Over the course of my life, I have come up with a number of thoughts and observations that I have always wanted to memorialize and share. Most of these, I suppose are advice, yet I always harken back to Baz Luhrmann when evaluating advice:

“Be careful whose advice you buy but be patient with those who supply it
Advice is a form of nostalgia, dispensing it is a way of fishing the past
From the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts
And recycling it for more than it’s worth.”

Sunscreen Song 1999

No advice or observation is completely original. We all, consciously or perhaps subconsciously borrow from the thoughts of others who came before us. Having said that, some thoughts to share for better or worse (I give credit on a few that are honestly not mine, which I use all the time) …

“Hang out with people who make you better. If the people you hang out with don’t make you better, find new people to hang out with.”

“Nothing quite says health like the cigarette smoking bicyclist, nothing quite says femininity like the bearded man trying to look like a woman (think New Seasons), and nothing quite says futility like the pony tailed balding guy.”

“Men start to look like women and women start to look like men as they age” (not all but enough to call it a trend)

“When using cocaine, you think the word is in awe of you. When smoking marijuana, you are in awe of the world.” (Lesson from my distant past)

“You don’t find your passions, your passions find you.”

“Guys rag on one another face to face as a bonding exercise, women rag on other women not present as a bonding exercise.”

“Ask ten people their opinion on something related to financial markets. If the vast majority expect something to happen, expect the opposite.”

“Do something nice for another person a least once every day, preferably when no one is watching.”

“When it come to watches, one word, Swiss.”

When it comes to cars, one word, German.” OK Italian has to be included as well.” (My good friend Scott Waszak would never forgive me if not the exception)

“Linger. In all you do, never forget to linger, and enjoy the moment.”

“Declare war on the urge to hurry as soon as possible. You won’t understand this until it is too late.”

“Some of the smartest people I’ve met in my life say I don’t know often and some of the dumbest people I have met say I don’t know rarely.”

“Great ideas are plentiful, great execution of a great idea is rare. An average idea with great execution will beat a great idea with poor execution every time.”

“There is such a thing as being too smart.” Leads to paralysis through analysis.” There is no perfect moment to pull the trigger in life. Sometimes A Random Moment will have to do.”

“Some of the bravest people I have ever met experience fear. They just don’t let fear get in the way of what needs to be done.”

“Dogs seem to like people of good character.”

“Fast animals in nature never need to stretch.”

“The best gatherings I’ve experienced in my life are small intimate groups. The more people involved, the less likelihood of a treasured experience.”

“You can’t lead if you don’t read.”

“As a parent, you are only as happy as your least happy child.” (Credit to good friend Ray C. Pittman Jr.)

“All investing follows three distinct cycles, Fear, Greed, Speculation, (and then Repeat.)” You should be a buyer in the first cycle (few are), and a seller in the last (few are). Only way to achieve success in this strategy is a willingness to be early. Much easier said than done.”

“As one ages there is nothing more important than retaining relevance. The second you become irrelevant, you begin the process of death. Stay relevant.”

“Best indicator I have ever seen for the health of the economy is trucking. As goes trucking, so goes the economy.”

“If you are the biggest / largest character in your life’s story, you exist in an exceedingly small story.”

“God has created majesty and grandeur all around, revel in it and let it be a reminder to be humble and giving.”

“The best times we have had in this country were when men weren’t afraid to be men, and women weren’t afraid to be women. We now live in a world where more and more men act like women, and more and more women act like men.”

“Mind, body, and soul… I have met lots of people who excel in one, a few who excel in two, and virtually none that excel in all three. Soul is the most important and obviously the most difficult. Shoot for all three.”

“A sunny day and/or a good night’s sleep seem to make most problems seem less dire.”

“One teaspoon of caffeine is about right, and yet, one tablespoon can kill a person, let that be a reminder that too much of (even) a good thing is almost always a bad thing.”

 “Misery + Time = Humor. (Not always of course but often)”

“Good wine and a good haircut have a lot in common as to their ability to renew one’s spirit.”

“Lots of Lots, Damn Dams, Peace Piece, Weak Week, Are Our, Rain Reigns and Fair Fare. Isn’t language fun.”

“Worry about what you can do rather than what you can’t do.” We were all legends in our own mind at one time; remember, Father Time is undefeated and untied.”

“In life you’ll find that everyone is screwed up, the only question is to what degree.” (Credit to Ken Cook)

“Everything I own is for sale. All a matter of price and timing.” (Credit to Ken Cook).

“At one time the world was composed of those who Pray, those who Fight, and those who Farm.” Things haven’t changed much despite our efforts to deceive ourselves. Salvation, Security, and Sustenance are the three S’s that will Never become less important despite modern efforts to believe otherwise.”

“In business, once you give someone something, it can never be taken away without huge ramifications.” (Credit to Burt Wittenburg)

“In business unlike life, committees are useless, benevolent dictatorships are useful.”

“Entrepreneurs are special, workers are indispensable. As true as the sun rising in the East tomorrow morning. Attack these people at your peril as a country. We should do all in our power to encourage their efforts.”

“When you run a race, the fastest people win. Engineering a different result is as stupid as it sounds, and yet liberal politics are often guilty of striving to achieve said stupidity.”

“As an athlete during my life, I always hated losing more than I loved winning. Not sure what that means, yet it is something to think about. Something tells me the inverse is better.”

