The Data Port

Two weekkends remain in which to see the Rogue Theatre’s edgy and quite wonderful production of Edward Albee’s “A Delicate Balance.” I say “edgy’ advisedly because, like all of Albee’s plays, the audience recognizes something of themselves in his characters…and often that ‘something’ is something scary.

The audience laughs, but it is always a laughter of nervous recognition.

Kathleen Allen’s review in the Star will put you in the picture. You want Family Values? The Rogue shows you family values.

Visit The Rogue Theatre’s web site for tickets and information about the season. (click)

The Data Port

As Harry Reid struggles to bring a preliminary vote on health care reform to the Senate we can expect to hear the usual sanctimonious whining from the Republicans and conservative Democrats about the “unconscionable” costs that will be passed on to our tousle-headed grandchildren.

We’ll be passing on decent health care, too, but never mind about that. What is truly unconscionable is the money that we have wasted on the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan: Well over 933 billion dollars, with no end in sight.*

And what did we get out of those wars? Nothing, nada, zip. Didn’t catch Osama bin Laden, didn’t get Iraqi oil, and certainly didn’t insure social peace in either Iraq or Afghanistan. We should have spent that 933 Billion on our own health care.

We can’t recapture the money we’ve spent, and we can’t make whole our over 4000 dead and 30,000 wounded. What we can try to do is learn from our failures. Let’s admit that our program (whatever it was, or is, or is redefined to be) hasn’t worked, and  stop throwing good money after bad.

It’s time to get out of Afghanistan and Iraq.

*Data Source

Siegfried Sassoon

Finished with the War

A Soldier’s Declaration

I am making this statement as an act of willful defiance of military authority, because I believe the war is being deliberately prolonged by those who have the power to end it.

I am a soldier, convinced that I am acting on behalf of soldiers. I believe that this war, upon which I entered as a war of defence and liberation, has now become a war of aggression and conquest. I believe that the purposes for which I and my fellow soldiers entered upon this war should have been so clearly stated as to have made it impossible to change them, and that, had this been done, the objects which actuated us would now be attainable by negotiation.

I have seen and endured the suffering of the troops, and I can no longer be a party to prolong these sufferings for ends which I believe evil and unjust.

I am not protesting against the conduct of the war, but against the political errors and insincerities for which the fighting men are being sacrificed.

On behalf of those who are suffering now I make this protest against the deception which is being practiced on them; also I believe that I may help to destroy the callous complacence with which the majority of those at home regard the continuance of agonies which they do not share, and which they have not sufficient imagination to realize

S. Sassoon

July 1917

After his protest was published Sassoon was sent to a mental hospital to be treated for “shell shock.” He was an officer, wounded twice and twice decorated for bravery. He survived the war and died in 1967.

11th Hour, 11th Day, 11th Month

It was the “War to End War” and it was the war to “Make the World Safe for Democracy.” It ended at eleven o’clock in the morning on the eleventh day of November in 1918.

Until wars to come transformed Armistice Day into Veterans Day, Americans across the nation stopped whatever they were doing—in businesses, or stores, or schools—at eleven o’clock and observed a minute of silence. I remember one Armistice day when I was in Chicago’s Marshall Fields department store with my mother. A bell rang and the whole great building hushed and was still.

I have always thought that moment of silence was a fitting way to honor sacrifice and express a devotion to peace. Our parades and celebrations are certainly fitting and proper… but wouldn’t it be wonderful if once again at eleven o’clock in the morning that great and reverential quiet could roll across the country.

Star To Charge 39 Bucks for TV Listings

I sorted through my Sunday paper this morning looking for the new TV Week. Couldn’t find it.

Well no wonder…it wasn’t there. What was there was magazine-sized offering called ON TV Magazine.* The price on the cover was $2.99, but as a special deal for me, because I was a Star subscriber, I could buy a year’s subscription for 39 bucks.

Apparently I have 3 trial issues left. After which, what?

