One More Blog About Don Imus (Who Needs It?) (1 cent)

I must admit to have been an occasional Don Imus watcher. A few years ago, I was fairly regular. Why is this? Because he was, I thought, entertaining and charismatic, and could be counted on for interesting guests. As to his crude and cruel 'humor', I generally cringed. I didn't really overlook it, but I didn't let it stop my enjoyment of the show. And, perhaps in the sense that it was 'live' and 'spontaneous', it added something. And I did wonder why no one washed his mouth out with soap.

Imus had two sidekicks on the show. One, Charles McCord, did the news and played it fairly straight. I always have liked him. The other, Bernard McGuirk (McJerk?) was the opposite; he was the crudest of the crude, the instigator of all things bad on the show. He was also the producer of the show.

Now, I don't know the working relationship between the members of this longstanding trio, and particularly, I don't know, as between Imus and McJerk, which one came up with the most outlandish lines or skits. I don't really care.

Enough has been reported about all the crude remarks Imus has made over the years, and how the audiences, the sponsors, and the networks tolerated (welcomed?) them. Was it money only? Was it enjoyment? Was it tacit approval? (By one theory, Imus was willing to say what a lot of people would think, but were not in a position to say.) Again, I don't know.

I have, however, long been intrigued about his guests, and their willingness to participate actively in the show, particularly since so many of the guests were so prominent politically, and who worked hard to maintain a level of politician morality that was so different from the Imus morality. Think Joe Lieberman. Think John McCain. Think John Kerry.

Then there were the clergymen, Rabbi Mark Geller and Father Tom Hartman. What is their excuse?

As to the NBC journalists, Tim Russert and David Gregory and the others, well I thought that business was business, and they were on to promote the networks. But then there were the print journalists who called in as well. What were they thinking?

Many people want to expand this discussion. They want to take on the rap industry (that is probably a good thing). They want to take on the conservative talk show hosts (it is about time someone did). They want to take on Bill Maher (I think he is pretty outrageous). They want to take on Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson (that is not going a little too far; that is going way too far). But where are the limits on this type of talk? And on whom should the limits be placed? And should they be legal limits (as they are with obscenities), or simply societal acceptance limits (assuming there is such a thing in such a diverse society). These are the questions that need to be addressed.

Of course, it is not the words themselves that are problems (although 'ho'' is not a word), but the use of the words and the identity and intent of the speaker. Can Jews tell jokes on Jews, and blacks make fun of blacks, while neither should put down the other? Perhaps, although this in many ways goes against the grain, and certainly against the American premise that everyone should be treated and considered equally. Once, I was in a group of black and Jewish professionals, and one of the Jewish members set to one of the black members: "Help me out here, what do you want me to call you? Black? Or African American?". The honest answer came back: "Whichever one you call me, I want you to call me the other one." This tension will always exist.

Well, what about Imus' charitable activity, which seems to be quite extensive, with his camp for children with cancer, his raising funds for all sorts of health facilities and programs, and his wife's work making housekeeping green? You can't excuse a murderer because he was good to his mother. You don't excuse Mussolini because he made the trains run on time. I think the same goes for Imus. His charitable work is terrific and you can only hope he keeps it up.

I think he has been properly booted, and hope he does not return to the airwaves. As Imus would say (were he not Imus): This scraggly, turkey headed, scarecrow of a weasel got just what he deserved.

OK, Not So Weird (1 cent)

After talking to a number of people about my mysterious open window syndrome, one of them said to me (joking, I think) "maybe your remote does more than you think". It got me thinking and lo and behold this is the answer. If you keep holding down the open door button, it becomes an open window button. Whew!

A Little Too Weird

6:45 a.m. get in my car in my driveway and take the short drive to the gym.
6:50 a.m. park car on Yuma Street
7:55 a.m. walk from gym to car, open door with remote key control, sit in car and turn on motor.
7:56 a.m. notice that driver side window is completely open. do not remember opening window, but think I must have done so. close window.
7:57 a.m. see that passenger side window is also open. clearly do not remember opening both windows, but think I must have done so. close window.
7:58 a.m. leave parking space, decide to pick up some bagels, take short drive and park on Livingston Street, noticing, while I am driving, that it feels cool (it is cool outside, but should not feel that cool in the car)
8:05 a.m. park car on Livingston Street, still feeling cool, look up and see that the skylight is completely open. to open skylight, you must reach to front ceiling, and pull and hold a switch. I know I did not do that. I also know that nothing was open over night, as it rained hard, and the insides of the car were completely dry.

I have no answer. Does this mean that there is a God? And that He has nothing better to do?

Brats

"Brats" is a 2005 Czech movie which we saw tonight at the Avalon (one Wednesday each month, another award winning Czech film). We enjoyed it.

A couple has trouble having children, and adopts two boys, both of gypsy parentage. Then they have one of their own. The kids are hard to handle--the adopted boys have a hard time focusing and an easy time getting into trouble. The younger son has a serious asthma condition. They move from Prague to an exurban village for the fresh air, and hopefully for good neighbors (the Prague neighbors did not take to the gypsy boys).

It does not work out. The kids have trouble adjusting. The parents (and especially the mother) are isolated and overstressed. And one man in particular is out to get the kids, falsely accusing them of vandalism and calling them 'black bastards'.

Watching all of the bickering between the kids and between the parents, combined with the youngest boy's medical condition, and the problems with the neighbors, and the continual bullying and ribbing between all of the children made me very nervous. In addition, some weird camera work (a lot of scenes from above, a lot of face focusing, and a lot of blurred images)are disturbing.

Nevertheless, the movie is enjoyable, draws you in and keeps you going. I'd recommend it.

By the way, the boys are brats. But the Czech title of the film is "Smradi", which is translated as "smell" or "stench". This would be an ambiguous title. What stinks? Is it the gypsy kids, as the bigots think? Or is it the bigots? Or is it everything in the Czech Republic.

Why did they translate the title into English as "Brats". On the one hand, the boys are all brats, but "brats" is a very unsympathetic word, and the kids are very definitely meant to be objects of sympathy. But the three boys are also, of course, brothers, and the Czech word for "brothers" is "bratri". So the English title also has multiple meanings, but is more in the nature of a double entendre than it is ambiguous in the way Smradi is.

Tricks of Memory

I parked my car in the garage and entered the building's elevator lobby this morning, where a man in a Nationals' cap and warm up jacket was already waiting. He was probably about 50. I asked him if he was on the team.

On the way up, we and a few other Washingtonians lamented the Nationals, Caps, Redskins and Wizards.

Then, I got thinking. Forty years ago, a book was published called "Letters To and From Groucho Marx", real letters if I recall that Groucho sent (and the responses he received).

One, to Yankee Joe Dimaggio went something like: "Saw you late last night at Toots Shor's restaurant in New York. You were dressed in slacks, a sport jacket and tie. I was shocked. What would you have done if a ball game had broken out?"

My elevator companion was ready for action.

But what does all this say about memory. Let's say I read the Groucho book when it came out, or within a few years. 35-40 years ago. Why is it that I remember this letter, and nothing else at all?

Or, better still, although I remember this letter, do you think it is really in the book?

Memory.

What are the Seven Lively Arts Anyway ? (6 cents)

I really don't know. But I assume that theater and music are two of them.

Today, the last day of Passover, I went to church twice. At noon, I went to the Church of the Epiphany for its Tuesday noontime concert, and saw three Levine School faculty members (floutist Rebecca Collaros, pianist Grace McFarlane and cellist, Vasily Popov) perform flawlessly. A treat.

Interestingly, their program, entitled "A World-Wind Affair with Strings Attached" was comprised of pieces with which I had no familiarity whatsoever. The only piece that was vaguely familiar was Chopin's Barcarolle, and I know I could not have identified it by listening.

I thought that the selections were mixed; this was the only downside. But I did hear something that I don't believe I had ever heard before, and would like to hear much more. It is called "Kaleidoscope" by Hungarian composer Miklos Rozsa (1907-1995. I do not recognize the name. It is for flute, piccolo and piano, and contains a number of short rhythmic selections: march, musette, burlesque. You get the idea.

I enjoyed the Chopin (a lot of notes in that piece), and Debussy's Syrinx, a short flute solo. Madrigal by French composer Philippe Gaubert (1879-1941), another unknown to me, left me cold (i.e., didn't like it and didn't dislike it; the moment it was over, it slipped from my memory). The final piece, for three instruments, was Bohuslav Martinu's Trio for flute, cello and piano, which I thought the performers played about as well as it can be played. And I tried and tried to like it, and I just didn't. OK, so I should hear this again, too, and see if it was just its novelty that made it miss the mark with me.

This evening, we went to a first staged reading of a play called "The Quilt", written by Jason Ford, the son-in-law of friends. We did not know what to expect. It was part of a series of readings produced by the Playwright's Forum, and was held at St. John's Church in Bethesda.

It was quite good, and the post-reading discussion about good and weak points was also very interesting. The story line (in brief, and without giving away too much) is about a family who inherited a quilt which is sacred to a cult-like religious group. The cult members thought that the quilt had been lost and when they discovered its existence, they wanted it back. How they got it back, how the family was inevitably step by step roped into relationships with cult members, how tragedy struck, and how it ended. This is the play.

Having seen a number of readings over the past few years, this one ranks very high. Of course, whether it will ever again see the light of day, and how many drafts and re-drafts it will go through, is yet to be determined.

Ali Alawi at Politics and Prose

Ali Alawi spoke about his new book on occupied Iraq. Allawi left Iraq in exile in the early 1970s with his family. He went to England, studied and then taught at Oxford and became an investment banker. He went back to Baghdad, became Finance Minister and Defense Minister. He got disgusted; he got angry. He wrote this book.

The book has been very well received.

It was pretty depressing. To sum it up: things were bad, people were killed, then there was the invasion, then we had hope, then we screwed it up (we = everyone involved), now things are really tough, but maybe we can still turn it around. But our window is very small. He believes the Saddam killed hundreds of thousands of Kurds and of Shiites, and that there have been another several hundred thousand who have died as a result of the invasion and occupation. Then there are a couple of million refugees, mainly in Syria and Jordan. The midddle class is gone. The Shiites and the Kurds are allied. The Sunnis are in trouble. If America gets out without leaving a structure, it will get worse. If they stay, it will get worse.