“Abortion in the third trimester and beyond (except in the rarest of circumstances) crosses a line that NO human being should be willing to cross (hate to be overly political but this has to be said). If you are willing to cross that line, there are really no words I can offer.”

“Wherever YOU are, there YOU are. A change in geography doesn’t necessarily lead to a change in psychology.”

“Think of your life like a large glass of clear, beautiful water. Eventually bad things (think drops of oil) are added to your cup. Sometimes and in fact often, there is no way to extract the oil (bad) from the water (good). Simply a fact of life… What you can always do is add more water. Dilution is a great technique to deal with life’s pollution in it’s many forms.”

“As an investor, I love dividends. I get paid to be wrong until I’m right. Stick with quality however.”

I do expect to add to this over the years. Hopefully, this is a good start. Thank you to all who have influenced me over the years, there have been many.

Thanks for reading.

Thomas M. Cook

7/1/21

Sometimes you experience something that is truly inspirational, when and where you least expect it. Unfortunately, that inspiration stays with us for awhile and then it is forgotten. Perhaps we share the insight with a few friends and family and then we move on in our “what’s next”, instant gratification society. Again, that is a shame as I feel it would be far better to linger in the moment psychologically and commit oneself to remembering the revelation in a similar fashion as to how we remember birthdays and anniversaries. By choosing to write about it, it is my hope that I will not forget it, and hopefully inspire a few to share the perception.

I wasn’t looking for inspiration and epiphany as I made my routine trip to the local Trader Joe’s a couple days ago. As a matter of fact, I have come to somewhat resent the Woke Culture nature of the TJ’s even though I very much enjoy many of the employees and the overall unique, cool vibe of the store. Keep the Cool, lose the Woke (story for another day). I had seen this young female employee many times before and I have always been pretty amazed by her cheerfulness and upbeat demeanor. That, in and of itself, is noteworthy, but certainly not the kind of thing that would inspire me to write about it. I had seen her stocking shelves and performing other various tasks around the store, but I had never seen her work behind the register. You see, this young woman has one good arm and another that is a “half arm” at best. I couldn’t help but watch her closely as she managed to create double bags, pack my items, load them in a cart, and work the register with a speed and efficiency that matched her fellow co-workers (and surpassed several). Astounding. And all with a smile on her face and an inner beauty derived from a job well done, a task accomplished, and an unwillingness to let her disability stop her from finding a way “to do,” as opposed to “not do,” as she certainly had every reason and rationale to choose the latter path. Interestingly, “not do” seems to be all the rage these days.

We have all heard a lot lately about the fact that employers are having a difficult time finding workers as it has become challenging in an environment in which many potential workers can make more money not working than they can working. We also have heard much as to the many trillions of dollars that have been utilized and contemplated for various bailouts and government sponsored programs that are meant to help affected individuals, organizations, companies, and municipalities. Take a moment to consider that a trillion seconds equates to 31,000 years! Read that again and truly let that sink into the depths of your imagination. Math is a funny thing in that large numbers, if you hear them mentioned casually enough times, lose their ability to amaze and stupefy us. We should be BOTH amazed and stupefied. Trillions of dollars being spent on anything, especially trillions of dollars that are created out of thin air (“deficit spending” makes it all sound so strategic and benign) are not something that responsible citizens should not take lightly, and yet we do. That is on us, we should be better informed. The bottom line here is that it makes no sense to incentivize people to not work. Help is one thing, disincentivizing is an entirely different “strategy.” Utter stupidity and it will take a toll on us financially as well as psychologically. The best and the brightest are not created while sitting on a couch playing a video games waiting for the next check or direct deposit to arrive. Have we lost our minds?   

Back to my “friend” from Trader Joe’s. Really take a moment and consider what it would be like to exist with one good arm. Talk about a great excuse to feel bitter, depressed, anxious, and unconfident, she has it. Like a victim? You bet. Also take an additional moment and consider many of the things you do every day and take completely for granted. Driving a car, dressing yourself, working on a computer, preparing a meal, getting out of bed, etc. etc. Perhaps she does take these things for granted now, yet the journey must have been difficult and frustrating. Then again, perhaps she knew no other way, so the learning was simply natural, yet different. I don’t know the specifics, yet I do know that she could have chosen a much different trajectory in life, and the fact that she didn’t should serve as inspiration to the kind of person our current zeitgeist is engendering. Unfortunately, I know that it won’t as we are reaping what we sow, and the seed of this next generation is deeply planted in the soil. We have taught them to be overly sensitive about virtually everything, believe you are a victim when the world does not hand you exactly what you want, and finally to judge people in ways that celebrates ethnicity over ethics and performance. Perhaps I am being a bit harsh? I don’t think so. Time will tell. You can’t win the race, by refusing to run.

Courage, integrity, and intestinal fortitude come to mind off the top of my head when I think of the young woman from Trader Joe’s. I may not agree with everything she thinks and feels, yet I can guarantee you that I will listen to anything she has to say. Her actions have earned it. Respect is not and should not be something that is bestowed and awarded. It is, and always will be something backed up by action. Life 101.  Somehow I feel we have lost our reliance on this eternal truth. I am not attempting to place her on some type of a pedestal, I am simply using her as a contrast to the apathy and lethargy I see all around me. The next time I do something difficult I will think of her and somehow, I feel that task might seem a little less challenging.

“The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong at the broken places. But those that will not break it kills. It kills the very good and the very gentle and the very brave impartially. If you are none of these you can be sure it will kill you too but there will be no special hurry.”

Translation- life can be difficult, through the struggle we learn and grow.

