Call To The Post

I hear the calls.  I feel the anger and frustration.  The storm clouds rain down for a good while and then lift.  But back come the calls, the patience wears thin.  We may not be able to wait this one out.  This time the opposition is fierce.

People have had enough of horse racing.  Too many deaths in the last year.  Almost 40 at Santa Anita alone.  "The Great Race Place" is fast becoming the great wasteland.
I'm unabashed.  I love horse racing.  Like horses, themselves, it has been an important part of my life an experience.  The recent rash of break-downs and controversial decisions are all part of the sport.  They always have been.  Somehow the media attention that currently swirls around the coverage of the sport has become a vicious vulture with talons ready to sink deeply.
I'm worried for the industry, but mostly because the image portrayed is not always fair and impartial.  Having been a correspondent for a national thoroughbred magazine...having had access to the backstretch (barn area) and having met, interviewed and become friends with some of the major players, I know there is another side.
I know what I know.

Yes, the recent spate of training and racing injuries and deaths is disturbing.  Yes, there are reasons and reforms that can and are being put in place.  most importantly, the industry itself must take up the banner and educate the public because there is not only too much to lose, there is no other way that the half-truths, stereotypes, and incorrect assumptions will be squared away with the reality.
If we look at the injury and fatality rates connected with other sports like football, boxing, and even skiing, we'll see that those connected with racing are not near the amount.  Yet no calls for banning pro football or skiing.  That will never happen.  People like to insinuate that horses are ill cared for and that racing surfaces are mostly unsafe.  It's an easy target because the popularity of the sport has waned and the public relies on short, hard-hitting summaries of the latest news.
Horsemen, most of them, really care about the equine athletes under their care.  Many of the folks in the barn area at any track were born into the sport.  There are, of course, exceptions, but a love of horses usually accompanies a person who begins the day at 4:30 or 5:00am and puts in long hours managing a stable.  It's the kind of profession that you have to love or you won't last long.
The horse racing industry employs thousands and any rash judgment about ending the sport would put so many people out of work at a time when the economic future of this country is so volatile.
In a country that is so diverse and so polarized, horse racing has the possibility of uniting disparate factions.  Much like the campaign of Seabiscuit in the Depression era, the country can and loves to come together to root on a Triple Crown champ or an exceptional athlete that has grabbed their attention.
Now, there is a downside that needs to be addressed too.  Next Post.

Sixteen Nineteen

I am watching the response to the New York Times 1619 Project carefully.  This project is centered around a supplement magazine being widely distributed around the country right now.  In some circles, it is regarded as a keepsake, a valuable possession, an heirloom.
As this country grapples with the issue of reparations for African Americans,  it has become abundantly clear that many of us know very little about our own history.  There is some vague sense that slavery was wrong and that it had consequences being felt today, but in the area of specifics, as a nation, we are deficient.

I knew I wanted to be a history early on.  It was secure employment, something not always counted on in the house in which I grew up.  My father was a casualty of the Great Depression, having to drop out of college and support his new wife in the early 1930s.  I loved many of my teachers, especially my history teachers, so it was natural for me to pursue the goal of teaching.
What I couldn't see coming was an incredible era of Afro-centrist culture coming in the late 60s.  That era featured the advent of ethnic studies classes in many colleges and universities.
At UCLA, they were called "Negro History" and taught by Ron Takaki, a Japanese American professor that was Harvard educated.  Takaki's classes were extremely popular and I was extremely fortunate to be in these first ethnic studies courses.
It wasn't long before I learned how deficient my own high school history textbooks had been.  The reason for that is another topic altogether, but these courses and some others on Racial Attitudes and Black Literature were watershed experiences.
In my first 10 years of teaching, I inherited an ethnic studies program from my "Master teacher" and had the singular experience of teaching history courses that were predominately African American.  I was able to convince my students that my qualifications were earned by my college background.  Letting them know that NBA great Kareem Abdul Jabbar was also on my classes didn't hurt either.
A beautiful atmosphere of mutual respect followed.  Of course, there were tough days but mostly my students know that this was something special and there was much to learn.
Those classes ran their course and eventually, the need for ethnic studies classes was deemed no longer important.  Perhaps that is why we find ourselves where we are.  Ignorant, for the most part, of our own history.