He believe that, with the advent of the Bush II administration, academics who had been peripheral became core, and they developed this plan for the middle east that had nothing to do with the middle east.

There was no happy ending.

Imus, Youmus Go!

The Weekend (one cent)

The weekend is about to be over. It is going to end with our study group meeting at our house to discuss the growing trend of recognizing Sephardic Passover culinary traditions in Ashenazic homes. That is, traditionally Ashkenazic (today, basically Europeans and their descendants) keep stricter Passover rules, not eating certain foods eaten by those who define themselves as Eastern or Sephardic (Iraqi, North African, Arab, etc.). The Sephardim eat rice, beans and legumes; the Ashkenazim do not. But now that geogrpahy is losing its importance and communities (particularly in Israel, but to an extent here today as well) are mixing, what should be the tradition in the future? (Yes, these are the discussions that make up religious life, everywhere. Except perhaps for Unitarians)

Last night, we were disappointed when we went to see The Hoax, the movie with Richard Gere and Alfred Molina about Clifford Irving's book, The Autobiography of Howard Hughes, which turned out to be a forgery and was pulled off the press. Irving and his cohort Richard Suskind each spent time in jail, as did Irving's then-wife. This all took place in the 1970s.

The story is a good story and could have been told much more intelligently that it was, I felt. I thought Gere did a good job (considering the way the movie was put together), Molina not so good. The story was told half as reality, and half as Irving's fantasies, and the mix did not mix.

Before the show, we went to the last game of the Caps miserable season, where they lost to top NHL team, the Buffalo Sabres. The game was actually pretty good, and the Verizon center was sold out (of course, a lot of Sabre fans were there). The Caps promise that they will be better this summer. I hope so. But then again, hockey is not played in the summer.

And the Nats have now lost 6 of their first 7, even though they are getting a lot of hits, and very good relief pitching. Interestingly, their problems seem to parallel that of the caps.

Offense:
Nats good
Caps good

Offense When it Counts:

Nats bad
Caps bad

Goalie/Relievers

Nats good
Caps good

General Defense/Starting pitchers

Nats bad
Caps bad

We will see how the season goes, but I don't think it will be pretty.

A short blog about rape and the Washington Post (5 cents)

On page B-1 of today's Post (carried over to page B-2) is an article entitled "Comments on Rape Law Elicit Outrage". A long term Maryland delegate from Prince George's County, Joseph F. Vallario, Jr. , quoted a 17th century English jurist, Sir Matthew Hale, saying in effect that women who were not raped could claim that they were. The context was the discussion of proposed legislation denying parental rights to rapist fathers.

Outrage resulted. Someone googled Hale and discovered the presumed exact quote: "Rape is an accusation easily to be made, hard to be proved, and harder yet to be defended by the party accused". Although no one seems to be calling Vallario evil, many were appaled by the reference.

I am always concerned about the requirements of political correctness, particularly since the quotation does not seem out of line to me; rather, it appears to state a truism.

The article had another surprising reference: in 1987 Virginia apparently passed a law, according to the article, "prohibiting judges from instructing juries to be "skeptical of rape claims". That in itself seems a little weird.

So, OK, no one is in favor of rape, and I think it makes sense that a rapist should not have paternity rights. But (particularly where there has been no criminal conviction) how do you know if a rape occurred.

In fact, on the same page, there was an article (by chance it seems) about a Naval Academy midshipman accused of raping a fellow student. The midshipman's defense is that the sex was consensual. The case is ongoing. Was there a rape? Without some overriding physical evidence, how would you ever know?

A Great Miracle Happened Here

The Capitals and the Nationals won on the same day.

Elijah in the Haggadah (12 cents)

Between the third cup of wine, the tradition is to open the door for Elijah. People remember doing this as long as they remember attending seders. In this country, in Israel, in Europe.

But it isn't in the Haggadah.

There is a mystery here that must be unraveled.

The Plague Continues (12 cents)

By my count, you pass 848 newspaper vending boxes on Connecticut Avenue between Davenport St. and K St.

This and That (2 cents)

1. The New York Times reports that the Baltimore Orioles will have their tenth straight losing season this year, and that that has not happened since they were the St. Louis Browns. Ha!

Of course, the Nationals will have their own problems, won't they? Their five starting pitchers, for example, won a total of (that is all of them added together) two games in the majors last year!

And the Nationals have let Alfonso Soriano and Jose Vidro go. They must be modeling after the Capitals who, after last night's loss, have now lost their last five hundred games, or something like that. Since they traded Dainius Zubrus for very little and then gave away Jamie Heward, what has their record been? Hint: I don't think that they have won more than the Nationals' pitchers won last year.

It's the Washington way.

When I lived in St. Louis, they used to say it was "First in shoes, first in booze, and last in the American League". Washington, which is looking for a new slogan, seems to be "First in news, one of the first in zoos, and last in all the leagues".

My suggestion for city slogan: Washington - where you don't go to the mall to shop.

2. Washington does have cherry blossoms, and yesterday was a beautiful day to walk around the Tidal Basin, and also to stop at the Washington Monument for the kite festival. Billions of people were there, old, young, white, black, Oriental.

3. We saw two movies, "Namesake" and "Flannel Pajamas". Both were relationship movies, and in both cases the relationships went haywire. No happy endings.

"Flannel Pajamas" was the weaker of the two, although I did not really like either movie very much. Two New Yorkers are fixed up by their mutual therapist. They live in New York (the New York papers tended to give the film much more positive reviews), she is somewhat shallow girl from Montana with an attractive smile, he is a Jewish (though you can't prove it by anything that happens in the movie) talker who seems as untrustworthy as they come. Her family is drenched in alcohol and her parents divorced; his mother was crazy but his parents stayed together. Functionality was not a part of either of their family backgrounds. They fall in love, they get married, and then they begin to torment each other, not because they want to, and not loudly, just inevitably. Who are these people, who are presumably finding themselves? I am not sure that they knew themselves any better at the end than they did at the beginning.

We went into "Flannel Pajamas" blind (it was close by and started at the right time), but I thought that my reaction to "Namesake" was going to be positive. But here you go. A young woman in Calcutta has an arranged marriage with a Bengali living and teaching in New York. They struggle (in every way) at first, but wind up with an acceptable house in the suburbs and a lot of Bengali friends. So far, so typical. Their two children become all-American (not surprising) and their older, gifted son (a Yalie and an architect) falls in love with a non-Indian, blond haired daughter of wealth (shades of "Flannel Pajamas"). He ignores his family, and seems to be well on his way to marriage, when his father dies, and he has guilt and regets and remembers he is Indian, and throws away (really, no better word for it) his girlfriend Maxine, and meets and quickly marriages the girl of his parents dream, the daughter of a couple of from the old country. Happy ever after? Not on your life. His new wife, Mo, it seems needs more than one guy at a time and begins an affair with old French boyfriend Pierre. Splitsville, once more.

Commonalities: relationships that go sour, although in the first movie you thought it was because they were from different backgrounds, and in the second the only reason they got together is that they were from similar backgrounds. And Christmas: in the first movie, Christmas in Montana is central to everything, although the fact that the boyfriend was (so-called) Jewish did not seem to matter at all. In the second, the Hindu family has wreaths and trees and reindeer on the lawn, all brightly lit.

Ugh.

3. Good food. Arucola and Luiginis. Neither new to us. Both reliable for good fish dinners. And a very good Italian wine, Passamante, at Luigini's.

Sticking with food for a minute, the weekend before, we had a tapas lunch at Jaleo, and I ordered a sherry, a Palo Cortado. What is that? I looked it up in Wikipedia, and they said: "it is a rare variety of sherry that is initially aged under flor to become a fino or amontillado, but inexplicably loses its veil of flor and begins aging oxidatively as an oloroso." No wonder I liked it.

4. I finished the book about Colonel Frank Brandstetter, World War II hero, owner/manager of Las Brisas Hotel in Acapulco, U.S. intelligence operator. As I said before, it was an interesting book. I looked it up on Amazon. There appear to have been no professional reviews (it was published by University of North Texas Press), but has twelve reader reviews, all positive, some glowing. Several of the reviewers talk about meeting Brandstetter and how impressive he is. Several say that this story is very important and should be assigned by schools and bought by libraries.

Well, that's enough to get you suspicious. Friends of the author writing reviews? You gotta wonder. Particularly, since entries on Google about Brandstetter are primarily limited to mentions of the book.

Is the guy real?

Extra, Extra, Read All About It (4 cents)

Am I the only person concerned about the proliferation of newspaper vending boxes on DC streets? I don't object to those that offer useful publications, but many are there offering free advertising publications or purporting to provide publications that have ceased to exist. These tend to become used as trash cans or the like, and become dirty and unsightly. I have no idea what the law is regarding these boxes.

But clearly there are too many of them and their numbers are growing. For example, on L Street between Connecticut Avenue and 17th Streets (one block), there are 38 boxes. Last night, when we attended a movie about 40 blocks up Connecticut Avenue, I counted more than 20 boxes on that block.

One day, when the weather is nice and I feel like a long walk, I will pick a street (maybe Connecticut Avenue) and count the boxes from stem to stern.

Daniel Schorr at 90 (81 cents)

Daniel Schorr, still active at ninety, participated in a conversation this evening with Marvin Kalb at Adas Israel.

Schorr talked about his first job with the Jewish Telegraphic Agency, how he became a European stringer for a number of American and British newspapers, before going to work for Edward R. Murrow at CBS. And the rest is history. He has been everywhere, and reported everything.

But best were the anecdotes:

1. When he first was given a responsibility on television, he asked someone what you need for success in this new media. He was told that the answer was "sincerity". "You need to project sincerity, and know how to fake it."