Ernest Hemingway from A Farewell to Arms

The 2021 version could be, “The world breaks everyone really easily and afterward many are perpetually weak at the repeatedly broken areas.” It is time for our country to look to God again and celebrate the ways that led us to our status as the best country in the world. If that sounds arrogant that is not my intent; my intent is to be patriotic and celebrate a love for one’s country. It is not too late and perhaps the example of an impressive young woman (who happens to have one arm), finding joy in her work / life rather than showcasing sympathy and entitlement gives me hope.

“Do not pray for an easy life, pray for the strength to endure a difficult one.”

Bruce Lee

Thomas M. Cook     5/13/21

On a recent trip to Maui (sorry to make that sound so casual, it certainly is rare and special), I was captivated by two distinct “ecosystems” which helped me better understand the manner in which the nuances of societal / social interaction are so significantly governed by circumstance. Before you roll your eyes and disparage this nonscientist’s ability to write a scientific study, relax and realize than I am speaking metaphorically, and based on induced observation under the influence of beautiful scenery and wonderful sunshine as can only be fully appreciated by a happy escapee from the sometimes-dreary Pacific Northwest, on the heels of a snow / ice storm which crippled the greater Portland area, and delayed my flight out of Portland by a day. Some quick thinking by my sister Allison, travelling to Maui out of San Diego, saved the day even if it meant trading my first-class seat for a middle row seat cloistered between two “above average” sized dudes in the back of the plane. Nothing quite like fighting snow and ice, stressing over Covid protocols, imitating the crème filling of an Oreo cookie for six hours, and then suddenly basking in warm Pacific breezes in a span of a mere eight hours or so. It can help one not only believe in, but in fact, expect miracles.

I was in Maui for the celebration of my parent’s 6oth wedding anniversary. We were joined by my three sisters for a wonderful stay in the Kapalua area. We have done this three times over the years and it has been a special experience for all of us. The beautiful, rented home (big thank you to my parents!) is nestled in a secluded cove that is visited by green sea turtles* throughout the day. We can almost time our day by their coming and going which includes long periods in which they beach themselves with a timing and regularity that has probably not changed much for thousands of years. No one is entirely sure why they do it; possible explanations include energy conservation, rest, and escape from predators. When you see these behemoths (an adult is approximately four feet long and can weigh more than 300 pounds), it is easy to forget that they were once small hatchlings whose survival was chancy at best. These true survivors are the exception and not the rule. Life is not easy for a hatchling sea turtle running the gauntlet of sand to sea. Once in the ocean, the threats begin anew. Hard to imagine that a decent sized crab or a predatory fish, are at one point a life and death threat. Such is life in the arcane battleground that is our breathtaking Pacific Ocean habitat as observed and interpreted by mere terrestrial human eyes. These turtles have come to be a true symbol of Maui and the special sights that abound.

In and around this idyllic spot, which includes beautiful views of the island of Molokai and the distant frolicking and journeying of grey whales in the blue green ocean beyond, lies a tide pool environment which I had not investigated in previous trips. On the last day of this leg of the trip, I decided to take a look. I felt like an unwelcome observer of a harsh and brutal word juxtaposed against the paradise which encases this unique and intriguing ecosystem.

Now it isn’t like I hadn’t explored a rocky tidepool before. The volcanic rock that forms a Maui tidal area is undeniably unique. Nevertheless, it is a prototypical tidepool with its black shelled sentinels of the neighborhood known as Rock Crabs;* it’s schools of tiny fish that move as one in their well-coordinated dance of subterfuge in shallow pools that in some way, shape, or form confuse potential predators in a way that humans will, once again, probably never fully comprehend. I also noticed the occasional, larger, colorful fish that nervously perused the vicinity opportunistically, yet with an angst which suggested to me that in hunting they knowingly subjected themselves to being hunted. I took note of tiny crabs that had somehow managed to find a shell small enough to equip them with a perfect protective refuge, allowing them to scavenge the sandy bottoms for whatever minuscule scraps the other far larger denizens of the rocky fortress wouldn’t even consider worthy of a glance. One creature’s speck is another creature’s bounty. I saw the stationary anemones and urchins which seem more plant than animal. They are the ultimate opportunists as whatever potential meal that comes their way must be ambushed and not pursued. All pretty remarkable, and yet somehow mundane. Its affairs occur constantly, yet the characters and their merciless tactics never change much. This shallow ocean habitat is indeed bountiful, and yet it is stingy and dangerous. These creatures choose a fortlike environment to call home as the never-ending rhythm of the waves and tides bring a limited yield to the countless residents. I found it interesting, and I found it enjoyable, yet I never quite made the connection as to the analogy / metaphor which only a tidal environment could make so well. Sometimes it is difficult to understand the Ying without visiting / experiencing the Yang.

Leg Two of the vacation meant saying goodbye to two of my sisters and to the west side of Maui and heading to the Wailea / Kihei area and a week’s stay at the Grand Wailea. My wife was flying in and we anticipated a great time of course. The Grand Wailea is a beautiful property and we soon fell into a nice routine which included a morning breakfast at the little on-grounds store / café. One of the perks of the hotel was a $40 per diem voucher that had to be used by 11:00 AM each day. Talk about a captive audience… At the prices they charge in Maui, this became a daily ritual for my wife and me. Rather quickly, I noticed the local bird population had opportunistically discovered the proclivity for human beings to order more than needed. It became a “bird paradise” of easy pickings unlike anything I had seen before. The food source was easy, abundant, and consistent for them; as a result, the various birds displayed uncharacteristic behavior that was, for lack of a better phrase, “orderly and polite.”

