Daily Blues & Views

There is an adage that has served me well whenever I find myself faced with a thought dilemma.  The kind of conundrum that has me wondering about the consequences of an important decision or asking the question, "How can I begin to make sense of this?" What I do is follow some simple advice: what do the finest minds, in your view, have to say about this?  Seek out the ideas of those you respect the most and try to find out what their perspectives teach you. We all know that there is a palpable fear running through this country right now?  Despite our attempts at unity, we are a hugely divided nation that seems to be resting on the brink of disaster.  All the signs are there.  Things are not going well.  Life is tough and tougher.  If ever there were to be a second Civil in this country, this is the time. I don't need to run down the list of circumstances and realities, the improbable cast of characters.  The daily stream of violence and savager...

I'm in a dream.  But I'm not.  It's always that way when I return to the Bay Area and try to negotiate my old, once familiar haunts.  The roads have changed; they are configured differently in many places.  Just going from one to another confronts me with choices and risks I didn't know I had.  Try to enjoy the moment I keep telling myself. Enjoyment comes in the form of finding a shady place with a plastic chair and a cement shelf on which to rest my cup of Peet's coffee.  Street musicians have upped their game here.  What would pass for a "homeless" man in some cities has a sophisticated sound system that sends the background music to everyone from Marvin Gaye to Sinatra wafting over the cloudless sky.  He sings his heart out.  A real latter-day Mel Torme, he forms the backdrop for aging skateboarders, all manner of I-Phone fiddlers, and those who run errands or walk dogs or simply rush around the gentrified park they inhabit. ...

The two ideas in one sentence are problematic, to say the least.  Like good and evil, or elation and depression, there is a relationship.  But honestly, how does the sound of a "Reparations Happy Hour" sound to you? This is the recent brainchild of some political activists in Portland.  Portland, Or you may recall, is the place that was once called, "where 20 somethings go to retire."  But, in reality, in Portland, all things are possible. The idea was simple.  You ask white folks to contribute $10. and then stage a Happy Hour for black folks where they can get together knowing that enough, or maybe some... white people care about recognizing the evils and far-reaching consequences of slavery on the black community to want to do something other than talk about the idea. Sounds preposterous, sounds amiss, or even ridiculous, yet this is exactly what came about recently in "the city that cares."* It hasn't been an overwhelming success but these th...

50 years ago it was 1968.  Arguably one of the most difficult years for this young nation, 1968 had the feeling of a malaise settling over the country.  Some would say it is not uncommon to what people are feeling today with the likes of Donald Trump in the White House. In 1968 I was 21, and completing my Junior year in college.  On that June Tuesday in '68 when Californians went to the polls, I had a final exam in a class on political philosophy.  I wrote my Blue Book exam on the theories expressed in a book called The Radical Liberal. The author was my professor at UCLA that year, Arnold S. Kaufmann.  It was all so contemporary. Comparing the ideas of Eugene McCarthy and Robert Kennedy was rewarding, even for a 3- hour exam.  What was far less worthwhile was the fact that I went home only to watch the assassination of Robert Kennedy shortly after he was declared the winner of the California primary. I was in McCarthy's camp prior to that...