2. When he was in Moscow in 1956, he was going to go on vacation, but had heard that there might be a secret meeting of the Communist Central Committee. Important things were going on, including the Stalin denunciation, the Hungarian revolution and invasion and the march by Israel and others towards the Suez Canal. He was at a reception and Khrushchev was there, and he had a chance to speak a little to him. He told Khrushchev that he was about to leave on vacation, but that he had heard there might be a meeting, so he just did not know what to do. Khrushchev says to him: "Let me understand this. You want to take a vacation but are concerned that you are gone for two weeks, there might be a meeting of the Central Committee. Right? Well, Gospadin Schorr, my advice to you is to go ahead, not worry about anything, and take your vacation." "So there won't be a meeting, Mr. Khrushchev?" "Well, let's put it this way. If it really becomes necessary to meet, we will go ahead without you."

3. During the Nixon years, the Nixon administration identified Schor as one of its enemies, and the White House asked the FBI to get some background on him. The FBI misunderstood the request, thinking that they were being asked to do background checking on Schor for a possible White House appointment so, among other things, they interviewed Schorr, who told them that there must be a mistake and there was no White House job he would accept. The White House was nonplussed at this revelation, and thought that the best thing to do was to tell a White (House) lie: "we were thinking about hiring him, but changed our mind". Of course this all came out, and the misuse of the FBI was one of the bases for the suggested Nixon impeachment. Twenty years later, Schorr was at a dinner where ex-President Nixon was speaking. He went up to him and said: "Mr. Nixon, you may not remember me..." Nixon interrupted him and said: "Your Dan Schorr. Of course I remember you. I almost gave you a job."

4. As to Libby and the effect it might have on future leaks to the press: "Libby. I believe that it means that there will be no major leaks the next three weeks."

Other things he said were not funny, but interesting. The position over time of the New York Times not to over-hire Jewish journalists or to cover Jewish issues to closely. The respect with which Edward R. Murrow held his journalists (Murrow, who had never been a newspaperman), and how much respect CBS boss William Paley had for his journalists: "You guys go get the news, and don't worry about the money. We hae Jack Benny to make the money."

Was Nixon a bad president? No, a good one, just paranoid. Was he anti-Semitic? No, but some of his people were, and he wanted to be one of the guys. What about Carter's reference to Israel and apartheid? "Not worth talking about".

Kalb added a lot to the night, as well. He has known Schorr since 1956, asked questions well, and added his own interesting comments.

It was very well attended.

Paul Limbert died at 101 (1 cent)

But not before he wrote his autobiography at age 100. I read it, "Reliving A Century", perhaps faster than any book I have ever read. After all, how much time does one want to spend on Paul Limbert.

Well, let me tell you. It seems to me that he was quite a guy. He was from a small town in southeastern Pennsylvania, went to Franklin & Marshall College, was ordained as a minister, and was primarily interested in religious education, veering more towards the education side as his career advanced. His religious outlook was always broadly liberal and ecumenical. I assume that he could get along with, and respect, everyone. He got an advanced degree from Columbia, taught at the New School, and became president of Springfield College. Thoughout all of this, he was very active in YMCA affairs, traveling the world (and I mean the world) until he was well into his 90s.

He had a long marriage, children and grandchildren, and said one of his major accomplishments was presiding, or co-presiding, at the wedding of each of his grandchildren, including the one who married a Jewish girl.

He admits to getting old, saying that at 99 he was diagnosed with congestive heart failure, and in fact he died a year after this book was finished.

He comes across as the kind of person that everyone should try to be. So, although I never heard of him before I picked up this book, and although I ran through it in about two hours, I think one should want to spend a lot of time on Paul Limbert.

All the News That's Fit to Print?

Yesterday's and today's Washington Post's front page. (I understand that the motto is the Times', not the Post's)

1. The Republicans have been arguing against giving the District a voice in Congress because it would be unconstitutional. But when it comes down to the vote itself, they don't vote against it for that reason, but instead attach a rider to overturn DC's gun laws. So much for Republican principles! (I think the Constitutional question is a serious one, and my response is easy: amend the Constitution.)

2. John Edwards' wife cancer has spread and is now Stage IV. Very sad. And I can understand wanting to get on with your life. But continuing to run for the presidency? I don't think that is the thing to do. But what should one do in this circumstance? Let's fall back again on Republican principles. WWND?*

*What Would Newt Do?

You remember that Newt G., when his wife had cancer, told her he wanted a divorce!! [Odd isn't it, that the family values parties has Newt, who has been married three times, John McCain who has been married twice, and Rudy Guliani, who with his wife have six marriages between them? The party of family values, indeed. Why, by the way, has the other Republican contender, Mitt Romney, only had one wife? After all, as a Mormon, can't he have as many as he wants?]

3. So by a close vote, the House has put a 2008 deadline on troops in Iraq. I would like to have no troops in Iraq in March 2007, but does this legislation really make sense? On any level? But why are we in Iraq now, after all? You got it. Republican principles.

4. Alberto Gonzales continues to maintain that he had nothing to do with firing 8 U.S. attorneys. Now it turns out, he was in at least one meeting to discuss this very topic! Well, perhaps he just doesn't remember. That was Scooter Libby's excuse you recall. Must be another example of Republican principles.

So, what would I say, if I were a Republican, to all of this? I would say: "You are mistaking the principles of these Republicans for Republican principles. Republican principles are in favor of democracy for all, family values, national self-determination, and honesty and transparency before all."

I see.

Something to Think About (8 cents)

I am reading a book entitled "Brandy: Our Man in Acapulco", the story of Colonel Frank M. Brandstetter. I am only about 25% through the book. Brandstetter was a Hungarian refugee, World War II American army hero, and (I am led to believe) later both a hotelier and a CIA spy. The first part of his life was more than interesting, and I have a feeling we haven't even gotten to the good part.

But enough of that. I want to quote from page 72 of the book:

"Finally, the German soldier [and POW being interrogated by Brandstetter] spat on a small American flag that Brandy had on his desk.

"Infuriated, Brandy jumped up and slugged the German in the face, knocking him senseless. He realized that he must humiliate the prisoner, so he ordered his sergeant to undress the German while he was unconscious. When the POW revived, he was quite humbled. Standing at attention in the brisk, cold room without a stitch of clothing on, he answered the questions without further resistance. In the midst of the interrogation, two British officers accidentally stepped into the room, took one look, then left.

"Brandy thought that they might report him for demeaning the prisoner, but he concluded the investigation. Years later, by one of those strange quirks of fate that seemed to trace his life, brandy met the British actor David Niven after his filming of "Around the World in Eight Days". Niven had been a Phantom during the war, and when comparing notes with Brandy, he asked if Brandy had ever heard the story of an American FID officer who had questioned a German prisoner in the nude! Niven, it seems, had been one of the two officers from General Bernard Montgomery's headquarters who had interrupted the questioning, and he remmebered the moment for years afterward as one of the most gratifying he had experienced during the war."

Think Abu Graib.

Is this really that bad??

MELTDOWN!!!!!!!

Balalaikas at Church

I had not attended church since before Christmas.

OK, not church church, but the Tuesday noontime concerts at Church of the Epiphany.

So I was glad to get back this week, and hear the Balalaikas, a local group composed of Russians, Ukrainians and a couple of Americans.

The instruments are balalaikas, domras and a bayan.

The music was what I would call Russian easy listening. Familiar tunes with nice melodies and just the right rythm to keep you going. The only piece that I think they could have skipped was "Lara's Theme", the non-Russian tune from Doctor Zhivago. But I guess it is a crowd pleaser.

A very pleasant hour.

A Senior Moment, or Not? (34 cents)

This morning, I left the gym and walked the fifteen minute walk home, only to realize that I had left my keys and wallet in plain sight at one of the exercise machines. I walked back and everything was there, and I went back home.

I thought that this forgetfulness must be a sign of age, but.....

This evening, as I was walking up the street, I passed a young man (maybe 25-30), who was speaking into a cell phone: "Listen, I can't go home, because I left my keys in the bag, and can't get in."

So, maybe it is not a sign of age.

Just of mental incompetence.

Got Ten Minutes to Spare?

That's right, ten minutes.

If you do, stop in the Renwick and look at the 2007 invitational craft show.

You won't need more than ten minutes, and it will be ten minutes well spent.

Only four craftspeople are involved, and I liked three of them very much, Peggy Bartron and Beth Lipman (very different works in glass), and Beth Cavener Stichter, who sculpts large, whimsical clay animals.

I repeat. Stop by.

Eadweard Muybridge

Eadweard Muybridge was a preeminent 19th century American photographer, best known for his kinetic pictures (pre-movies) of galloping horses and athletic men.

I always thought that he must have had weird parents, because they named him what they did. Then I learned that they named him Edward Muggeridge, and he changed his own name. So, I thought he must be weird.

Or at least not ordinary. This was confirmed when I learned that, after he immigrated to America from England and married, he shot and killed his wife's lover, was arrested and tried, but acquitted on the basis of a justifiable homicide.

But he apparently decided it was time to get out of town, and so he worked out an arrangement with the Pacific Mail Steamship Company, in 1875, to take a trip to Central America, and take some pictures.

What pictures they are. And, although I have never been to Central America, how must it have changed.

For anyone interested in 19th century photos of fairly remote places, go see the exhibit at the American Art Museum. It will be there through the end of April.

(And, if you have a few minutes, you can also stop by the Decatur House and see about 20 large black and white pictures of Washington DC taken by photographer Volkmar Wentzel. They are beautiful pictures, although I think they are more art, than travelogue. Night scenes and snow scenes predominate, with a few portraits and more intimate settings.

Only a Coincidence?

Yesterday, we were entertained twice, going to both a movie and a play. We did not know quite what to expect from either.

The movie was 'The Lives of Others', the highly touted German movie about totalitarian East Germany, and play was Martin McDonough's 'The Pillowman', about another (unnamed) totalitarian country.

We did not know we were going to see two shows about totalitarian countries and, more than this, about police enforcement.

More than this, though, each had as a central feature, the change in attitude of a major enforcement official, who had a change of heart as he became more sympathetic to a presumed criminal. And in each case we were dealing with the investigation of a writer nd his circle.