Rescue Me

Last week we marked the passing of Cokie Roberts, one of the "founding mothers" of National Public Radio.  Cokie was a living metaphor for honesty and integrity in political journalism and it's no wonder the tributes have been pouring in all week.  Of course this is all set in vivid relief by the current state of affairs and the relationship of the current occupant of the White House with the press corps.  In many ways we seem to be marking the passing of civility along with integrity.
Cokie Roberts interpreted the the news in a way that was free of bias and represented the product of hard work, good contacts, and a lifelong commitment to accuracy.  No wonder so many followed her stories and came to depend on her for their political news.

At the risk of being called a name dropper, I have a story to tell  the day I crossed paths with Cokie and her well-known news partner Linda Wertheimer.
A colleague of mine once served as the Director of the National Council for the Social Studies.  When their national conference was held in San Francisco some years ago, my friend was in charge of the whole shebang.  I volunteered to assist.  He promised to get back to me.  A few days before the event was to start he called.  "I've got the best job reserved for you," he said.  "Only thing is, you might have to share it with someone."
"No problem," I said.  "What do you want me to do?"
The task in question was to ride in a limo t the SF airport to meet the Keynote speakers for the conference and accompany them back to the hotel which was the conference site.  Easy enough, I thought.  Who are the speakers?
"Cokie Roberts and Linda Wertheimer from NPR."
No wonder this was such a coveted job.
On the appointed day, I met my fellow council member and together we found the limo driver and headed to the airport.  We knew who we were looking for, but when they emerged from the skyway they were almost unrecognizable because of the Levis and cowboy boots they wore.
After we settled in the limo and began to work our way to the conference site, Cokie took out a newspaper and ever the news reporter, asked, So what's new in San Francisco?"
Glancing at the front page of the Chronicle she had on her lap I related the story that seemed to capture the attention of everyone that morning.  And, a bizarre story it was.  A very San Francisco story.
It seems that in one of the topless clubs on Broadway in North Beach there had been a rescue.  Apparently a couple did an act on top of a piano that rose up and down during their performance.  Unfortunately, the piano got stuck and one of the occupant/"dancers"  was pinned against the ceiling.  The SF Fire Department came to the rescue and freed the couple much t the delight of the patrons and the club owner.  The SF Chronicle writers had a good time with the story, and it made the front page of the Chronicle that day.  I'd heard a description on the morning news so was able to explain the strange occurrence a bit more in detail.  Cokie and Linda enjoyed a good laugh and threw out a clever line or two that now escape me.  All nervousness vanished for everybody.
As promised, I met them at their room and escorted them to their speaking engagement. By that time they'd changed into professional clothing and looked smashing.  They enjoyed a standing ovation and were on a plane back to Washington DC before sundown. 
I was able t exchange business cards with Cokie who seemed genuinely interested in my budding radio career producing documentaries.  I don't think I've ridden in a limo since that day.

A Good Rise

"...I am interested in making a good case for distortion, as I am coming to believe it is the only way to make people see..."
                                 Flannery O'Connor

The above quote is mostly attributed to Flannery O'Connor, one of our culture's most influential and outstanding writers.  The diminutive Southern woman was a devout Catholic and suffered the pain that comes with Lupis, the difficult disease.  No wonder, many say, that her short stories are laced with all manner of violent and insufferable scenes and people.
Distortion, especially in this day and age, attracts attention.  To manipulate that attraction in the interest of advancing positive and humane ideas is possibly pure genius.  "First," as the old joke about the farmer who struck his mule goes, "you get his attention."
It was with this idea in mind that I watched the first episode of a new fantasy series called "Carnival Row."

I must admit in the first few minutes I reacted the way I typically do to many productions that rely on fantasy.  I'm into historical detail and a serious message.  The responsibility of the storyteller is to say something.  Something worthwhile in my book.  When a young pixie looking woman was running from some unknown army firing at her she suddenly sprung wings and flew away.  I almost gave up right then, but there was something about the look and feel of this new series that kept me watching.  A few minutes later I got it.  I realized what was going on.  This fantasy world was a symbolic representation of the divided, racist, phobic world we currently occupy.  Only the names have been changed but the discriminated and the discriminators are all there.  The show has something to say about immigration, islamophobia, and intolerance.  The distortion is where the fantasy intersects with the goal of making people see.
In one scene, one of the wing-endowed pixie women, who works as a prostitute to survive, is shown with one of her "clients."   In the middle of a passionate embrace, she deploys her wings creating a most unique climax to this scene.  It certainly gives new meaning to the term "flying fu..k."
It will be fascinating to see where this series goes and where the parallels lead.