The top dog on the bird totem pole is definitely the Myna bird*. Perhaps it is related to the fact that they are simply larger, or possibly it has something to do with their strategy. Mynas are not native to Hawaii (native to India). As a matter of interest, these highly intelligent birds, have become a bit of a pest in Hawaii as they have become all over the world in areas where they have been introduced (either intentionally or by chance). They can be quite territorial and aggressive and are known for invading the nests of native birds rather than going to the trouble of building their own. Why build your own when you can take someone else’s handiwork. Many native species are threatened as a result. The Myna is one of only three birds listed among “The 100 Worst Invasive Species” in a 2000 published scientific study. More villainous than virtuous, they are nonetheless interesting to watch as they seem to hop along in a somewhat comical way; it is almost cartoon-like I must say.

The next level of supremacy seems to be a bit of a tie between the Red Crested Cardinal and the Zebra Dove. The former is an absolutely beautiful little bird (though not a true cardinal) which, exactly as the name suggests, sports a prominent, brilliant red head, while the former is noteworthy for its rodent-like movements along the ground and the fact that it allows close contact before flying off a short distance. Neither bird is native to the Islands though they have definitely not been associated with many of the problems attributed to their fellow resort opportunist, the Myna bird.

Last but not least on the list, the common House Finch which is found in all fifty states. What they lack in novelty they make up for in sheer numbers. They are seemingly ubiquitous on the islands and are, unquestionably, the shock troops of the scavenger battalion. Despite their common occurrence, they do possess a chirp that is uniquely beautiful and distinctive. I’m sure most of you have heard it many times.   

As mentioned, there is food enough for all and although the birds seem to innately recognize and adhere to the pecking order, they do so in an interesting way. The various tourists leave plenty of food for them in one form or another. At his point, I must confess, I’m not sure who is most interesting, the birds or the tourists, but I’ll stick to the theme and get on with the bird behavior I witnessed. Most everyone has been in a situation in which birds congregated around them while eating a meal. I believe all of us have probably tossed a crumb or two and then watched the birds scurry and compete to be the lucky recipient of the offered tidbit. That happened here as well, to an extent. There was simply so much offered in the form of bird-feeding diners, left over offerings, and the occasional dropped item, the birds were almost leisurely about the whole affair. The House Finches came and went even though more food was readily available. The Red Crested Cardinals and Zebra Doves moved around the periphery of the far more numerous House Finches and were content to let the smaller birds take what they needed and then move in when the opportunity afforded. You could tell that they were dominant and yet they seemed reticent to flaunt the fact. Off and on the Mynas would move in and take what they wanted. Their basic strategy was to find a larger morsal and then fly away with it, but again, their execution was leisurely and for the most part lacking in any overt aggression. Why? Because there was plenty for all and the various birds seemed conditioned to an utter lack of urgency in their behaviors. It was weird and kind of fascinating.

As I watched all of this, I thought back to the tidepools of west Maui. This ecosystem represented the polar opposite of what I had just observed. Scarcity led to keen competition which in turn led to tactics and behaviors which are harsh and unforgiving. Surplus, on the other hand, led to behaviors that are benevolent and decidedly tolerant of fellow food seekers. Also, and importantly, they had become dependent and seemingly slovenly in the foraging talents for which birds are known. Something was gained, and yet something was lost it seemed. Not exactly an earthshattering insight I realize, but it got me thinking about History and how the following patterns can be detected in some obvious ways and some not so obvious ways.

My book of choice for the trip was a book titled Andersonville by Mackinlay Kantor (1955). The book has been described by some reviewers as one of the greatest Civil War (1861-1865) novels of all-time. It is a fictionalized account of the infamous Andersonville prisoner of war camp* in southwestern Georgia that housed over 45,000 union prisoners during the war (Andersonville National Historic Site – Wikipedia). Nearly 13,000 died and many more barely survived. The conditions were utterly horrific. Malnutrition, lack of sanitary drinking water, lack of shelter, horrific filth, and unspeakable atrocities and murder perpetrated by fellow prisoners, were all a part of the story. Survival often came down to one’s ability to benefit from the misery / misfortune of others. Survivors looked like Jewish WWII Holocaust prisoners when Andersonville was ultimately liberated. Scarcity brings out the worst in people as one might expect. The people in the South were starving and in dire straits late in the war (Generals U.S. Grant’s and William Tecumseh Sherman’s tactic to take the war to the civilian population was achieved with devastating effectiveness).  Whether the conditions in the camp derived from this factor alone or a general hatred of one’s enemy in a bitter, hard-fought war, no one can say for sure and perhaps it was a little of each. Henry Wirtz, the commander of Andersonville became the only person to be prosecuted, found guilty, and executed for war crimes after the war. Interestingly, six Union prisoners were tried by Union prisoners, found guilty of capital crimes, and executed with the approval of the Confederate authorities running the prison in 1864. Kind of astounding… My wife and I actually visited the place (which is now a national historic site) several years ago and it remains the most eerie historic site I have ever visited / experienced.

In The American Heritage Book of Indians (a true classic in the work of American Indian studies- first published in 1961 with a foreword by John F. Kennedy), the author, William Brandon speaks of California coastal Indians* and their simplicity when it came to warfare-  

“But in the main the myth shrouded world of the California coast people, idle and merry, collapsed almost at the first toll of the mission bell; there were a few armed revolts; but none of any consequence- these people were hopelessly simple when it came to making war.”