Other than this, there were great differences. In The Lives of Others, the East German Stasi was attempting to get the goods on a prominent East German playwright largely because the Minister in charge of the Stasi wanted to get as his own the woman (an actress) who lived with the playwright. So, the investigation itself was corrupt, the investigator began to sympathize with his target, and when the target at long last himself began to undertake actions that were in fact anti-government, the investigator decided not only to doctor his own reporting, but, so to speak, to change the facts on the ground to thwart his fellow investigators.

In The Pillowman, the question was whether several murders of young children could be ascribed to another writer, as the murders bore similarities to some of his stories. It turned out that the writer himself was not at fault (unless you can be at fault for writing horror stories), but someone close to him was. But the harshest of the two policeman investigating the situation began to soften, as his own history began to cloud his mind.

The morals of the stories? One, that totalitarian countries tend to go after innocent people, but the innocent people may not be all that innocent. And second, that the enforcement bureaucrats are people, too.

Well, neither of these may be profound. I thought that both the movie and the play made for interesting watching (although the movie was a bit too slow and long for my taste), but neither was compelling and neither is the last word on this subject.

Dinner at Viridian, however, was the highlight of the day. The barrimundi was the best I ever tasted.

A Double Constitutional Whammy for Washington (one cent)

The sad facts:

1. Washington's gun law, prohibiting keeping hand guns in residences, was declared unconstitutional by a D.C. Court of Appeals panel of three Republican judges, including Judge Silberman, who has always been controversial. The argument of course is that the second amendment to the Constitution allows us to have a gun in our house. What kind of gun? How many guns? Those questions have not yet been adjudicated.

The sad fact is that guns kill people, and injure them. Gun fanciers, when its convenient, say you need guns for sport, and, when its convenient, say you need them for self defense. And, they appear to say, the second amendment protects the ownership of guns for these, and presumably for any, reason.

The argument about what the second amendment really says will go on forever, because there is no answer. It becomes, in my mind, irrelevant.

What is relevant is that, from everything I have seen, guns kept for self defense kill and injure more innocent people accidentally than the kill, injure or scare off intruders. And a significant number of those people are children.

We don't know yet if the ruling will remain, and if the District's gun control laws will, to this extent, be unenforced. But if they are, and if casualties result,I suggest we keep a new statistic in the District of Columbia.

And that we call it the Silberman count.

2. D.C. Representation in Congress. The bill to give D.C. a single vote in the House of Representatives (and to Utah an additional one) will pass the House of Representatives, but it is not clear that it will get the 60 votes necessary to pass the Senate under Senate rules.

Whether such a law would be constitutional is a matter of hot debate (and, unlike the silly debates over the second amendment, is a legitimate one), and in fact the law may not be consitutional.

But the recently announced White House opposition to the law on consitutional grounds is, if not unexpected, certainly misguided. Let the court's decide the consitutionality, if that is in question, and come up with an alternative plan (say, a Constitutional amendment) if it is not.

Imagine. Can you see the Bush White House supporting a democratic regime in Iraq based on the simple premise that all Iraqis 18 years of age and older can have representation in the Iraqi parliament, except for those residing in Baghdad?

What is the difference?, I ask.

And, by the way, getting back to the Constitution, the Constitution talks about the need for a militia to ensure a free state, and therefore that the right to own and bear arms should be protected. Of course, it says nothing about where the owners of the guns shall be permitted to keep them. And, it talks about the right being necessary to ensure a free state. What is a "state"? Is it a country, like the United States (see the difference-- 'state' or 'States'), or a state like Louisiana? It surely isn't a state like D.C., is it? So maybe the second amendment doesn't even apply to our nation's capital. It's a thought. No sillier than some of the other constitutional arguments made with regard to the Second Amendment.

By the way, the Cato Institute lawyer who brought the gun case, a man named Robert Levy, who does not live in the District, was the subject of a biographical piece in this morning's Washington Post. Now, I understand that newspapers are not always accurate in their descriptions. But I will say this: if they are only half accurate in their descripton of Levy, he is an awful human being.

I know that is harsh, but read the article and decide for yourself.

Maybe we should have two separate gun crime statistics. The Silberman count and the Levy count, one for juvenile casualties and one for adults. I don't care which is attached to whom; take your pick.

1958 (Read On)

In 1958, I could have bought and read "Eastern Exposure" by Marvin Kalb, and "Days of Our Lives" by Rose Pesotta. I didn't however, and I bet most others didn't either.

But I have read them now and enjoyed them both.

Here is a brief reprise.

"Eastern Exposure". In 1956, journalist Marvin Kalb was a Harvard graduate student in Russian Studies (or some such field), doing his dissertation research under the auspices of Harvard's Russian Research Center on the subject of Count Sergei Semeonovich Uvanov, an early 19th century Russian government official. He learned that the U.S. Embassy in Moscow wanted to hire two press attaches. He applied for the position and was accepted. He had never been to the U.S.S.R., but knew the country from afar and spoke the language well enough to get along.

"Eastern Exposure" is his journal of his year in Russia. Whether he had any responsibilities at the embassy is unclear, because the journal is full of wanderings through the city, brief descriptions of people he met, theatrical and musical performances, short excursions out of town, and travel to such places at Leningrad, Baku, Samarkand, Tashkent and Tblisi. He carried a U.S. diplomatic passport.

Russia had long been closed to foreigners (at least Russia outside of Moscow and certain specified tourist locations). You still could not wander at will, but with the help of the diplomatic passport and Intourist guides, you could do much more than you could just a few years earlier. And 1956, to Kalb's benefit, turned out to be a tumultous year in Soviet history. It was the year in which Khrushchev gave his famous XXth Congress secret speech denouncing Stalin, and it was the year of the Hungarian Revolution. It was also, as a consequence of mainly the latter, the year that the USSR tightened up its loosening regulations for foreignors, so that the 1956 experience might not have been replicable in 1957 or 1958.

What effect this book had on Kalb's career as a journalist, I am not sure. It is mainly a blog, no better and no worse, but because of the subject matter, even today makes for fascinating reading, as Kalb sees modern Moscow, European Leningrad, and variations of Asiatic Soviet cities that range from the lively (Tblisi) to the overly depressing (Tashkent). He meets people afraid to talk,and people anxious to talk, He goes to churches, and synagogues, and libraries, and hotels, and museums. He travels on Russian airplanes, and trains. He hears a lot of sad stories, he hears stories of hope. He is very happy to come home.

"Days of Our Lives" was written by a woman who became a high ranking AFL-CIO figure, but who lived in the Ukraine in a shtetl called Derazhnaya until she was 16 when, just before World War I broke out, she and her grandmother took a boat to the U.S. Her town had about 5000 Jews (and a fair number of gentiles), and was, if not idyllic, certainly a more than satisfactory place to grow up. Especially if you are one of 8 children, and part of the economic elite (in our terms, this would probably mean middle class, no better) of the Jewish community, so that you did not have to worry about food or shelter, and your family was always respected by the overall community.

Her story of life in Derazhnaya, day to day, holiday, Shabbat, etc. is set out with clarity and a little humor. To the extent it is typical, it makes for good reading as a primer on shtetl life. This was clearly a period of transition, where the old ways were being transformed by modernity, where there was communication with the outside world, and relatives already sending gifts from America, but where Jewish life still kept in its basic form the aspects of the past several hundred years. I recommend this book, because of its straightforward description of this life. Not over sentimentalized, not over dramatized. Just day to day life.

What stands out? Probably, doing the laundry, something that happened every two weeks. Read on:

"If the weather was good, the pair would take the soiled linen into the back yard and wash it in wooden tubs. In winter they would do this in the kitchen. When the clothes had been painstakingly soaped and soaked and rubbed on a a washboard with white lime, I would accompany the two down to the river, three or four hundred feet away, and we would rinse each peice thoroughly, a slow and arduous process. We knelt at the river's edge and dipped each piece into the water, beating it with a wooden paddle on a flat stone, then dipped it in again and wrung it out with our hands. Aches and large areas of chapped skin were the result.

"The next step was to bring the linen back, give it a sudsy bath, and put it into a zelnitzya, an improvised sterilizer, made of a large hollowed out tree stump, about four feet high, with a wooden lattice fitted into the bottom. On this lattice, the clothes were placed and covered with clean sifted wood ashes.

"Then we would pour in several samovars of boiling water, using our extra large samovar, designed for special occasions. The water would trickle down through the compact mass of bedding, towels, table cloths, napkins, underwear, and other articles, and would flow through the lattice work at the base of the stump. Then we would put a wooden cover on top of the sterilizer, and let the hot steam and wet ashes do their work overnight.

"Returning next morning, mother and daughter would pull the plugs, remove a layer of soft, warm lava-like substance into which the ashes had turned, and take out the clothes, by this time sterlized and bleached. To the river again for another thorough rinsing, and then home once more, to blue and starch the white pieces and hang the whole wash outdoors to dry.

"This part of the process had its vicissitudes. Wind would blow dust from the street, rain would fall....From the hour we began washing until the next day, and sometimes the third day, when all the pieces were finally ironed and put on the shelvesin the linen commode, we were never certain of the outcome of our joint labors."

Another interesting subject in the book was Pesotta's discussion of three different young Jews whom she met while still in the Ukraine - one who worked as a gardner, one as a housekeeper, and one who helped escort small children to school. Each was described as "simple" and not quite all there. Each remained in her town a while, and then disappeared.

After she left the Ukraine, she ran into all three, one in America, one on the boat and one 20+ years later when she was on a trip to Europe. None were "simple" at all. It turned out that each was a political radical, in hiding from the Russian government until they could get out of the country. It was as if there were some sort of "underground railway" in operation that moved them from town to town and gave them a different, and presumably non-attention getting persona. I had not seen discussion of this elsewhere.

Finally, when she came to the United States, she and her grandmother (who had gone through all sorts of life adventures only to be killed by a hit and run driver in Chicago)came on a second class ticket. She said that this way they avoided Ellis Island, which was only for steerage passengers. I did not know that either. Do you think it is true??