That’s not perfectly clear. Is the star going to carry any TV listings as a free service to subscribers? I wrote the Star’s Executive Editor for clarification, but it’s Sunday so I haven’t received a reply.

I’m certainly not going to pay the 39 bucks. One of the reasons I subscribed to the Star was to get the Sunday TV listings. Since the Star is foolish enough to offer itself on line for free I might just cancel my subscription to the dead tree edition.

Are they shooting themselves in the foot here? Let’s hear from you.

*Lots of tiny type. If you’re over forty keep your reading glasses or a magnifier handy.

Unhealthy America

Nicholas Kristof, in a November 4 New York Times column, writes,

The moment of truth for health care is at hand, and the distortion that gets the most traction is this:

We have the greatest health care system in the world. Sure, it has flaws, but it saves lives in ways that other countries can only dream of. Abroad, people sit on waiting lists for months, so why should we squander billions of dollars to mess with a system that is the envy of the world? As Senator Richard Shelby of Alabama puts it, President Obama’s plans amount to “the first step in destroying the best health care system the world has ever known.”

That self-aggrandizing delusion may be the single greatest myth in the health care debate. In fact, America’s health care system is worse than Slov—er, oops, more on that later.

Envy of the world? Not hardly. Kristof goes on to cite the statistics (and their sources) to demonstrate that this delusional belief is just that…a delusion.

The House has taken the first step toward a modest reform opposed, as always, by all but one Republican and a clutch of conservative Democrats.

Kristof’s column is here.

Noise!

Has anyone noticed how noisy America has become?

Noise raises your level of tension, rubs against your nerves, distracts and annoys. This noise is not just the mechanical grating and screeching of machinery at work, it’s any and all of the hundreds of ways your attention is demanded and your time imposed upon. It’s shrieking public discourse.

There are beepers and cell phones, the irritated honking of car horns, television sets left on but not attended to, telephone solicitors, car radios, leaf blowers, car alarms, and in every public space where people gather to visit during a pause in the day’s activities the decibel levels of human voices rise as we try to be heard over the thoughtfully provided music that none of us is listening to and none of us want.

Much of this noise we impose on ourselves. Walkers, joggers, bicyclists, folks waiting for busses, even people waiting for a movie to start are plugged in and turned on to their radios. As a nation we seem increasingly unable to be alone with the contents of our own minds.

The truth is that this noise is not merely sound, but something like psychological static…conflicting messages that pour in to swamp our nervous systems.

Radio and television daily bring us news of fresh disasters or, more correctly, more news of the same disasters, with no hint of how we might avoid them. Some wag called this “all terrorism all the time newscasting” and it ratchets up our levels of tension and anxiety.

As we enter the season of Winter Festivals, our personal calendars will fill with  activities and obligations. We’ll struggle to bridge the gaps in our connections with friends and family by shopping our way though crowded malls and stores. Newspapers will fill with ads that suggest presents are the only way to be present to the others in our lives.

It’s time to say “no” to noise.

Turn off your television set, the kids’ television sets, and all the radios in your house for a week. Let the daily papers pile up unread, don’t answer your phone after six o’clock at night. Trust me on this, you’ll miss nothing and a kind of peace will settle over your household.

Turn off your computers and video games. Movies won’t be any worse for not having been seen for a few days.

Above all don’t shop. The various Winter Festivals…apart from their religious significance…are essentially for kids. Buy something for the little ones but give up gift giving to adults, it generally turns out to be an expensive pain in the neck… and you won’t have to return stuff that doesn’t fit.

Instead, hunt for the slower rhythms in your life. Read a book, bake cookies, listen to the wind, write a letter to a friend, tell someone you love that you love them.

Take a walk.

Winning The Lottery

It’s a game we all play: What would you do if you won the lottery? Won big, won so big that you could frame your life any way you chose?

