let the sun shine on the left side of the 16th!

In spite of the corporate nature of the photo (Mr. Chrysler just HAD to have the tallest building in NY – so much so, that he kept the top hidden and a secret until the very last minute, so that it would not be outdistanced and so that it would amaze. It did amaze, but shortly after, it was outdistanced anyway, by the Empire State Building), I have to go on the record and admit that which I am sure has not yet become apparent: I love the “L” word! [And it angers me to hear this contempt for it, as reported on the news last night: “GWB is swinging away at Kerry for being a liberal” and on CNN: “Kerry is losing ground now because of Bush’s successful use of the liberal label on the campaign trail.”]

And so now I just have to lay down my cards and say it like it is. When I hear the word “liberal,” my heart soars and flutters with happiness.

Thus on the sweet sixteenth day before the election, let me take this blog into places on 16th street that celebrate the Left.

There is, for instance, the block between fifth and sixth avenues. Here stands the home of Alexander Trachtenberg, an American Communist who was indicted for publishing subversive books and pamphlets; his defense committee included Paul Robeson and W.E.B. DuBois. In general, this block was something of a “Lefty-Red” neighborhood in the 1940s and '50s.

In the next block you’ll find the New York City Free Clinic (run by NYU). I suppose this could be used as a model of health care delivery for the future. Who needs health insurance, let’s all just rely on the liberal lefties to jump in and do some direct servicing for the uninsured, the underinsured and the never-to-be-insured-under-the-GWB-next-4-years.

Then, we come to Union Square Park. The first Labor Day Parade took place here in the XIX century. Emma Goldman was arrested here in 1893 for telling the unemployed to steal bread. A funeral march was held here for the executed Rosenbergs the year I was born.

More? You want more? Corner of 16th and Irving houses the magazine the Nation, that leftie rag!

I could go on. Know where my heart is. With the “L” crowd and I am SO proud of it.

(*see “forty-second street pre-election diary” post, September 22, for explanation of post title)

Minding my “Ps”

Politics

I have to hand it to the NYTimes. The Magazine cover story today is the most thorough indictment of the Bush presidency I have read in a long time. Anyone with any commitment to reason over extremist faith-based leadership cannot read it and comfortably remain an advocate of GWB. What bothers me most is that this administration’s supporters, knowing what they know about Bush’s incompetence and unwillingness to base decisions on facts or reason are choosing to remain silent and to be in complicity with the president. Being a child of post-war Poland, I am too familiar with shrouds of silence – one that preceded the invasion of Poland on September 1st, 1939 comes to mind.

Predictions

I have reason to believe that: 1.there will be more snow in Madison this year than we’ve had in a long time; 2. Althouse will not abandon Kerry-bashing in her blog before November 2nd (does she worry what fodder will feed the Instapundit links after the election? A Kerry win would, sadly, keep the doors open for continued commentary of the type we have been reading this past month); 3. The leaves in my yard will not get properly raked this fall; 4. L’Etoile will not be the L’Etoile we know and have grown accustomed to by year’s end. I will consider bets on any of the above, though interested parties and those who know me well are not permitted to play.

Polishness

You know, I just get embarrassed for my countrymen and women when I read interviews such as the one with the Polish Foreign Minister (NYT Magazine today). Highlight: NYT: Have you been watching the televised debates between President Bush and Senator Kerry? Cimoszewicz: I will not comment on the present position of the leading contenders. [nc: an overwhelming majority of foreign leaders have endorsed Kerry; not Poland! Ever hopeful for that investment of American capital, can’t it recognize that even after blindly counting itself as part of the coalition of the damned willing, no such investment is forthcoming?] Any high points in that interview? And admission that more than 70% of Poles, lovers of all things American that they are, now strongly oppose Poland’s support for the American invasion of Iraq. Is Cimoszewicz a fan of life in this country? He likes Central Park, George Gershwin, and a real American steak – though 'once a year' is enough for him. I guess it could have been worse. He could have said he favored Dallas for vacations and preferred a visit to Crawford over a stroll through Central Park. The steak, I'm thinking, is a nod toward the Lone Star state.

Seventeenth street pre-election diary*

17th and Irving Place 

Seventeen days.

Washington Irving: a lawyer, writer, traveler.

Washington Irving High School (at the corner of 17th and Irving Place): the school rated as the most dangerous in all of Manhattan (it was ranked this year as almost ten times as violent as the average New York City School – razor blade slashing, for instance, are common, as are high suspension rates – the highest in the city, and low attendance rates – not surprisingly, the lowest in the city).

Under the federal “No Child Left Behind” law, this school has been identified as “in need of improvement.” However, from what I have been reading, at Washington Irving, the only resource that has been thrown at the school is an increased number of police officers.

on 17th: a school in trouble 

In a moving endorsement of Kerry, the NYT editors write the following today:

We look back on the past four years with hearts nearly breaking, both for the lives unnecessarily lost and for the opportunities so casually wasted. Time and again, history invited George W. Bush to play a heroic role, and time and again he chose the wrong course. We believe that with John Kerry as president, the nation will do better.