They lived in an environment of plenty with no need to migrate in order to seek out the best hunter / gatherer areas for survival. Food and water were almost always plentiful, and the climate was temperate; there was enough for all, and as a result, keen competition and/or conflict with one’s neighbors was rare. Instead, they traded and generally got along quite well. Consequently, the art of war / the ability to wage war was simplistic at best.

Eastern pioneers who headed West were absolutely amazed by the docility of the indigenous tribes inhabiting the West Coast of California. They and their not-so-distant relatives were used to tangling with the nomadic, fierce, warlike people of the Great Plains who had been clashing over the life-sustaining, best hunting, and grazing grounds for centuries before they ever beheld an American. The Sioux, Cheyenne, Arapaho, Crow, Kiowa, Commanche, and countless other tribes were warrior societies (out of necessity) who gave as good as they got, and in many cases better, when it came to armed conflict with the Americans. If not for technological advantages and a lack of immunity to European diseases, the final outcome would have been far bloodier and more protracted. The mostly unfamiliar tribes of the coastal regions of Southern California are now largely anonymous outside of scholarship on the subject (and Indian casinos which incidentally often market the tribal ancestors in such a manner as to resemble the stereotypical tribes of the Great Plains).

Surplus and scarcity are certainly complex behavior modifiers as seen through the annals of History. Interestingly, these modifications are observed in all forms of life. Humans, equipped with our superior intelligence, have certainly not exhibited behavior in which we act markedly differently than lesser creatures. External stimuli lead to remarkably similar behavior I would suggest. My two historical examples are a bit random I realize. They are the product of a lifelong interest in American West history and the natural world and its creatures; hopefully, these examples capture the essence of the observation. The prisoners at Andersonville could have chosen to work together in order to cope with the scarcity of resources. They did, for example, band together and cooperate in order to eliminate an internal scourge / threat within the prison. The Indian people on the west coast of California could have decided to make a commitment to defense in the face of a surplus of resources with the rationale that it might be wise to prepare for an unknown future threat. Unfortunately, current reality seems to trump the ability to reason, cooperate, and contemplate a future sea change threat. This seems to be an eternal truth rather an interesting observation.

Perhaps Maslow’s well-known Hierarchy of Needs (see below) * comes into play more than we realize. Food, Water, Warmth, and Rest (Psychological Needs) form the bottom (largest segment) of the pyramid; without this foundational baseline need being met, higher, more enlightened ways of thinking and behaving are impossible. Safety and Security needs form the next level; in other words, without the former, the latter doesn’t even matter! Conversely, in an environment in which these basic foundational needs require no real effort to attain, something vital is lost in terms of more complex cognitive development (even though the “rainy day” ALWAYS comes- ALWAYS). Too much of a good thing is almost always a bad thing as counterintuitive as that may seem. Our God given “divine spark” which separates us from other living creatures can be lost from time to time when the scales of scarcity and surplus tilt too far in one direction. I suppose I am saying that the Andersonville saga shares much with a tide pool environment; and the study of California Indian people during the time before the arrival of white people can intriguingly look to the birds of the Grand Wailea for an insight into tendencies derived of surplus and ease. Moreover, I would suggest that there should be a true humility borne of these collective insights. Yet, this is rarely the case. The march of folly continues unabated.

“I am the vine; you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me, you can do nothing.”

Mathwew 15:5

Thomas M. Cook 4/1/21

2020 / TYLNO (The Year Like No Other) and beyond has continued to provide fertile ground for an examination of the worst angels of our collective nature taking root and flourishing. Often, it can be helpful and instructive to look back rather than forward as it is difficult if not impossible to understand where we are without a clear and thorough understanding of where we have been. Tearing down statues and vestiges of our past (both literally and figuratively), is all well and good if in fact we feel as though the passage of time has inexorably led to a perfection of the human condition and spirit which would suggest a moral high ground. Which in turn, allows us to view ourselves as superior and in fact complete, no longer an imperfect work in progress. Unfortunately, for those who would be inclined to think this way, I would suggest the past is prologue; we learn from it in a manner that is nuanced, layered, and complex. A belief that the passage of time leads to better, smarter, more evolved people, in some kind of linear trajectory, is simply an exercise in hubris and self-aggrandizement that is open to challenge and refute.

The best example I have found to truly explain and understand History as a conceptual science is to examine the BACK OF YOUR HANDS as you age. For the younger readers, this will not yet resonate but trust me, it will. Because our hands are such utilitarian instruments, we see them all the time, yet we hardly notice them unless urged to do so. Over time they change in ways we can hardly imagine. The veins become far more apparent, the skin begins to wrinkle, the tendons start to show, and the color begins to change. This is HISTORY up close and personal and it smacks one in the face rather than nudges one on the shoulder. With the passage of time, styles shift, buildings age, streets change, and the heroes of the past can become the villains of the present; it is important to remember that History has this cognitive aspect as well. And, significantly, no one is going to convince me that an electronics obsession that includes staring into a cell phone incessantly and divisive, narcissistic, Social Media reliance is representative of a society that is operating on an intellectual level which is worthy of judging or critiquing the zeitgeist of the past in a sanctimonious manner. For me, that concept is actually laughable.

