Signs of Our Times

 It's no accident that we often hear our current times described as dystopic.  Just look around.  On a daily basis, we see tent cities near most freeway exits, overpasses, and on-ramps.  The number of mental health crises on display as we go through our everyday routines seems to be increasing.  Gun violence is setting new records and fear permeates everyday decisions like going out at night or driving somewhere new.  

In my neighborhood, a slew of businesses have gone out of business.  Consequently, the look of a ghost town prevails.  Depression best describes the nature of the economy as well as the population.  

Still, there are reasons to feel better.  In times of social change and upheaval, some people respond with their best.  While the decline in democratic values has mesmerized the country, and progressive ideas continue to be repealed by the Supreme  Court, the resistance grows and people find ways to be optimistic about the future.  We have to.  The alternative offers nothing.  

This morning, while on my walk I noticed a sign in the window of a barbershop.  While at first amusing, I realized it represented a form of progress as well.  The amusement came when I found myself wondering if racism was tolerated at a reasonable distance, just now within ten feet.  Of course,
I'm being silly here, but the way the message presented itself, it gave one pause.

Cool Like That

 I like films and TV series that are period pieces.  I'm especially fond of the attention to detail that usually accompanies these shows.  It's fascinating to see the breakfast cereals of the 1950s or hear expressions that were popular in the 1930s or even as far back as the 1830s.

I remember a film professor once saying that period pieces are as much about the present day as they are about the period in which they are set.  In ancient Greece or Rome is the setting, it's fascinating to see the hairstyles or the clothing and determine if anything of current value has slipped through the creators or the art designers of the film.  

So it was while watching the PBS series Hotel Portofino, something recently came to attention.  This is a wonderful series set in Italy in the late 1920s and early 1930s about a beautiful hotel run by and largely for British folks.  Of course in this post-WWI period, the rise of Mussolini is paramount as well as the general zeitgeist of the era.  

In one scene I recently saw, a gentleman is asked how he manages to keep calm throughout a recent tumultuous episode. He responds using the phrase. "I keep my cool."  Immediately, red lights started blinking in my head.  Would that expression have been used in that time period?  Now I know that very few people care about this but I was determined to find out.  

My research traced the expression to the 1950s, where I would have guessed it belonged.  That's because it was the era of 'cool" jazz, so it figures the term might have entered the popular vernacular. But there was mention of expressions like losing one's "cool reserve" or "cool head" that were in use earlier.  Apparently, the term was shortened to just losing one's cool a couple of decades later.  OK, what, if anything does this mean?  Probably nothing, but I'm curious if they don't have people who give a critical reading of scripts for period pieces so they can pick up these inconsistencies.  If not, I might just have created a new job for myself.  

Ode To A Tacoma

 I wanted to write an ode for my truck,

   The truck I sold after 20 years,

Can you do that?

   Do Tacoma’s even know they are loved.

I was going to thank the forest green Prerunner for

Being there on solo fishing trips where forest roads

are rough and feared.

For starting while frozen and attempting the snow,

The truck that shared my smiles at landing the first

Brown trout or 15-inch rainbow.

The truck that moved me out of my classroom, and

The new to another state. Records, books, fly rods all

Safely stored. 

I hope your next owner will appreciate your beauty and

Integrity. Long may you run.

Pity The Nation

 

We celebrated the nation’s birthday with a mass shooting this year. How fitting. A young man decided to fire on a 4th of July parade.  The Ferlinghetti poem that follows seems to fog the occasion better than a concert of military marches or a star-spangled troupe of entertainers. Certainly, given the circumstances, fireworks would be inappropriate.