How can it be that anyone would still believe otherwise?

(*see “forty-second street pre-election diary” post, September 22, for explanation of post title)

Market watch on a blustery day

the leaves are still now, but wait 'til the tempest passes through

The wind this morning was unbelievable! Not only was there an occasional sprinkle, but the gusts tore at the Market tents with such force that many sellers had to hold poles firmly in place or they’d be swept away with the tempest.

This, of course, did not keep me home. But it was discouraging to come to L'Etoile and find a note asking me to, on top of everything else, pick out some five varieties of apples, totaling to maybe 80 plus pounds. And it was discouraging to have Chef O be in such a peppy chatty mood as she joined me on one of my rounds. It took the two of us two hours to circle the Square (can one really circle a square? I’m getting dangerously close to making an orange an apple here). I finally abandoned her at a cheese stand. Clearly she’s operating with different heat moments than I am.

So how cold, dark and wet was it? Note the seller at Harmony Valley (photo below) warming her hands in the heat of the lamp – which itself is on so that customers can see the vegetables in the dark, early morning hours.

Working both sides of the fence

I am not now, never have been, nor will ever be part of the management team at L’Etoile. But right now, neither am I exactly wage labor. It’s more like I’m a contracted service provider. And so I get to tune in to stories from both ends: from labor and from the boss. And like the true two-faced person that I am, I am openly sympathetic to both.

I am also sometimes the keeper of secrets for both. For instance, today, I asked Chef O how her day had gone yesterday (it had been her birthday – she is exactly half a year older than I am). Terrible! She tells me. She had bounced in for the staff meal, excited and ready for some tiny celebration on her behalf and there was…none. It kind of broke her heart. [People: you need to start taking the birthdays of others seriously. Presents, cards, the whole works. And never, ever take seriously such statements as “oh, don’t bother doing anything for me.” Nobody means that. Ever.]

Plagued by guilt and pity I went out and found the biggest bouquet I could get at the Market and passed it on to her. One day late, but what can you do.

However, in chatting to ‘labor,’ I found out that in reality, a bash is in the works for her, scheduled for our staff meeting this coming Monday evening. Of course, I can’t tell Chef O that.

Conversely, I cannot tell ‘labor’ that management has a stunning announcement to make on that day. While everyone is busy busy readying the place for a celebration, management is busy busy with its own little surprise.

So here I am, anticipating a tempest and a celebration. How will it all end? Tune in Monday evening. My lips are sealed until then (to my knowledge, no one from L’Etoile tracks this blog; but I am taking no chances).

this morning, even wooly mittens didn't keep the cold out 

This may well be the last bouquet I bring home this year 

Eighteenth street pre-election diary*

an 18th street story 

Eighteen days...

At the corner of 18th and Irving Place you can find Pete’s Tavern, the oldest continuously operating tavern in New York. (During the Prohibition it disguised itself as a flower shop.) Sometimes called O’Henry’s place (he frequented it as the turn of the century), it is indeed a landmark. Even though the original Pete (Pete Belles) did not want to be famous back in 1864 when he opened the place. He just wanted his own tavern.

Tick tock, tick tock, 127 years later, Ruth MacLeod is at the Tavern. It is a nice summer evening and tables are set outdoors, inside a guard-rail. Ruth is there, so is a group of waiters and customers. She needs to pass through, but the waiters are chatting up the customers and so she needs to step around them, outside the guard rail. There is an indentation in the sidewalk. She stumbles and falls (Torts class! An open and shut slip & fall case??). She sues Pete’s. The issue becomes whether the tavern's duty of care extends beyond the guardrail.

On appeal, the court said no and the complaint against Pete’s Tavern was dismissed. (Properly, don’t you think?)

Compare and contrast:

Tick tock, tick tock, a year later (in that most publicized of cases, so think about it, this is the most debatable jury award), 79 year-old Stella Liebeck sustains 3rd degree burns, requiring hospitalization and skin grafts, after she spills coffee purchased at McDonald’s. Does McDonald’s know the coffee is too hot to serve or drink? Yes, having had 700 recorded severe burns in the decade prior to this case, they knew. Were they willing to reduce the temperature (that was held at nearly 50 degrees above the industry standard)? No, that would have reduced the optimal brewing capacity of every last grind. What would get them to reconsider? A large punitive damages award (large in a manner of speaking; the jury award, reduced considerably afterwards, was equal to two days’ worth of coffee sales for the chain), shifting the cost-benefit calculus, so that it no longer paid for them to serve dangerously hot beverages. Was Stella thinking of lawsuits as her son pulled out of the drive-up the day she opened the cup to put in the cream and sugar? No, she just wanted a cup of coffee.

Litigation, regulation… I heard GWB last night speak to a crowd in Wisconsin about the dangers of both. About the need to free companies of regulatory restrictions and free each and every one of us from frivolous litigation. I wonder what the hell he was talking about?