Weather or Not

This is true.

I turn on the weather channel this morning. It is exactly 9 a.m., and I want to get a professional opinion about the weather today. The Weather Channel's anchor turns to a young weatherwoman to give the opening report. She says (only a bit of a paraphrase):

"Winter is still here. In Hyde Park NY this morning, there is about a foot of snow on the ground. I spoke to my mother this morning. She lives there. That is what she told me. At least, she said that that is what it seems like, looking out her window."

Family Secrets (1 cent)

The Post gave one-woman show Family Secrets a glowing review, and the audience tonight at Theater J seemed very appreciative.

I thought it was awful. Given a choice of seeing the show again or becoming a suicide bomber, I am not sure which one I would take.

Is Sherry Glasser without talent? No. Does her portrayal of five different characters contain some universal truths? Sure. But is it clever, or is it funny? Not to me.

So, here we go again. Everyone else liked the Cardinals, I liked the Browns...........

Year of the Devil

The "Year of the Devil" is a 2002 Czech movie that has won a bevy of awards in the Czech Republic. It stars a number of apparently very prominent Czech musicians (including Jaromir Nohavice, Karel Plihal and the band Czechomor) in a not quite true to life documentary about Nohavice's alcoholism, Plihal's emotional breakdown during which he did not speak for a year, and their recovery tour with Czechomor. While sticking to the facts in a general manner, there is a lot of mockumentary fol-de-rol thrown in, including a Dutch photographer, filming everything that is going on and himself become part of the show, and a general theme of people disappearing through spontaneous combustion. AA is featured (is it glorified or critiqued? hard to say), as is spiritualism (non-main stream) of the highest order. The movie switches between English and Czech, with the subtitles moving just as rapidly; I found that to be a little headache producing.

Did I enjoy the movie? I found it interesting. Not enjoyable. Should everyone run and see it? No. Unless you are Czech, and know the characters, and know the music. Then it is apparently a do not miss situation.

It played at the Avalon, as part of their once a month Czech film series.

Cherokee Maidens

Some time ago I wrote about a fascinating book I just happened to pick up about the "black Seminoles". It told the story of a group of African Americans who moved to Florida and joined with the Seminole Indians, before they were removed to Oklahoma Territory, and how this group of "black Seminoles" were sometimes part of the tribe, and sometimes not. Their fate was unfortunately, and certainly undeserved. But, although there were a few old people who remembered the black Seminoles, this was history, and interesting as history.

But now, it turns out, that there were also African Americans who affiliated with the Cherokees. In this instance, history seemed a bit different. For one thing, the "black Cherokee" had inter-married with Cherokees, just as other groups had inter-married with them. For another, they were long ago identified as tribal members. But now, the Cherokees have voted to de-tribe them. Not only full-blooded African-Americans, but any descendant of an African American, even if the majority of his or her ancestors were themselves Cherokee. Offspring of these relationships would be treated differently than any other group descendant from a mixture of Cherokee and non-Cherokee forebearers.

Racism is racism. It should not be allowed in this country, no matter who practices it. Tribal autonomy should not be permitted to abrogate this most basic fact.

Fiddler in the Sanctuary

The cast of Fiddler in the Roof deserve a lot of credit for staging this difficult show in the Har Shalom sanctuary, without a hitch. Michelle and her sisters looked and sounded great. And the show is a very good show, no matter how you look at it. On any hand.

What Happened to Tania Libertad? (1 cent)

So, as of Saturday morning, I was not certain how we would spend the evening. Looking for something a little different, I saw that there was a concert by two Latin American singers at Lisner Auditorium that night, Tania Libertad and Jorge Drexler. The price was right, tickets were available, and so we went.

We did not know at all what to expect, having never heard either of the headliners. I had seen some of the ads, which touted the fact that these two stars were going to be on the same stage. I looked up both on Google, and saw that Libertad was Peruvian, but lived in Mexico, and that Drexler was from Uruguay but lived in Spain. I also saw that Drexler had written the theme music to "Motorcycle Diaries", the movie about the life of Che Guevera (interestingly, like Che, Jorge is a physician by training), and that he had won an academy award for his efforts. I had not seen the movie (but wanted to), and I certainly did not know the song.

When we picked up our ticket, I saw that Drexler's name was bigger than Libertad's. This surprised me, since is contradicted the pre-show publicity I had seen.

There were no programs.

We took our seats in the big auditorium. It was announced that Libertad would be first, followed by an intermission, followed by Drexler.

Libertad came on with four musicians, two keyboards, and guitar (bass?) and drums.

She is a big woman with a big voice. She is not 'pop', but more like a singer of stories, who wails the stories. Her voice has no rhythm; it's qualities are almost, but not quite, operatic. She is very good. She is very loud. Her accompaniment was odd, to my taste. I guess I would call it fusion; it was much more modern than she was, it played with different (and competing rhythms), particulary in the person of the drummer (who played on drums more akin to folks drums than snare drums). She was well received. She may have spoken no English; if she did, you sure couldn't tell it.

After the intermission, Drexler came on. Everyone seemed to know him. He was all by himself, with his amplified acoustic guitar and his keyboard/synthesizer. He played both. He spoke and sang in two languages. He was very charming, very disarming, and had an infectious smile. His voice does not nearly have the calibre of Libertad's; but he is clearly much more engaging. By himself on this big stage, he was your friend. He got raves. He sang three encores. He took bows. He loved Washington, and Washington seemed to love him back.

Libertad did not come back on for a bow; it was like she was already back in Mexico.

The concert was reviewed in the Post Tuesday morning. Drexler got a very good review (it was pretty much as I said above). Libertad was not even mentioned.

What happened to Tania Libertad???

Growing Up (8 cents)

Everyone else liked the Cardinals; I liked the Browns. Everyone else liked the Post-Dispatch; I liked the Globe Democrat. Everone else liked hamburgers; I liked fried chicken. Everyone else liked chocolate ice cream; I liked butter pecan. Everyone else went to Shaare Emeth or Temple Israel; I went to United Hebrew. Everyone else went to camp in Wisconsin; I went to camp in the Ozarks. Everyone else had their hair cut by Earl; I had my hair cut by Walter. Everyone else got Pevely milk at their house; I got Sealtest. Everyone else used Ipana toothpaste; I used Colgate. Everyone else wore blue jeans; I wore khakis. Everyone else went to Dr. Deutsch; I went to Dr. Gibstine. I didn't do anything anyone else did, did I? And I turned out so normal.

Daylight Savings Time

Winter ahead, fall behind.

Taps for the Caps? (25 cents)

After last night's 3-0 loss to the Hurricanes (and the second shut out in a row), coach Glenn Hanlon appeared to refuse to say whether he saw any light at the end of the tunnel. He did volunteer that he wasn't having fun.

So what happened? Well, yes, there have been a very large number of injuries, including another dumb one last night to defenseman John Erskine. But there have also been two trades that clearly have no helped. Trading Dainius Zubrus to Buffalo for a draft pick seems pretty dumb. And trading Jamie Heward for virtually nothing seems dumber. Not only with regard to the skating ability for a team strugging anyway, but maybe even more so psychologically.

But we have seen this before with late season trades by the Caps, where the season is lost and the promise is "wait until next year".

Perhaps the problem really is George McPhee, the long time general manager who does not seem to do too much that is right. The "Trade McPhee" cheer that started up one day while we were at the game is probably right on.

McPhee tried to justify the trades in a letter to the fans, saying that the Caps will be a much better team next summer. Great! I understand the Nationals were not too bad this past winter, either.

Sumner School Today

Last year, I wrote about an exhibit on the life of Adolph Cluss, German-born self trained architect, who emigrated to Washington early in his life and designed an extraordinary number of the city's public buildings during the second half of the 19th century. The buildings were, I think, notable for the way they combined comfortable architecture to formal architecture.

A suprising number of those buildings have been demolished in the name of progress. Those that remain include both the Sumner and Franklin Schools.

The Sumner school is used for temporary exhibits, concerts, and so forth. I think it can be rented for functions generally (perhaps only by not-for-profits). It belongs to the school system and houses the public school archives among other things. It is fully restored.

Last year, they had an excellent exhibit about Cluss that very rew people went to see. They issued an excellent coffee table book on the exhibit, which I have recently seen for sale at the excellent store at the Building Museum. It is filled with photographs and interesting items about the history of the District in the post-civil war years.

I was in Sumner School today for other reasons and see that one room of the Cluss exhibit is still open, and encourage you to walk through it.

Why was I in the museum? Because I saw that there were two other exhibits which had recently opened. One, sponsored by a group called Friends Forever, which is a Zimbabwean art collective, is showing several hundred sculptures in stone by contemporary Zimbabwean artists. While some of the prices are in the thousands, some (most, perhaps, are in the $200 to $500 range. They are worth looking at, both for the artistry as well as the quality and variety of the stones used, as well as purchasing. The exhibit will there until the end of June, and it is to be replenished as works are sold.

The other exhibit, is by a Philippino-American artist named Nilo M. Santiago, whose works are primarily water colors. They are half-way between cartoons and traditional water colors (i.e., there is very little fading in and out, and many fine line boundaries), and are filled with bright colors. American subjects, Philippino subjects, and subjects painted on a round the world tour (including some interesting paintings of Russian cathedrals). The most interesting to me is a series called My Philippines, which treat his early life with his family in almost collage fashion (but not collages) with written explanations of the events taking place woven into the fabric of the oversize paintings. Would I acquire a Santiago? I liked the series on his life (about $700 each), but would hate to see the series broken up (there are five or six of them). The others, I would probably pass up.

I Should Say Something About Scooter Libby

If your testimony is "I just don't remember" and you can be convicted because you are not believed, I hope I am never put on trial. I believe anyone over the age of 55 (Scotter is 56) who says that they can't remember something.

So, I am sorry that Libby was convicted.

And I hope that George Bush pardons him (soon, before he needs to mortgage his future in legal fees). And then I hope Bush gets raked over the coals because of it.

There is Nothing Like a Cold (one cent)

Nothing in this world.