Emily Post is a name that few readers under 50 would recognize most likely and yet, she had an amazing influence on our American culture. As a matter of fact, she finished second to Eleanor Roosevelt as the most powerful woman in America (as chosen by Pageant Magazine) in 1950. Pretty remarkable, in light of the fact, that Eleanor Roosevelt was the wife / partner of a man / President who had led America through the gut-wrenching rigors of The Great Depression and World War II. This former First Lady had quite a personal resume as well, so the prominence of that selection is noteworthy and deserving of further examination.

 Emily Post was born in Baltimore, Maryland in 1872 into a life of wealth and ease. She could have easily and breezily drifted through an existence of quite comfortable obscurity. Instead, she became the champion for a now little-known concept “etiquette.”

Merriam-Webster defines etiquette as “the conduct or procedure required by good breeding or prescribed by authority to be observed in social or official life.”

I like this definition a little better- “the technique of human conduct in all circumstances of life..”

I know what you are thinking. Why should we in 2021 care about “good breeding” and which fork to use with our salad at dinner? Sounds like “white privledge” stuff to me? Well, in my humble opinion you would be very wrong indeed.

Etiquette in a utilitarian sense refers to a system of morals and manners crafted to help people of vastly different persuasions (and yes ethnic backgrounds) cope with a changing America in and around a period known as The Gilded Age (1877-1900) and the conclusion of World War I (1914-1918). The Gilded Age was characterized by a period of rapid economic growth primarily in the northern and western parts of the country which included a massive influx of European immigrants in response to this expansion, and in turn, a time of abject poverty for many as the country grappled with the integration of so many new arrivals. And, yes, it was not all altruism and good outcomes (despite lots of social reform); there was plenty of inequality as the newcomers were the bottom of the totem pole in terms of economic opportunity. Still, they came BECAUSE America was a MILLION times better than the places they fled. We should never forget this and moreover, we should remember it today for those who choose to see this country as racist and irredeemable.

The idea of etiquette ultimately came about near the turn of the century as a clash of old money versus new money in an environment that was unlike anything America had seen in her short history as a country. It was, for better or worse, the birth of the modern industrialized world. World War I provided a truly cataclysmic, tragic world event that further challenged and dislocated societal norms. Etiquette was a creation of the “haves,” yet it has, over the years, had something to benefit all. The term Gilded Age (which was in fact a critical one) wasn’t actually used until around the time of Post’s publication (1922) of Etiquette, in Society, in Business, in Politics, and at Home. It later came to be known as simply Etiquette and has been in publication since (19^th edition). In Emily Post’s own words, she gets to the true heart of etiquette with the following statement.

“Manners are a sensitive awareness of the feelings of others. If you have that awareness, you have good manners, no matter what fork you use.”

It has in fact been stated by some that etiquette is and should be an artifact of a bygone era, just like the Bible and The Ten Commandments; It is about little, inconsequential, meaningless trifles that have become antiquated in our fast-paced, connected world. Oh really… I would suggest that a little etiquette is exactly what we need right now to deal with the discord and acrimony that are such a commonplace part of our everyday life. Emily Post speaks of such things as handwritten thank you notes, polite conversation, and the proper way to conduct human contact that shows respect and honor to friends and associates. Yes, it is very formalized and elaborate. Perhaps, the loss of these formalities has been a greater loss than we realize. Consider the way that correspondence used to include an opening “Dear” and a closing “Sincerely” for example. These are small subtle details that connotated the aforementioned respect and honor.

Emily Post saw a society that was lurching toward something that suggested a loss of control with respect to the way people in a changing America were engaging, and she set about the task of suggesting some rules of interaction. Sound familiar in a clarion call kind of way? This interpretation may be overly simplistic and again it is true that her target audience was a mostly affluent one. Nevertheless, the message is a good one. The seemingly trivial habits and protocols matter more than we realize; morals and manners are important and coexist in a symbiotic way. Pretty empty to practice and profess to have one without the other tagging along; Emily Post pointed this out for the world to see. And the world has never stopped looking in updated versions over the years since its publication. There is a reason that The Ten Commandments have had an even greater (though now diminished unfortunately) staying power. Human interaction has always existed in a fragile state of equilibrium between good and evil. You would be free to dispute that supposition, but please do not use History as a support for your argument.

A.A. (Alan Alexander) Milne was born in London in 1882. Milne is best known as the creator of Winnie The Pooh, Christopher Robin, and their menagerie of friends in something known as The Hundred Acre Woods. What most people don’t know is that Milne’s personal life provides a wonderful example of how history instructs and teaches in the present tense; note that Milne was a contemporary of Post. The middle portion of the Victorian Era (1832-1901) is often seen as a period synonymous in some ways with the Gilded Age in America. It was also a time of great political, economic, and social change that ushered in a call for higher moral standards by many. Granted, this is a somewhat flawed comparison as England was a mature country and America was in an early adolescent stage, yet the comparison is instructive, nonetheless. Both countries were dealing with massive dislocation and change and were seeking ways to make sense of it all as many of us are doing today in our highly polarized country.

 “History doesn’t repeat itself, but it often rhymes.” Mark Twain

Milne started out as a mathematician but gradually shifted towards a literary career. After earning a Mathematics degree at Trinity College in Cambridge, Milne moved to London and took a writing job with the satirical magazine Punch in 1906. In 1914 he enlisted in the Royal Warwickshire Regiment to fight in World War I and would participate in the Battle of The Somme in 1916. This is no small, inconsequential statement; The Battle of The Somme was, in many ways, a battle like no other as it was sheer carnage and horror for those unfortunate combatants on both sides. It was a battle conceived to hasten the end of the war and it was partially successful, yet the cost was frightful. Incredibly, the British and the French soldiers looking to drive the Germans out of France were in large part comprised of soldiers who were facing combat for the first time. The campaign lasted better than six months and of the roughly three million soldiers who participated, over one million were killed or wounded, making it one of the bloodiest battles in human history.