(*see “forty-second street pre-election diary” post, September 22, for explanation of post title)

A cautionary tale about ham

I want to give a deferential nod to the power of lobbying efforts. You always imagine that in the higher echelons of the legislature, reason will prevail and no lobbyist will be able to convince a decision-maker that an apple is really an orange. But we should heed the lessons coming to us from Italy. Because there, it has been officially proclaimed that prosciutto (or for that matter its variations: prosciutto cotto (cooked) and crudo (raw), coppa, cotechino, guanciale, lardo, lonza, mortadella, pancetta, porchetta, salsiccia, salumi, spalla and speck) does not belong to the meat group. It stands alone, it is a category in its own right, it is a protected local product, enthusiastically handed to vegetarians requesting a meatless dish. (Read about it in the International Herald Tribune, here.)

If the Italians can convince each other that Parma ham is not a meat, then I fear we are nanoseconds (JK rules in his choice of words!) away from allowing ourselves to be convinced that GWB is indeed a steward of the land. The world is becoming a very complicated place indeed.

Nineteenth street pre-election diary*

19th and Broadway 

Listening to the news today, nineteen mornings before we hit the voting booths, I was dumbfounded to hear the Republican desperation as they cling still to an “L” theme (choice for today: Lesbian). I thought I myself had beaten the “L” issue to death in my most recent post. Indeed, GWB’s team is abandoning Love for Laura as, in spite of her strength as a woman, she appears not to be a strong enough ace in the deck to knock the wind out of the Kerry kitesurf as he stunningly careens his way to the lead after the last debate. Thus the search continues for an “L” replacement and for now, as panic sets in (you ‘lost’ three debates in a row, how could you lose three debates in a row??), the crazed desire to change the post-debate spin is ON!

Nineteen days and I am reminded of the lyrics to a Stones song. Were they anticipating this moment in time when indeed, the GWB campaign would lose it?

When you were a child
You were treated kind
But you were never brought up right.
You were always spoiled with a thousand toys
…
You better stop
Look around
Here it comes, here it comes, here it comes, here it comes
Here comes your nineteenth nervous breakdown!

And what’s with the Fishs Eddy banner in the photo above? It’s a delightful store on 19th street (named after a small flyfishing town in the Catskills), selling American-made china, often salvaged from ocean liners, restaurants, or airlines, sometimes creatively designed just for today’s quirky buyer. They have an interesting home page on their website. Seemingly bi-partisan (but not really if you read it carefully -- and I apologize, I have yet to figure out how to phtograph a computer screen with a sharper resolution), they do indeed get their message across, in big bold orange blocks (lost in the photo is the line right below which reads Election Day is Tuesday November 2, 2004. MAKE YOUR VOICE HEARD!):

(*see “forty-second street pre-election diary” post, September 22, for explanation of post title)

Fishseddy.com: they want your sale, they also want you to vote 

Twentieth-street pre-election diary*

20th: the way of TR 

Twenty days…

TR

What would have been the Theodore Roosevelt Way to approach a debate? Certainly with a great command of the facts, a tremendous concern for the environment, for social justice, women’s rights, corporate responsibility and a call to end American isolationism abroad.

Familiar themes, aren’t they? Reading a biography of TR is enlightening. The 26th president’s interests and talents were stunningly multifarious. How can I be so presumptuous as to suggest that we overlap in some way? Oh, but there is indeed an area: it is said of him that he had a love of keeping connected to his friends and contacts through writing letters. Indeed, he appeared to have written well over 150,000 letters in his lifetime. Had he email, I’m sure the number would have been ten times that.

The “L” letter

Last night, 9 people came together (here) to listen carefully for the dreaded “L” word. It was announced prior to the debate that the evening would be one monstrous “L” attack as well as a defense of “L”-ness.

But in signaling this, the newscaster forgot to provide specifics. What “L” theme would be foisted on us, causing anarchy and chaos, moving us away from the “march to freedom?” [Thank you to the person last night who did a reenactment for me just to illustrate how that march might look. It was a militaristic moment.]

A stipulation for the evening: no drinking games (but it was so tempting, so tempting, especially when one heard such cunning lines as “I sent my budget man…”). One had to be alert to catch the moment went “L” would LEAP from the podium.

And so what happened? Did we miss it? Because, although there were a lot of “L” words floating around, no devastating punch was levied against the “L” leaning candidate. And which of the various "Ls" was the intended coup de grace? I’m running down my list of “L” candidates from last night: Was it Litmus test? Or Left? Or Left behind? Or Lesbian? Was it Legal reform and Litigation (said in one sentence, sort of like a punch and then a follow-up kick)? Or Lawsuit and Liability reform (also in one sentence; clearly GWB is tuned to the legal system)? You know, I bet it was Love. Because the press seems to believe that the crowning moment of glory for Bush (of all three debates) came when he spoke of his wife, Laura. Laura, hey that is IT! The intended punch at Kerry who has no Laura in his life! A good reason not to vote for him? You bet! Every presidnet needs a Laura to Love in order to do well in the White House! Love my wife Laura – 2 “Ls,” delivering the cataclysmic blow to Kerry who, struggling to survive, had to come up with Love for Mom. Not quite up there with Laura, but close enough in alphabet. Teresa is too far down the letter line-up. [And thank you, Mr. Schieffer, for coming up with the stupidest final Q of the debates.]