There is nothing like a cold, to give you time to read.

So, having awakened with a sore throat on Sunday, which continued for 48 hours, I got to read two books.

The first was a fascinating book, "Shadow Warrior" by Felix Rodriguez, a Cuban native and Castro foe, who was involved in the Bay of Pigs and other contemporaneous anti-Castro measures (and there were surprisingly many of them), chasing Che Guevara in the jungles of Bolivia (while an employee of the CIA) and being the last person to speak with Che before he was murdered by the Bolivian military, as well as accompanying Che's body back from the jungle restreat where he was captured and killed, counter intelligence in Viet Nam, assisting an Argentine reform government, and being involved with the Contras in Central America (before becoming thoroughly disillusioned with Oliver North). Rodriquez, who is just a year older than me, and who now lives (apparently quietly) in Florida, certainly passed his time differently from the way I have. This is a book to read (co-written by a John Weissman).

The second, because a cold calls for light reading, was a thriller by T. Jefferson Parker, whose work I had not read before. "Red Light" is quick reading (another requisite for a cold), filled with somewhat snappy dialogue, but burdened by a predictable, yet unlikely plot that makes the entire book fairly worthless. I won't give it away, but it involes police officers (current and retired), prostitutes (alive and dead), mobsters, politicians, and newspapermen. The customer reviews on Amazon.com are pretty good, but I am not sure why.

Catching Up Before I Fall Behind Even More (15 cents)

1. The low point of the weekend? Waking up with a sore throat on Sunday morning and feeling sick all day long.

2. But what about Saturday night? What about Saturday night? It was fairly typical. We went with out of town friends to see Little Red and the Renegades play at the annual Ambassador's Ball sponsored by the Maritime Republic of Eastport at the Eastport Democratic Club in Annapolis. Got home at about 1 a.m. Heard a lot of zydeco accordian sounds, along with drums, steel drum, keyboard, baritone sax, trumpet, trombone, bass and assorted vocals. Drinks might have been $6.50, but a Diet Coke was only a dollar.

3. The restaurant of the weekend? Montmarte next to Eastern Market on Capitol Hill. Lunch was cauliflour and mussels soup, and chicken and spinch quiche. Everyone was pleased. And I did not have to pay, because our out of town guest turned out to be a very tricky person. "Excuse me while I go to the bathroom" was the line that let her accost the waitress and pay the bill. (I wish more people were like her.)

4. The song? Not what Little Red played, but rather the Teapackets' "He's Gonna Push the Button", Israel's entry this year into the Eurovision song contest. Look up the title in Google, and you will get both Myspace and Youtube URLs.

5. The book? Another popular title, "My Yesteryears" by Lee Meriwether, St. Louis attorney and sometime diplomat, published in 1942 by the International Mark Twain Society in Webster Groves. Have you read it? Interesting in many ways.

Meriwether was a distant relative of Meriwether Lewis, the explorer, who is widely believed to have committed suicide. Meriwether doubts this, suggesting that he was murdered and that the murderers conjured up the suicide story to cover up their unwitnessed crime. This theory is apparently still alive. But who ever heard of this possibility?

Meriwether was born in Mississippi after her mother was unceremoniously booted out of Memphis, when occupying General Sherman decided that the arbitrary exile of southern women from the city would convince the Confederacy to stop some of its military actions. The tale of his birth is pretty shocking. Who ever heard of this?

It is true that in many ways, Meriwether remained a southerner at heart, even after moving to St. Louis (as if that would make a difference) and his view of the south during reconstruction could be used as corroboration for W.D. Griffith's portrayals in "Birth of a Nation". Carpetbaggers, scalawags, and former slaves run wild. What is interesting about this is the casual way that he presents it, as if it were a known fact that no one could (or would ever think to) deny or argue against. And, similarly, the Ku Klux Klan is described as a most beneficial organization. "From this frightful fate the South was saved by a plan as fantastic as it was illegal. The Ku Klux Klan was organized by the best men of the South".

He worked first for his brother, a journalist who put out a periodical dedicated to free trade policies. Until his brother tied, and Meriwether, still a teenager, decided to see the world, and ran off to Italy. But Italy was quite primitive in those days and he returned, following up a meeting with someone abroad by applying for and getting a job with the state Labor Commission.

Suddenly, he was a labor expert and the state commissioner, and before long became a public figure with his critique of the mining companies and their treatment of their employees. He was a marked man, who escaped being targeted for murder, and was considered an appropriate candidate (twice) for mayor of St. Louis. As an anti-establishment and reform candidate, according to his memoirs (and from what I can see, accurately so), he won twice, but lost both times because of vote rigging.

So, like all others with nothing to do, he became a lawyer, and then became a diplomat, being assigned the the American Embassy in Paris during the First World War, when he proved himself unable to stick to the party line and became a rescuer through the issuance of unauthorized paper of Americans caught behind the lines, and an acquirer of furniture which had not been approved. The latter was enough to get him dismissed (although he noted that, years later, he visited the embassy and the furniture was still there and in use).

His position was somewhat ambiguous during the war with regard to the satanization of Germany (he thought we were being very one-sided), but it changed abruptly when Hitler became chancellor in 1933, and Meriwether became outspoken as to the evils of Naziism.

He then seemed to have segued out of the law business, and spent much of his later years (he was 80 when the book was written) traveling with his wife. But it was not winters in Miami. They went to the Soviet Union in the 1930s at the height of Stalinism; they toured southeast Asia. And he writes interestingly of what he saw, and of the people he met.

Meriwether's life was clearly eventful, and in an odd way, as he just sort of went about his business, and Forrest Gump-like (or Zelig), there he was.

I know you have not read the book. I know you won't. But you would find it very worthwhile.

Oh, and by the way, it is readable, and filled with humor and irony.

6. And the magazine? I would suggest the February issue of the Jerusalem Report. Boy, do they collect interesting articles. For example, what do you know about black Muslim refugees from Darfur who have found their way to Israel and asked for asylum? Or, continuing with Africa, about the current status of the Jewish community in Bulawayo, Zimbabwe? What do you know about the conditions faced by female Zionist pioneers in the early 20th century? Or, for that matter, about the life (and death) of Houdini? Do you know that Ehud Barak wants to come back as prime minister (as does Benjamin Netanyahu), and that in spite of the failure of his early term, he might have a chance to take over leadership of the Labor Party (and do you know how he might accomplish this, and with whose help)?
What about conflicts between Arab and Jewish cattle ranches in the Galilee over grazing land? What about Tali Fahima, a young Israeli woman of conservative (Likud) background, who wound up as a defender of a young Islamic leader from Jenin (West Bank) and served almost three years in prison because of it; her story is absolutely fascinating). And do you know that there are big battles (with significance) going on amongst students at the universities in Lebanon? And, truth be told, that is only part of what is in this 48 page magazine.

7. What about the exhibit? The Portrait Gallery and Museum of American Art's first floor is a bit chopped up, because they are preparing for a Saul Steinberg exhibit opening early in April, and have a couple of other rooms in transition as well. But I did look at the one room exhibit on Walt Whitman (1819-1892), which provided a pleasant 30 minutes or so. There is only one large oil painting, by John White Anderson, but a large number of photographs of Whitman, from when he was a young beardless man (1848), when he first came to Washington, during the Civil War Years and towards the end of his life in the 1880s. There are also some of his possessions on display, including a walking stick, a pocket watch (the name of the maker is so small, that even with my glasses I could not figure it out), and a pen of his. There are photos of three individuals whom the exhibit's director believes to have been most clearly influenced by Whitman: Alan Ginsburg, Charlie Parker and Jackson Pollack. There is a first edition of "Leaves of Grass" as well as originals of some of the illustrations in the book. There are photos of places in DC connected to Whitman, including the Pension Building where he worked (before he was fired when it was discovered that he was the author of the immoral "Leaves of Grass") and Harewood Hospital, where he worked with the wounded of the Civil War. And a photo of his house in Camden NJ.

8. Tomorrow's highlight? Jury Duty

All the News That's Fit to Print (2 cents)

From yesterday's New York Times, page 1:

The audacity of a suicide bomb attack on Tuesday at the gates of the main American base in Afghanistan during a visit by Vice President Dick Cheney underscores why President Bush sent him there.

Well, we know what they mean, I think.

But it raised the question of what would happen if something happened to Cheney. For one thing, there would probably be less of an incentive not to impeach the President.

And, under the same Constitutional provision that allowed Richard Nixon to appoint Gerald Ford as Vice President, George Bush would get to appoint someone, subject to Congressional approval.

Who would it be? Would we have our first African American female vice president??

Israel (28 cents)

Coming back from Israel, I am continually asked what the political mood was, particularly with respect to Iraq. (The fact that the questions focus on Iraq show how little the questioners understand the issues facing Israel. Iran, Palestine, Syria and Lebanon all pose greater risks to the country than Iraq)

Nevertheless, the tenor of the question is clear.

The answer is somewhat more difficult, and of course we spoke to a very small percentage of Israelis, and those with whom we spoke tended to be unrepresentative of the population in general.

Putting this aside, what struck me in Israel was that, on the one hand, if you ask people what they thought about the future of the country, they all express pessimism (i.e., the problem will continue to be unsolvable and then Iran will get the bomb).

But, if you ask them about their lives generally, or if you just look about you, you will see people who are planning for the future as if there is not a cloud in sight. They are building buildings, starting careers, getting married, having children, and so forth.

How is this dual existence possible? I guess you have to be Israeli to answer that.

Back in the U. S. of A. ($1.36)

The jet lag is not too bad. In the first day or so, here is what has happened.....