The latter stages of The American Civil War (1861-1865) have been referred to as a dress rehearsal for World War I. In that American war, as in this battle, trench warfare and a set of tactics that were completely inappropriate and ill-suited to the realities and sophistication of the weaponry involved were on full display. Massed troops would charge pell-mell into fortified positions inhabited by soldiers armed with rapid-fire machine guns. The results were predictable and yet the tactics stubbornly and inexplicably persisted. Many of the units were composed of friends from the same town. In one truly poignant example a battalion from the 11^th East Lancashire England, fighting on the first day started with 720 and lost 584 for an 81% casualty rate. To put this into proper perspective, the D-Day invasion soldiers who stormed the beaches of Normandy, France in 1944 during World War II, suffered an approximately 40% casualty rate. This senseless human carnage was the reality of World War I in general, and the battle of the Somme in particular. Milne could count himself as one of the “fortunate” ones as he was seriously injured, sent home, and recovered. Many of his closest friends were killed and gravely wounded. Can you imagine what he saw, the fear he must have felt, the loss he must have suffered through, and the long-term psychological consequences he must of have battled. I can’t either yet, I can tell you this horrific experience shaped the course his postwar life would take and inspire the beautiful words he would later share with the world.

“Believe it! You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, smarter than you think, and loved more than you’ll ever know.” A. A. Milne (Christopher Robin in Winnie The Pooh- 1926)

“I’m not lost for I know where I am. But however, where I am may be lost.” A.A. Milne (Winnie The Pooh in Winnie The Pooh 1926)

“You can’t stay in your corner of the Forest waiting for others to come to you. You have to go to them sometimes.” (Winnie The Pooh in Winnie The Pooh 1926)

These words seem to have much to do with the convalescence of a man attempting to heal from the events of 1916 France and not simply the creation of an entertaining tale for his son. Words can be tonic, and it is important to remember that an idea of post traumatic shock syndrome didn’t exist at that time. The war was over, you had survived while many had not, and it was time to move on, seemed to be the therapeutic mantra in those days. It appears to me that Milne had certainly not tidily exorcised the terrible demons of his past and he set about to vanquish them in the only way that he knew, words and stories. It has been suggested by later psychological analysis that each of the unique characters represented an aspect of PTSD.  

“It’s been theorized by Dr. Sarah Shea that Milne wrote into each character of Winnie-the-Pooh a different psychological disorder. While only A. A. Milne could tell us for certain, Dr. Shea’s theory seems pointed in the right direction, but may be a little too impersonal. After all, the book was written specifically for one child, by name, and features the stuffed animals that the boy loved.

It’s more likely, in my opinion, that the stories were a way for Milne to explain his own post-traumatic stress to his six-year-old son. Every stuffed friend in the Hundred Acre Woods is a child-friendly representation of a characteristic of post-traumatic stress. Piglet is paranoia, Eeyore is depression, Tigger is impulsive behaviors, Rabbit is perfectionism-caused aggression, Owl is memory loss, and Kanga Roo represent over-protection. This leaves Winnie, who Alan wrote in for himself as Christopher Robin’s guide through the Hundred Acre Woods — his father’s mind.”   

Eric Milzarski- April of 2020.

Yes only Milne knows for sure. I would continue to suggest that the writing, at least subconsciously, may have been more for himself than his son. His words became his coping therapy / cure in much the same way that powerful pharmaceutical drugs are used today in our name it, blame it, tame it protocol with regard to disease, be it mental or physical. Coping with severe psychological trauma is not new; the methods employed are quite different and I am not so sure it is a black/white conclusion that the modern methods are superior. I am no doctor, merely a keen observer of some of the trends that are emerging. Long contemplative walks in nature and the balm of expressing heartfelt words on paper as a strategy in response to the emotional traumas of life seems to be making a comeback. Milne experienced something far beyond the understanding / coping abilities of 99.9% of the population of course. And, yet he set about the task with the tools of the day.   

Ironically, the very words and stories that may have assuaged his trauma, created further inner turmoil as he saw himself as a serious writer and the success of Winnie The Pooh and his various friends typecast Milne as a children’s writer despite his many attempts to resuscitate the former (with only modest success), something he regretted terribly for the rest of his life despite the enormous financial success. And fame for both he and his son (the model for Christopher Robin). A fame that for his son proved to be a somewhat devastating thing. The following statements really sum up the depth of this unintended consequence.

“I feel that the legal Christopher Robin has already had more publicity than I want for him. I do not want CR Milne to ever wish that his name were Charles Robert.” A.A. Milne

 “It seemed to me almost that my father had got to where he was by climbing upon my infant shoulders, that he had filched from me my good name and had left me with the empty fame of being his son.” Christopher Robin Milne

 Life is funny, and often in a sad, incomprehensible, unintended way. Milne had managed to provide countless people around the world with something poignant and lovingly tender, and yet the personal familial cost, we now know was rather significant. I know that my two daughters were fans growing up and on more than one occasion I can remember enjoying it as much as them and drawing much needed solace from the simplicity and innocence of Walt Disney’s rendition of Milne’s creation. Near the end of A.A. Milnes’ life his son would visit him occasionally yet subtle animosity on the part of C.R. Milne seemed to continue to simmer over the years.  