(*see “forty-second street pre-election diary” post, September 22, for explanation of post title)

a photo of Rosemary Forbes Kerry:

Yet another post that demonstrates my commitment to both sides of the political spectrum

I want to show my open-mindedness. I want to understand those who are deeply, passionately committed to the current president. And so (with guidance from my neighbor –thanks!) I went to the hometown of our folksy man to read about the support offered to him by the locals.

I was disappointed.

Instead of a yipee-tayay-yey (is that what they shout in a small town in Texas?) in support of their local hero, GWB’s hometown paper has just announced that it is leaving George behind.

Here are excerpts from an editorial appearing in the Lone Star Iconoclast (the newspaper from Crawford, Texas):

The publishers of The Iconoclast endorsed Bush four years ago, based on the things he promised, not on this smoke-screened agenda.Today, we are endorsing his opponent, John Kerry, based not only on the things that Bush has delivered, but also on the vision of a return to normality that Kerry says our country needs.…

We believed [Bush], just as we believed it when he reported that Iraq was the heart of terrorism. We trusted him.The Iconoclast, the President’s hometown newspaper, took Bush on his word and editorialized in favor of the invasion. The newspaper’s publisher promoted Bush and the invasion of Iraq to Londoners in a BBC interview during the time that the administration was wooing the support of Prime Minister Tony Blair.Again, he let us down.
…
That’s why The Iconoclast urges Texans not to rate the candidate by his hometown or even his political party, but instead by where he intends to take the country. The Iconoclast wholeheartedly endorses John Kerry.

True, the paper has a weekly circulation of 425 and perhaps it has been infiltrated by communists and pacifists in the last four years. In any case, my search for a better understanding of the GWB’s fan base continues. Crawford, Texas did not deliver.

Twenty-first street pre-election diary*

dark sign, dark thoughts on 21st 

The very first offices of The New Republic were housed in buildings on the far west side of 21st street. Virginia Woolf once wrote for the New Republic (see VW post below; the intricate connections between events, people, circumstances are amazing).

Reading the editorial of TNR today, 21 days before the election, will put you right in the middle of where we, indeed ought to be: Darfur. As the editors points out (here), it is the one place where even a very small dose of “American might” can make a significant difference in stabilization efforts. It is an opportunity that the current administration refuses to take and one that Kerry is willing to consider. In the words of TNR:

[B]y hammering home this message [of a willingness to send stabilizing troops], Kerry would show how absent Bush has been. After all, it is Bush, not Kerry, who is now presiding over 6,000 to 10,000 Darfurian deaths each month. It is up to Bush, as president, to stop the genocide.

Tonight is, of course, the night of the last debate and Darfur will not be on the agenda. And in any case, few of those who are still undecided would consider the Darfur issue as crucial, even though what happens here on November 2nd will determine the fate of thousands in Sudan. It is frightening to give such power to a voter who can’t even point to Sudan on a global map let alone comprehend the importance of providing support to the region.

(*see “forty-second street pre-election diary” post, September 22, for explanation of post title)

Tuesday vignettes

Polishness

A friend just told me that she’d met a Polish couple in my neighborhood. Polish? Here? Yes, yes, she said – she spent time with them at the Polish Film Festival last year. I asked her how she liked the films. She hesitated, then admitted that they were kind of weird. A lot of animation, crazy stuff, squiggly lines – it made her dizzy so that she had to leave. And the Polish couple? Well – she answered – they were really into it. But they said you had to be Polish to understand it. Polish people have a certain way of looking at themselves that is really different. Most people can’t understand it; they kept saying – you had to be Polish to get it. I get it.

Cuban cigars

Another friend offered me a Cuban cigar. Did you smoke it? You hate smoking, smokers, smoke. You smoked it, didn’t you? Vices in small doses, if they hurt no one, can be very satisfying. Was it satisfying? No. And I can’t get the damn taste out of my mouth. I should have known better. I hate smoke, smoking, smoke-related anything, with the exception, perhaps, of smoked salmon. Never again.

Chinese tea, e-mail and Virginia Woolf

In a more virtuous vein, my walking buddy (I hereby gratefully acknowledge all three of you –K,K and S- for your indulgence of my walking addiction) brewed for me a pot of tea. She has recently traveled to China and she has with her a supply of tea leaves that I’m sure rivals in size the raked pile of fallen leaves outside my window. We sipped tea and talked about banes and vices. What’s yours, she asks. Email, I say without hesitation. I am a compulsive email-answerer. You send it, I answer. In fact, I’ll answer before you even send it. Colleagues will send a Q and bingo! There‘s a reply. You’d think that this would be regarded favorably? Oh no, it places the ball in their park again so instead of feeling deep satisfaction at having crossed off an item from their list, the item is right back on there. My friend kindly suggested that the compulsion is driven by a writer’s temperament. The medium is an odd weapon for people who feel compelled to formulate sentences and stories every waking hour of the day. Imagine the odd behaviors, she said, that would follow, if you placed email in the hands of Virginia Woolf.