1. The Book. On the trip, I had a great time reading "The Way of All Flesh" by Samuel Butler. Written in the late 19th century, this extended coming of age story is a delight to read, and full of clever social commentary that is as appropriate now as it was then. Semi-autobiographical, they say, it tells the story of the early years of Ernest Pontifex, who started out as the moderately abused son of a conventional clergyman (being a clergyman and a good father is not possible, according to Butler), is sent to a very unpleasant English boarding school, becomes of interest to his unmarried and fairly wealthy aunt in London, who somehow winds up in Cambridge and himself becomes ordained as a clergyman, who goes on cycles of losing and gaining his faith in various ways, who enters into an unfortunate liaison with an alcoholic and already married (to Ernest's later surprise) young woman of considerable beauty but no social standing, and who becomes (of course) a writer, one whose books are always reviewed poorly in comparison with his previous book (whichever one it is at the time), which is then described as an overlooked classic. You may not like his treatment of women in the book (when he treats them at all), but you have to admire Butler's writing style, incitefullness and humor.

2. The restaurant. Yesterday, we had lunch at Thai Kitchen on M Street. We didn't think so at the time, but it was probably a mistake. We ordered Tomkha, kanom Jeeb, PadPoyZian, and Rama Jay. OK? (Actually we ordered too much, so it became lunch and dinner, but a very unsatisfactory dinner).

3. The concert. Also, a mistake. It was part of our scheduled Smithsonian Jazz concert, this one concentrating on the music (compositions and big band arrangements) of Benny Carter, who died at 96 in 2003. The first half of the concert left us both cold, so we left, thinking that the problem was probably not Benny Carter's. I found some of Benny Carter's original recordings on www.tuxjunction.net, and we confirmed our belief. Carter had an extraordinarly smooth and sweet tenor sax style; he clearly differentiated between the role of the sololist and the band. The Smithsonian band was filled with technically proficient musicians whose style did not resemble Carter's in the least, and there was little differentiation between soloist and backup; it was simply loud, with little variation in tone. At one point, the conductor (who had done some of the transcriptions) said that Carter's style was unique, but his music could, when played by others, could be equally appreciated. I agree with half of this, and I think that the fact that it was mentioned at all meant that we were not the only ones who were dissatisfied. I do not think, however, that many in the audience left when we did.

The Reduced Israel Company

Benni Fish, Roaming through Jerusalem, Israel Museum,Fish and Olives, Caesaria, Tel Aviv, Mullet at Michael's, Tiberias, Rabbi Meir, Many, many salads, Pekein-Druze Village, Shimon's cave, Cafe Masada, Michal in Modiim, Zicharon Yaakov and hike through park, Nomi's cousin's restaurant, Eretz Yisrael Museum, Museum of the Diaspora, Noa Restaurant, lunch with Miriam, window shopping on Dizengoff and Ben Yehuda.......

The Reduced Israel Company

Benni Fish, Roaming through Jerusalem, Israel Museum,Fish and Olives, Caesaria, Tel Aviv, Mullet at Michael's, Tiberias, Rabbi Meir, Many, many salads, Pekein-Druze Village, Shimon's cave, Cafe Masada, Michal in Modiim, Zicharon Yaakov and hike through park, Nomi's cousin's restaurant, Eretz Yisrael Museum, Museum of the Diaspora, Noa Restaurant, lunch with Miriam, window shopping on Dizengoff and Ben Yehuda.......

Day One - Yesterday

We had the hotel wake us at 7, which was a good thing, and we hurred through the David Citadel breakfast buffet, so that we could meet our friends at 8:45 at Yad Vashem. We made it by cab with a few minutes to spare.

We had been at Yad Vashem in 1999, although we had not toured the museum itself. We had been in the children's building and seen the eternal flame, and then went to the library to register Edie's family members who were lost during the Holocaust.

A new museum opened last year, and we were told by all who had seen it that it should not be missed. And they were right.

Yad Vashem is by and large a very solemn place. The pathways through the garden of the righteous where placques commemorate gentiles who saved Jews during the war period, the children's memorial, where five candles reflected through an infinite number of mirrors in an otherwise dark building, looking like so many stars on a clear night, and the remembrance building where the eternal flame flickers over a listing of death camps.

We can't speak to the old museum. The new museum is, in fact, extraordinary. It is underground, and is centered on a single corridor, which serves as a spine for the exhibit halls and extends, I would say, from 600 - 800 feet. You cannot walk the whole corridor, however, as it is broken up by a number of low exhibits (so that your view is not obstructed), which force you to go through the exhibit rooms on both sides of the corridor in order to proceed. The walls of the corridor are triangular, so that the top of the corridor is a line of glass windows coming to a point; there is no roof. The corridor narrows as you go along it. So, to commmorate the Shoach, you are forced underground, with no light except for the band of hope/light at the top, walking along an ever narrowing corridor.

The exhibits are extraordinary as well. Not so much for the story line (it is what you would expect), but for the amount of incredible material on display (from pre-Hitler Europe through post-Reich immigration to Israel. Nothing is left out (i.e., no subjects appear taboo).

And it is not only the objects that they have, but the amount of objective documentation of every sort. Including unlimited numbers of photographs, and a tremendous amount of movies, both original footage and survivors' testimonies.

How long would it take to absorb everything in this museum? I would guess 2 or 3 days. Would you get bored? Not for a minute.

Our guide was Nurit. It was her first Yad Vashem tour. She was terrific.

We had a quick and not very satisfactory lunch in the cafe, and then went on to the Old City. Again for Nurit's tour. The only problem was the weather, which turned very chilly, very windy and very wet. But that did not stop Nurit.

We visited the Arab market, the Cardo, the Burt House Museum, the Temple Institute and the Archeological Park.

More later.

Israel: The Trip

At the airport, the passengers waiting for Delta Flight 152 from Atlanta to Tel Aviv had a rather motley appearance. Christian tour groups, Spanish speaking teenagers, military personnel (American), religious Israelis, secular Israelis, people of all ages, and all races. Most looked like they were expecting to have a good time.

We were very lucky because, although the plane was pretty well filled, the third member of our three seat group never showed, so the two of us had room to spread out, and Edie could even lie down to sleep.

Having flown to Atlanta from Washington, we were surprised when we looked at our route to Tel Aviv to see that the plane was going to return to Washington and leave the continental U.S. in mid-Delaware. This means that, in addition to the almost two our wait in Atlanta, we would have flown a total of three hours just to get where we started. In fact, the plane went a little south of DC and crossed into the Atlantic at about Newport News, but still......

I wondered what, if any, additional security we would have in Atlanta. And, in fact,w e had to go through the metal detector twice. When we flew from DC to Atlanta, our boarding passes stayed in tact. In Atlanta, they kept half and gave us half. By mistake, I gave the gate officer (at the second security entrance) the boarding pass to get us to Atlanta, not the one to Tel Aviv. What did he do? Point out my error? Arrest me? No. All he did was say 'thank you' and let me pass. Gives you confidence, doesn't it?

What characterizes a plane to Israel? My experience says, generally, chaos, with people sitting, standing, moving around, and especially playing with their hand held baggage. Put it under the chair. Good. No, take it out and put it above the seat. Fine. No, not there, move it further back; there may be more room. OK. No, that's too far back, bring it back here. If you want. Wait a minute, I need something from the bag; bring it down. No, never mind, I don't need it. And on and on.

The flight was fine, for an eleven and one half (but who's counting?) hour flight. They fed us three times. A meal, a breakfasty snack, and a lunchy snack. At 5 a.m. EST, the religious men on the plane (surprisingly few, maybe a dozen) did Schachreit in the vestibule where the breakfasty snacks were prepared, so they got first choice. (The yogurt went fast)

Towards the end of the flight, when it was clear that I had done all the dozing I was going to do, I watched a movie, "Volver" by the Spanish director who very long name begins with an A, and is written something like Almovodar. A young girl murders her pediophilic (I thought he was my) father, and her mother hides the body in the freezer of a friend's restaurant. Meanwhile, her aunt dies, who is totally mentally and physically incompotent, but who lives by herself in a big house, where she is apparently taken care of by her (she's supposed to be) dead mother. And then it turns out that her mother isn't dead (or Russian), but that she killed in an arson set fire her husband and his mistress, who was the mother of a close friend and neighbor, who everyone thought simply disappeared. And everyone (who is alive at the end of the movie) lives happily ever after.

So, we got to Tel Aviv early. Michael met us at the airport and announced he was sick. Yorem met us at the airport to pick up the camera equipment we brought for him, and by default got to drive us into Jerusalem, which is a long ride, to our hotel (which he seemed to have some trouble finding). That was very nice.

We went out for dinner. Turing left from the David Citidel Hotel past the Skirball Museum, the King David Hotel and the YMCA and stopping at a fish/dairy restaurant called Rosemary. The Greek salad that we split would have fed the Greek Army. The Bulgarian feta on the salad was Israeli. The trout was really what I call salmon trout and was quite good, but was served with another salad, 3 to 5 baked potatoes, a cooked tomato, a cooked yellow bell pepper, and a half of a roasted onion. Enough for the Turkish army too.

That was day number one.

A Temporary Change of Direction (3 cents)

We are flying to Israel this evening (and tonight and tomorrow morning) for a 12 day visit. I will not have my computer with me, but we will be staying at hotels with business centers. I will try to keep everyone posted, although each time we have taken a trip and I have promised this, I have failed. Because I will be recapping our trip, there will be more pointed references to individuals living and dead than usual.

"The Blue Mountain"

Each of the four readers of Meir Shalev's "The Blue Mountain" who reviewed it on www.amazon.com gave it four (the maximum) stars. It is the story of a settlement in Israel's Jezreel valley, clearly not a kibbutz, perhaps a moshav, perhaps something unique in its organization. Started by four friends, three male members of the second aliyah and one woman, who marries one of the three (she marries the winner of the lottery they held for her). Others of their generations come and leave, more marriages occur, children and even grandchildren are born and die. The characters are both humorous and sad, one of a kind and universal. There is a little more fantasy in their makeup than reality.

I thought the book started very well and for the first hundred pages, I was certain that the remaining two hundred fifty would be very enjoyable. But it was (for me) to be. (For me) the book went nowhere. And, by the way it was organized (or perhaps better because it seemed to lack any form of organization--it certainly had only a semblance of chronology), it was impossible for it to go anywhere.