Except in the  way I am about to tell you I don’t believe my life would change too significantly…or say, rather, that I would not initiate great changes. I like my home and think I would keep living in it. I enjoy household chores, fixing things, and working on the bikes. Oh, I might hire the occasional handyman or housecleaner, but apart from that I can imagine my life grinding on pretty much as it does now.

I might buy another motorcycle, but we have two already and motorcycles can only be enjoyed one at a time.

Whenever the what-would-you-do-if-you-won-the-lottery question is asked I think of my father’s friend Harvey Hayes. When my father was a young actor Harvey was an old one. He lived in a bed-sitter in Chicago’s South Shore Country Club. My father took me to visit Mr. Hayes once (I sat quietly while they rehearsed a scene together) and I can remember being fascinated by the fact that he didn’t have a kitchen.

He had a sort of pantry with a small sink and a fridge, but he clearly never cooked. I asked him what he did for meals…his situation was now riveting…and he replied, “Well, young Arthur, I go to restaurants. I’m an actor, not a cook.”

That answer had a more profound effect on me than I suspected at the time.

If I won the lottery I would never cook again. I simply loathe cooking. I know it’s supposed to be creative and satisfying and all that, but I simply hate it. I dislike having to prepare a dinner for guests and getting all the courses to come out at the right time. I hate scrubbing up afterwards.

I would much rather treat my guests to a nice meal at an excellent restaurant. I could afford it if I had won the lottery.

Oh, I might have a small pantry kitchen like Mr. Hayes, where I could keep some bread and peanut butter or a box of orange juice… something I could eat at the sink when I got peckish… but for the most part I would eat all my meals out.

At my favorite places I would be well known. As a regular I could ask for special service…”I’m not very hungry tonight, do you suppose the chef could do a plate of sliced tomatoes and romaine, with some nicely buttered sourdough toast?” Well of course…because I was a regular who had won the lottery and always tipped well.

And I would never cook again.

Melvin Sees Atoms in Arizona's Future

While we’re waiting to learn the outcome of today’s voting, lets look ahead to 2010 to see what some of the campaign themes in LD 26 might be.

Incumbent Republican State Senator Al Melvin has just been appointed Co-Chairman of the Ad Hoc Committee on Energy and Water. It’s not hard to imagine he’ll be mining that assignment for campaign issues in his re-election campaign.

Melvin believes Arizona’s future lies in becoming a major energy exporter. According to his most recent update we’ll generate thousands of jobs in Arizona. How?

“If Arizona can become the most atomic energy friendly state in the Union, Arizona can become one of the richest states in the USA.”

I assume this means something more than just sending little friendship notes to the one atomic energy plant we already have. I suppose we’ll have to build at least one more, just to prove how atomic friendly we are.

We can augment state income by building a spent fuel rod disposal facility under some of the open land up in Pinal County.

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Foothills voters storm polls?

The Data Port’s resident writers rolled out of bed this morning and hustled off to Orange Grove School to beat the crowds expected to turn up for the exciting bond vote.

Waiting To Vote

The Rush to Vote Was On

At the entrance to the polling place we noticed there were signs indicating a limit of 75 pies, which would have been more than we could eat that early in the morning. It didn’t matter, though, because we didn’t see anyone selling pies.

A Rite of Passage

There was a time…at least so it was in Chicago…that going to the fights was as much a rite of passage as getting laid, or being able to smoke without hiding your cigarettes.

A father would come home and tell mom that he and a couple of the boys were going to the fights that night and he thought he’d take the kid, if he wanted to go. Did the kid want to go? You bet. This was an invitation into man’s estate. Tonight he wouldn’t be a kid, he’d be one of the boys.

These were usually club fights, held in smoky social halls or neighborhood auditoriums, with fighters on their way up or their way down. There weren’t many women at these fights, at least not “nice” women. No one’s mother, no one’s sheltered sister, went to the fights.

Your father’s friends might offer you a cigarette, or a seegar and a beer, and your father would look the other way and you’d try to smoke the one and drink the other without disgracing yourself.

That sort of thing made you a boxing fan for life.