I suppose I agree. And how much worse it would be to receive brilliance in your Inbox rather than the trite stuff I place there! Consider this exert from a Woolf essay where she contemplates writing (though in truth, we are in the dark what meaning lies behind these words, because Woolf can be painfully difficult to comprehend; here, you can almost believe that she is writing about email!) and imagine the strain of finding such words in your Inbox were she your acquaintance (emphases are my own):

Is it not possible that the accent falls a little differently, that the moment of importance came before or after, that, if one were free and could set down what one chose, there would be no plot, little probability, and a vague general confusion in which the clear-cut features of the tragic, the comic, the passionate and the lyrical were dissolved beyond the possibility of separate recognition? The mind, exposed to the ordinary course of life, receives upon its surface a myriad impressions—trivial, fantastic, evanescent, or engraved with the sharpness of steel. From all sides they come, an incessant shower of innumerable atoms, composing in their sum what we might venture to call life itself; and to figure further as the semi-transparent envelope, or luminous halo, surrounding us from the beginning of consciousness to the end.

Twenty-second street pre-election diary*

22nd: in search of color: grey, brown, and bleak... though wait, isn't there an aqua paperclip hovering in the background? 

There is a mist this morning that makes the outdoors look like a muted painting. Were I an artist, I could do a lot with the colors and tones right now.

This morning the Washington Post describes (here) the different level of enthusiasm demonstrated by crowds during campaign stops. Bush supporters are likened to fans at a rock concert. They are wildly enthusiastic about their candidate. True, they are heavily screened – only contributors and volunteers and registered supporters are given tickets.

In Kerry-land, crowds are divided 50 – 50 between support for their candidate and hatred of Bush. Reactions to Kerry’s fact-based speeches are more subdued, polite almost.

What consistently draws the biggest, wildest cheers for Bush? His relentlessly repeated message of putting a cap on jury awards and opposition to gay marriage!

Reading this almost drains the color from the day. We have a new cult figure – with weeping women standing in the rain, holding hand-made signs with Biblical messages scribbled across, waving them fanatically, screaming love for the president. They are 100% behind their man, they say. It’s not against Kerry or his policies or any of that – it’s all about their folksy hero, GW.

If this sounds like a bleak assessment of what inspires so many of the voters, only 22 days before the election, no less, let me end with a note of color. My neighbor, ever the optimist, is convinced that Kerry is now firmly in the lead. He has deconstructed the ABC poll (which has Kerry trailing slightly) and remains convinced that it is not representative of American public opinion. I’ll accept that for now. I’m willing to look for that burst of color in a monochromatic landscape. Hey, look below – it’s a photo from 22nd street in NY, followed by a photo taken this morning of freshly-cut flowers from my back yard. That’s right, in October, blooming roses and lavender and honeysuckle. I’m not averting my eyes to the signs of color, I’m not. [It would help if I don’t read things like “Passions runs high for GWB” or “Bush's speeches and their settings are largely emotional celebrations of conservatism” first thing in the morning.]

Time to make another contribution to the campaign I think. I’m hoping that others are doing the same.

(*see “forty-second street pre-election diary” post, September 22, for explanation of post title)

the fire-escape balcony of a hopeful soul 

freshly cut this morning, from the back yard 

Five-day report

As I mentioned in a previous post, last week in a fit of despair and irrational decision-making, I signed on to extended cable.

Since I post such lofty statements as “I think everyone should be self-critical and willing to change” or some such nonsense (realizing that no one is REALLY self-critical, let alone willing to change), I decided to scientifically evaluate the sanity of this decision. First, the daily scorecard on my TV watching now that I have some 80-plus channels to choose from (the plus refers to a movie option that I took but do not understand at all at, AT ALL! Except that it bought some free box into my home where now I can start movies –what movies??? From where???? – on demand):

Thursday (the day of cable installation): 0 minutes of TV viewing
Friday: The debate (perhaps 2 hrs?) on NBC (available without cable)
Saturday: 0 minutes of TV viewing
Sunday: 15 minutes of “60 Minutes” on CBS (available without cable)
Monday: 5 minutes of news at 7 a.m. on NBC (available without cable) and 20 minutes of the MacNeil/Lehrer Report (available without cable).

Am I ready to admit to complete stupidity and lack of self-awareness? No, of course not (remember: no one is REALLY self-critical). We’re dealing with unique circumstances, that’s all. [Yes, yes, I know; that’s what they all say…]

Another post that demonstrates my commitment to both sides of the political spectrum

[Q: GWB, a steward? Yes!]

However President Bush may choose to characterize himself (and there have been very interesting such characterizations), I never would have thought that he would pick this one: “steward of the land.” Because the word “steward” doesn’t fit with GWB-speak. Nor does "of the land." It’s as if Kerry suddenly said next Wednesday “I feel your pain, sister!” Clinton? Maybe, but not Kerry. So, too, the steward of the land thing seemed to me to be a Bush aberration.