So, at page 150, I gave up. But not before I read the last chapter to see what happened. It was as I feared. If anything more happened, I did not care. The last chapter chapter 51, I read after chapter 27. I did not miss a beat. And at the end of the book, chronologically speaking, we were back in an earlier chapter, as if it was the present not the past, and as if the future (which I had read about as if it were the past) had not yet occurred.

Perhaps this is a four star book. But to my surprise, I didn't think so.

Cybertime (2 cents)

I am driving to work, and the car in front of me looks new, and has one of those 60 day temporary tags that says that it expires on February 29, 2007.

This is How It Goes (46 cents)

Neil Labute seems to take promising situations and turn them into a disaster. The first of his plays that I saw was "The Shape of Things", where a promising young romance turned into a menage a trois ala "Who's Afraid of Virginia Wolf?" Then, I saw "Fat Pig", about a young man who falls in love with an obese young woman, only to dump her when his friends disapprove. And dump very unceremoniously.

So, when I went to see "This is How It Goes", billed as a play based on relationships and racism, I feared the worst. I thought it a profound play, much to my surprise.

Three characters, twelve years after their high school graduation. Two (black man, white woman) are married; the third (white man), recently divorced, returns to his home town and becomes the tenant of his married friends, living in an apartment above their garage.

It gets very complicated very fast. The black male is an alpha-male, handsome, wealthy, charming, driven, goes to sleep at 2 a.m. and runs ten miles in the morning before work. The woman wants to be noticed. She is attractive, nice, but maybe not much else. The white male, who is also the narrator, speaking to the audience and setting the scenes that he is usually in, is even harder to read. He is charming, seems to have had some troubled years behind him, but makes a lot of mischief. He has always been in love with his former classmate, present landlady. And he has always resented her husband, who was a bit too-alpha for him, and who bullied him around when he, the white man, was a pudgy high schooler.

You can see the tension building. I am not going to tell you how it goes. And even, when you see the play, you may not know. The while male tells the audience at the beginning that he may not be a credible narrator. He says that truth is illusive, as it in fact always is.

Yes, racism is there, both as an assumption and an undercurrent, until it erupts, and then again recedes.

There is a lot of truth in "This is How It Goes", illusive as it may be.

Lisa Nowak

A friend of astronaut Lisa Nowak was on CNN this morning. He was a clean and articulate white guy, so he convinced me that Ms. Nowak, when she put on a diaper, a wig and a trenchcoat, and drove 900 miles from Houston to the Orlando airport with a BB-gun, folding knife and chemical spray, to accost another woman who was involved with another astronaut with whom Nowak had "more than a working, but less than a romantic" relationship, was acting out of character.

What a weird (and tragic) story. But it will be interesting to see how it plays out, and what motivated Nowak (some physical malady, some psychological problem?) to take this bizarre path.

And, contrary to the O.J. Simpson saga, at least everyone is still alive.

A good meal

I hadn't been in the restaurant at One Washington Circle (anyone guess the address?) for years, maybe decade. But I had lunch there today, meeting a friend whose office is equidistant from the hotel in a different direction.

I had salmon, served with "shaved" onions and Jerusalem artichokes. The salmon was about as good as it can be. Moist, tasty and just the right size. The onions were sweet (sweetened?). The Jerusalem artichokes were a problem, though, only because I forgot what they were. They looked like potatoes, but they didn't taste like them, so I thought maybe they were bad potatoes (bad in a unique way), and I ate about three of them, but left on the plate about 20. Had I remembered they what they were, I probably would have liked them, and eaten them.

I also had dessert (how often do I do that at lunch?). I had a lemon-orange tart of some sort. It was only so-so, and I scooped out the insides and left (after just one taste) the crust.

The espresso was perfect, but there sure wasn't much of it.

It was too expensive for lunch (I normally pay about 1/3 the price), but would I go back? For the salmon, to be sure.

The Jewish Hospital of Berlin

Several years ago, I read a book titled "Stella", written by journalist Peter Wyden, father of Oregon Senator Ron Wyden. Wyden had grown up Jewish in Berlin, moving to this country with the advent of the Nazis. One of his school mates was a very attractive, blond, Jewish girl named Stella Kubler. He had lost track of her after his move to the United States.

At some point many years after the war, he discovered that Stella was still alive in East Berlin, and that she had survived the war in Berlin acting as a 'Spitzel', a name for a Jew who was given survival preference by cooperating with the Nazis to seek out and finger other Jews in hiding in the city. Not, as you can imagine, a very well respected occupation.

The story he wrote of Stella was an important one, because it took and black-white situation and painted it gray. After all, Stella acted in part to save her parents as well as herself. It was clear that the motivation was mixed. It was also clear that Stella did not survive the war whole, that she had been internally compromised, and that in her older years, she did not present a sympathetic face to the world, and especially not to the Jewish world.

One of the interesting facets of "Stella" was the reference to Berlin's Jewish Hospital, which Wyden reported as having continued to function with Jewish staff throughout the war (and with, for a while, sheltering Stella).

The fact that the hospital continued to function in this manner (and still does today, by the way) was beyond fascinating, so when I saw a fairly recent book, "Refuge in Hell" by former CIA and NSA general counsel Daniel B. Silver, I was intrigued.

The story is indeed fascinating, and its survival (and the survival of about 800 employees and patients and prisonsers upon liberation) cannot be fully explained. But it did function, as the sole hospital for sick or injured Jews, as a prison for Jewish prisoners (some of whom needed medical care and some of whom did not) and as a collection point, like so many others. Under Gestapo control and the leadership of Dr. Dr. Walter Lustig (he had an MD and a PhD), the hospital provided medical care until liberation and, as well, became the home of the Jewish Gemeinde, the recognized Jewish community. Staffed largely but not exclusively of Jews married to Aryans, or children of mixed parentage, it and its staff had its share of troubles (including arbitrary punishments, some fatal, and forced 'selections'), but formed an unknown repository of Jewish continuity in the Prussian capital.

A very interesting book.

Dreamgirls (1 cent)

After watching Dreamgirls last night, I decided to look on the indb site and see what others thought of the movie. Obviously, it has won many awards and been nominated for others, but the reviews that I have seen (not studied, just seen) have not been all that great. So what does the reviewing public think?

Well, it is extraordinary, because the reporting viewers are completely split between those that thought it was just one of the best movies they have seen in a while, and those who thought it was an absolute waste.

It would be interesting to have some sort of a study done of these viewers, to see if those who liked shared any characteristics others with similar feelings about the movie, or whether it was all random.

I fall on the "I really like it" side. I am not sure why, but I did enjoy the music, and thought everyone did a great job. Jennifer Hudson's voice is obviously extraordinary, but there was not one miscasting or subpar performance in the entire cast. Even those who didn't like the movie thought that Eddie Murphy was great, which he was, and no one (for reasons unknown to me) complimented or even mentioned Danny Glover, who I thought was terrific.

It makes you realize how things have changed from the days when it was hard to find experienced African American actors. This is one extraordinary talented and, as Senator Biden would have it, articulate cast.

Is "Nine to Five" the worst movie ever?

Having just seen it, I believe the answer is definitely 'yes'.

Lena Pillars

Along the Lena River, south of Yakutsk.

Huh??

Oops

Several months ago, I attended a fascinating lecture/book signing by Timothy Naftali, the new director of the Nixon Presidential Library. Held at the Spy Museum, he spoke about his new book, Khrushchev's Cold War, which he co-authored with Russian historian Aleksandr Fursenko. Based on newly released Kremlin archives, it told the story of the Kennedy-Khrushchev years from the Russian point of view, purporting to unravel what was really in the minds of the Soviet leaders, how they were misunderstanding us and how we were misunderstanding them. It was fascinating.

Today, I decided to go back to the Spy Museum for another booksigning lecture, this time about preparation for the invasion of North Africa by the Allies in 1942.

Much to my surprise, then, when I opened the Washington Post this morning, and found a review of the Khrushchev book. And much to my surprise, the review, by Michael Dobbs of the U.S. Institute of Peace who is writing a book about the same time period, was scathing.

Basically, although the Naftali book contained much new information (some from sources since re-closed), Dobbs claims that the book is short on accuracy. Very short on accuracy. He points out serious factual discrepencies between this book and a previous book by Naftali (for example, one individual was a Captain in one book and a Colonel in another, when he was in fact a Major; then there was an incident which one books tells of involving four submarines and the other book two submarines, but none of the ships are the same in both books). He also points out serious problems in the Russian material (Fursenko's responsibility) based on published versions and translations of some of the source material.

The problems were so widespread that the Post authorized Dobbs to contact the authors, something rarely done by reviewers. And, in fact, Naftali both admitted some mistakes and implied that he was unable to check the facts given him by Fursenko. Fursenko was less forthcoming.

This shows what happens when you collaborate with someone without sufficient safeguards, I guess. It may be a particular problem in dealing with Russian historians who were formerly part of the old Soviet intelligentsia.

Let's hope that "12 Apostles" does not suffer from the same deficiencies. Paris based American journalist Hal Vaughan narrated an interesting story, basically as follows:

FDR decided as early as 1940 that the U.S. would have to enter the war in Europe, and that this would be done first by wresting north Africa out of Axis hands, and then moving onto the European continent. In order to prepare the way, and to keep his preparation secret both from Congress and the American public, he recruited twelve individuals, working under the supervision of diplomat Robert Murphy, who under the guise of being involved in govenment regulation of American shipping, were able to map the country (we are talking about Morocco, Algeria and Tunisia) and set up clandestine partisan groups ready to spring into action, their goal being freeing France (all three countries were under French domination) from Vichy control.

The plans were successful, paving the way for the landing of British troops in Algeria and Americans in Morocco under Eisenhower, but everything did not go by clockwork. At times, it appeared that everything would backfire. People were approached who should not have been. Communications broke down. The landing forces were delayed. Problem upon problem, but all worked out for the best (assuming an invasion that cost life upon life could be looked upon as having worked out for the best)

The crowd was not very large (the topic? the weather?), and I am not sure how many books were sold. Vaughan told the story so well, that I decided whateverelse was in the book would not remain in my memory in any event.

It was certain a worthwhile hour. One more story about which I knew absolutely nothing.