Where did he come up with it? When was it first suggested that stewardship, land and George are like peas in a pod? After poking around a bit, I found that, lo and behold, lots of people HAVE been linking stewardship with the environment and GWB and this has been evidently taking place since the days of his governorship. We hear it from advocate types as well as within the corporate sector. So I was wrong: Bush is merely quoting others who have indeed used the phrase in conjunction with this administration. I’ll include a few samples, in case you don’t believe me (in chronological order; I've highlighted the appropriate words in case you're in a hurry and just want to get to the proof).

(from Iowa Press, questioning GWB’s record as Governor, Dec. 1999)
[IP]: You're being criticized for your handling of the environment in Texas. Specifically, people are saying that the Texas environment is a polluted one and that you've not been a good steward of the environment. How do you respond to that?
[GWB]: ...I don't believe we can sue or regulate our way to clean air and clean water.

(from ABC News, May 2001)
Mr. Bush went to Sequoia National Forest in California today to say that he is and he will be a good steward of the environment. ... But environmentalists are skeptical of Mr. Bush, even when he is trying to please them. The National Parks Association today gave him a barely passing grade, D.

(from ChevronTexaco home page, Aug. 2003)
President George W. Bush has announced his intention to appoint Lydia I. Beebe, corporate secretary of ChevronTexaco, to the Presidio Trust board of directors. The board is charged with preserving the Presidio’s [in SF] natural, cultural, scenic and recreational resources...
"I’m honored to be appointed to the Presidio Trust board of directors,” said Beebe. “The appointment allows me to put into practice the values we adhere to at ChevronTexaco of being a good steward of the environment and a constructive partner in areas where we live and work."

(from the Center for American Progress, Feb 2004)
Three years into the current administration, the trend in environmental regulation is sledgehammer clear: this administration is the worst steward of the environment ever. So bad is the record, so long the list of environmental depredations, that it is difficult to pick the worst.

What did I say? Peas in a pod. With ChevronTexaco, too.

Twenty-third street pre-election diary*

Seward, sitting at the junction of the avenues at 23rd, thinking, perhaps, which way do I go now? 

the intersection of the avenues at 23rd: you head to the Left or to the Right 

It’s still very dark outside. On the twenty-third sunrise, we’ll wake up to an election morning. Do they have twenty-three day forecasts? They have ten day forecasts, how accurate are those? [I’m thinking of the weather which has been stunningly beautiful in Madison – perfect for walking and ruminating.]

The interesting thing about William Seward (pictured in the photo above) is that he ‘flip-flopped’ (to use a popular phrase) in his political positions over time. What does that mean in terms of a governor who later became Secretary of State for Lincoln? It means that his more radical views (focusing on abolishing slavery, promoting prison reform and providing education for immigrants) appeared to calm down over the decades, so that toward the end of his career he was more interested in the protection of national unity than of individual rights (at least that is how I read his life, admittedly based on limited information; but then we always interpret the views of others based on limited information).

People change. Yet, it is interesting to note how history remembers them and it turns out it is never for the act of change but for the direction and reasons behind it. It’s true in politics, it’s true in everyday life.

(*see “forty-second street pre-election diary” post, September 22, for explanation of post title)

I am a weak, weak person

In years back, I used to get the Wisconsin State Journal delivered to my house. Why? Well, when you are an integral part of a community – striving to achieve utmost familiarity with its schools and governing officials – you want to keep up with local news. But not too long ago there was a headline that was so repulsive and repugnant to my sensibilities that I called the paper and said ENOUGH! I then switched to the afternoon Capital Times, Madison’s “progressive” newspaper.

That was alright so long as there was the stable and static schedule of work -> home -> prepare dinner and read paper -> eat dinner and talk about what’s in the paper. This year is quite different in terms of schedules. No one is reading the paper as I am preparing the dinner. In fact, oftentimes I prepare the dinner at odd hours and in odd ways, seemingly inconsistent with the stability described above.

And so, I have stacks of rolled up Cap Times, never opened, never read.

Why don’t I cancel my subscription????

Here’s why. I sit each late afternoon, working away at my computer and I watch the guy as he drops off the paper. No one else on our block subscribes to it and so I watch him drive right up, get out of his car, walk up to the door (YES! Unlike during the times of the Wis St J, this guy actually brings it to the door!) and place it gingerly in a perfect place there.

At Christmastime, he sends a card telling me about his children and grandchildren. He is retired. He actually lives in the neighborhood and he appears to have many grandchildren. I think that with my Christmas bonus he must be buying a toy for one of them. He seems the type to favor fire engines and Barbie dolls. From that walk up my stairs, I can tell (no, really!) that he is sweet and devoted.

And so I do not cancel the paper because of him. I can imagine his disappointment and his introspective Qs were I to cancel – was it something about me???? All sensitive souls, when hit with a series of blows, wonder if it is about them.

I couldn’t do it. And so I just pick up the stack of unread papers every few days and pass them on to the environmental truck that comes on Wednesdays. Could it be otherwise?

A post that demonstrates my commitment to both sides of the political spectrum

[Or: what did Kerry forget?]

Thanks to my student, who understands the importance of my Polishness. He e-mailed me the link to the website youforgotaboutpoland.com . Out of respect to this Ocean blogger’s Polska pride, do click on and scroll all the way to the bottom – there are a number of interesting ways in which the candidates can give proper deference to the country that gave the US its full support. Sort of. Because Poland is now, in a moment of delayed reaction, pulling out of Iraq. [Yes, one can properly debate whether it was more appropriate to send troops then, or to keep them there now.]

Twenty-fourth street pre-election diary*

24th: which way now? note they both point to the left 

These beetles (peaking yesterday in number – at least I hope they peaked) are evil! Anyone living in Madison knows what I am referring to. They are pernicious bugs that, to the innocent eye look like ladybugs. But they bite. It is the ultimate irony that this friendly orange little thing should in reality be a poseur, out to do you in if you even slightly step in its path.

Yesterday morning I read (and linked to) Rothschild’s comment in the on-line Progressive on the presidential debate. In the evening I encountered him at the Wisconsin Book Festival, introducing one of the novelists. At the Orpheum stage, he made no reference to his earlier debate recap. But a subsequent author who spoke (and read a work in progress – a fantastic short story!), Jeffrey Eugenides (yes, of Middlesex and Virgin Suicides fame) did make a few remarks. He told the audience that he and his wife have just moved to Chicago and have yet to install their TV and so they have been listening to the debates on the radio. He told us “Yes, it is possible to hear on the radio Bush making faces; call it a sort of ‘vocal grimace.’”

I like Kerry’s tie that is on the front cover of the NYT Magazine. Here’s the thing (warning: I am about to brag shamelessly; modesty just went out the window with the last nasty little beetle): I had a reputation once for picking exquisite, extraordinary ties. The pressure to do even better each time was so tremendous that I would often spend hours upon hours on this project. I distinctly recall having once a 24 hour lay-over in Paris and devoting the BETTER PART of that time to a search for the perfect tie. I remember seeing one on a gentleman who was sitting and sipping an aperitif at a sidewalk café and wondering how whorish it would be to engage him in a conversation for a while, eventually offering payment (I mean of a monetary nature!) for the piece of silk loosely tied around his neck. I don’t remember than man’s face. I remember the tie.

Matthew Rothschild wore a tie last night and it struck me as having a strikingly conservative design. It always throws you when there is an inconsistency between the man’s persona and his tie.

Kerry’s tie (in case you don’t have the Magazine in front of you and you may well be without it because for some reason I got several in my NYT packet this morning) has fish swimming in one direction. [To the LEFT, of course -- like the arrows by the 24th street sign -- it’s a very subtle message and some may accuse me of reading too much into it, but I know I’m right. I mean correct.] Thus at the knot, the fish are necessarily pointing downward, toward the left-leaning fish, giving an overall appearance of a synchronized water-ballet of fish—sort of like an opening day performance at the Olympics, where thousands of local children go out and wave their flags and colorful banners en masse.

I mention this because we only have two dozen days before the election. We are down to basics now. A tie tells me a lot about a person. Based on that cover photo alone, Kerry’s got my vote.

(*see “forty-second street pre-election diary” post, September 22, for explanation of post title)

Encountering brilliance

The novelist, Richard Bausch said this last night (at the Wisconsin Book Festival: thank you so much for taking me to it):
So this writer goes up to his cabin in Minnesota to sequester himself, to make some progress on his writing and the first week he’s there, he sees that the plumbing isn’t working. His toilet is completely backed up and overflowing in the way that country cesspools and toilets sometimes get, causing regurgitation and spillage of the contents onto the bathroom floor. And so he is forced to call a plumber to fix this. The plumber, wading virtually ankle-deep through the stuff that is now flowing freely from the toilet, is working diligently to put a stop to it. In the meantime he asks the man in the cabin “so, you’re the guy who’s a writer from Minneapolis?” Yes, the writer fellow answers. The plumber grunts in wonderment and says “I don’t know how you folks can do that kind of work!”

I am glad that writers, bloggers too, have, at the least, the admiration of plumbers.

I spoke to Bausch briefly after the reading, in the nervous way that one does when talking to one’s heroes and gods and of course he could tell by the buckets of sweat that were dripping down my forehead that I was an aspiring, errrr, plumber (or something). And so, like probably for the millions that come to his signing table, shyly, with goose-bumps and some asinine two or three chatty lines that they took forever to think of, he wrote this:

some heroes are priceless

One needs heroes and muses in the forefront, friends and family perhaps, in the background, lots of solitude and lots of peace of mind to move forward with writing projects. After all, even the Minnesota writer first sought to have his cesspool fixed before he could sit down and get started. For me, listening to Bausch read last night was better than calling a local plumber.

The man’s a genius of a writer.

By the light of the moon

Sometimes I wake up on a Saturday morning and think – the last thing I want to do now is go to the Market and buy foods for l’Etoile. It has nothing to do with being tired. One is always tired at 5 in the morning, especially when it is still so dark outside. It’s being weighed down with a week’s worth of issues that cause me sometimes to wonder – why am I doing this? I’d rather be in Paris. Or at least not outside, driving downtown before the city traffic lights are turned back on.

But there is always special compensation in doing something that you do not necessarily feel like doing.

Today, I had a load of good thoughts, too, best articulated in the article by the Progressive’s Matthew Rothschild, reflecting on last night's debate (thank you, neighbor, for the forward). And so, as I pulled up by the Square, I had this internal smile thing going. And, walking around in this different light, I remembered (cautionary note: a cliché is coming, but it’s true) how terrific it is to sometimes do the unusual, the thing that doesn’t automatically seem pleasing or natural. The rewards are tenfold greater than staying glued to your own backyard.

A few photos with the unusual, exotic almost, light of the pre-dusk hours and a few quotes (all in the glow of purple) from Rothschild:

[T]he environment came up and Bush could barely string together a defense, fumbling to come up with an answer about what his Administration has done to improve the environment. Here was his first stab: "Off-road diesel engines, we reached an agreement to reduce pollution from off-road diesel engines by 90 percent.”

In the night light: the sweetness of Ambrosia chocolate inside

Kerry stood his ground and actually has turned the Republicans' smear campaign to his advantage. They have so caricatured him and so lampooned him that when the American people get to see Kerry in person, he comes off surprisingly well. He is smart, knowledgeable, prepared, calm, and forceful.

chocolate and cherry, with the glow of fresh glaze 

"I'm going to spend what it takes to win the war, more than just $120 billion for Iraq and Afghanistan." When Bush used the word "just" before the figure $120 billion, I saw the eyebrows of America bobbing, as Bush appeared intent on mortgaging the nation for his crusade.

an eerily correct label 

But then Kerry gave one of the best defenses of abortion rights I've ever heard a Presidential candidate make. He said he voted against the so-called Partial Birth ban because it did not have an exception for the life of the mother. And he said he voted against the parental notification law because it would force a sixteen-year-old girl who is raped by her father to have to get that same father's permission for the abortion.
Bush had no comeback on this and looked fanatical on the subject.

red, white and what's the third? 

The longer George Bush stands on a stage with John Kerry, the better John Kerry looks.
One more debate, and Bush will be toast.

Twenty-fifth street pre-election diary*

25th is looking so nice! 

It is before dawn. I am about to go to do my forager duties for L’E at the Market. Yet all I can think of is last night. True, I spent the evening with a biased group. But oh my! It was wonderful to watch the debate with a group that wanted to see it as it may appear to the undecided, yet couldn’t really make that final leap, because it was just too dishy to see the favorable-toward-the-Democrats outcome! Kerry held on to his momentum. Is there anything else that is important?

Bottom line: we toasted every time a blooper was made by GWB (substantive, grammatical, whatever). I just want to say that I am Polish and therefore I always stock way too much food and too much wine for any social occasion. But tonight, even though guests brought extra bottles, I ran out of wine. [Of course, one could have drained a bottle on the Dred Scott moment alone! Wow! This will have to go down in history as a debate moment-to-be-cherished.]

P.S. You may walk a block every day, back and forth, back and forth, and you may feel that it harbors no one who thinks and lives as you do. Most likely, you will be wrong. I have to admit it because I am SO MUCH IN FAVOR OF PEOPLE ADMITTING THEIR MISTAKES: I was wrong about his little corner of the suburbs. It has people who worry about why, on a bright day, there are no children playing out on the street together, or grown ups exchanging stories from the day. It has people like me.

Let me conclude with a sign that I found perched over the door of a graphics design agency on 25th street.

(*see “forty-second street pre-election diary” post, September 22, for explanation of post)

On 25th street, a "yard sign." 

A calming device

Last week, the Department of Transportation installed an island at the bottom of my street, where it intersects with a somewhat larger street. It left instructions on how you may navigate it. Would you believe it, if you’re turning left, you can go either of two ways:

street scene

(No, it's not your vision; it's a failed attempt to upload a Paint document followed by a hastily photographed sketch.)

Now, we are told that this is to calm speeders on our more major street (Yellowstone). It, indeed, is called a calming device.

And you may think yourself to be so smart in putting in place little calming numbers. Yeah! I’m going to calm things down around here! --you proclaim. What you don’t count on is that one person’s yoga position is another’s twisted-muscle-contorting, pain-inducing body maneuver.

It appears that my neighborhood is HOPPIN’ MAD! The Department of Transportation has received angry phone messages and emails saying that they want that thing OUTTA HERE NOW OR ELSE!

I’m sure they have their reasons. I got a notice in the mail today that there is going to be a town hall-like shouting match next week. I wont go. I’m just sittin’ in my little corner contemplating how many different ways you can get yourself in trouble with calming devices, especially if you turn left without circumnavigating the little oasis. So far, I’ve counted 6 possible head-on collisions and two side swaps.

But I’m actually getting to be pretty calm about it. Just another hurdle in life to get through, that’s all. I’ll survive.

Twenty-sixth street pre-election diary*