As previously mentioned, I realize it is popular and perhaps ingrained in us to believe that the passage of time leads to a progression of thought and intellect. I have also suggested that there is pretty strong evidence that this is patently untrue, at least in any kind of linear, distinguishable pattern. Instead, I believe that we learn from the past in a manner that attempts to lessen the possibility of repeating mistakes from the past. We rarely, if ever look at the past and ponder the possibility that our approach and strategies with respect to something commonplace yet epic, like War, Poverty, Mental Trauma, and Loss, was better in the past than it is in the present. I would suggest that this is precisely what we should be more open to do. Moreover, we should shy away from confronting something distasteful in our past and view erasure as the remedy to heal the wound or right the wrong. “Judge not lest ye be judged” might be a helpful aphorism from our Judeo-Christian past which could be instructive for the lofty heights of 2021 and Woke ideology. People in the past got it wrong despite the best of intentions, just like people now will get it wrong. Humans are fallible creatures. The passage of time has no ability to change that great Truth.  

Consider the example of Albert Einstein. Though never on the faculty of Princeton University, Einstein had an office in the mathematics department during the 1930’s and was, by then, a renowned scientist who had accomplished a great deal including his astonishing theories of special and general relativity for which he is most famous. In 1938, the freshman class at Princeton University chose Albert Einstein as the second greatest living person in the world. Quite an accomplishment, unfortunately the first choice was none other than Adolf Hitler. As the saying goes, “it seemed like a good idea at the time.” Perhaps we should cancel Princeton University for this sin of nearly 83 years ago.

Instead, I feel it would be wise to humbly submit to the idea that our future will almost certainly provide revelations and examples to future generations of how we got it wrong in ways we can only speculate now. History has a funny way of embodying another interesting aphorism, “what comes around goes around.” The past provides a treasure-trove of knowledge and insight for both the times we get it wrong and the times we get it right. Maybe, just maybe, Emily Post and AA Milne were imperfect, though exceptional human beings who can provide a few lessons with respect to how we should cope and navigate the 21^st century and beyond. As for Albert Einstein, the trend continues to look promising. As for Princeton University, I won’t say anything if you don’t.

Thomas M. Cook

February 1, 2021

Over the last few days of 2020 I was surprised to hear from Tracy Magdalene who plays a prominent yet anonymous role in my piece entitled Brushes With The Unspeakable. The story talks of three instances in my life in which I was indirectly thrust into circumstances which were both violent and tragic. I was on the periphery, just close enough, but not so close (“brushes”), in that my life was affected in any tactile manner other than to feel extreme sympathy for the people who were directly impacted. One feels the sympathy and then life goes on; that is the human way for better or worse. Tracy was one of the people who was directly impacted in the most visceral fashion imaginable. I probably did not think of her enough (then or now), though I never knew her name or intimate, personal story until just recently. Tracy lived through a terrible tragedy and came out the other end in much the same way that Ernst Hemmingway stated in A Farewell To Arms.

“The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong at the broken places.”

Imagine losing someone in the manner that events unfolded on that morning of January 31st, 1989. I encourage my readers to go back and read Brushes With The Unspeakable armed with this new information. Interestingly Tracy and I did speak today by phone and I was truly honored to hear that my story actually helped her to feel a better sense of comfort and closure relative to the human tragedy that unfolded; there is nothing more gratifying for a writer. I am still a bit unsure how my story helped, I am simply happy that it did, and I am buoyed by the human connection, made possible under the worst of circumstances. Tracy’s story is one of triumph as she did not lean into hate. In fact, she actually found a sense of compassion that was not, understandably, initially there. Roberta Pearce remains in prison at age 73 and the young killers were (apparently) freed at the age of 25 and have faded into oblivion (changed names, altered identities, and one would assume, saddled with the guilt of youth, now understood through the wisdom of age). No one will truly know how they actually feel. Except themselves… We are left to speculate.

Life is not fair, nor is it easy to understand. I do believe that things happen for a reason and that there are no coincidences. Only God knows the answers to the unknowable in our human existence. I am truly gratified by the blessings and opportunities afforded to me in this life; our family has experienced tragedy nonetheless, as we lost a precious young neice in a devastating accident several years ago. Terrible things can happen to any of us at any time, and yet there is abundant good. Moreover, History teaches all of us that the realities of man’s inhumanity to man truly knows no bounds, yet, we are still connected somehow in a way that is difficult to articualte yet easy to sense in the few remaining, quiet, uncluttered parts of our minds and souls.

12/31/2020 TMC

From: Tracy Magdalene wordpress@inveteratethinkerer.com
Sent: Wednesday, December 30, 2020 11:32 AMComment: Good Afternoon – I just read the blog post entitled Brushes with the Unspeakable, and I learned of the writer’s brush with the 1989 murder on Carol View Drive in Cardiff. I am very much interested in speaking with the writer because I am the woman with whom Wayne Pearce was involved at the time of his death. I know intimately the scene he describes upon his return to the complex, as I, too, had arrived to the same scene. This January will mark the anniversary of Wayne’s death. Roberta Pearce is still in a woman’s prison at the age of 73 (I just checked last week). I have had no connection with anyone who knows of this important and tragic event, and I would like to. I can be reached at the above email address. Thank you for your consideration.

Hi Tracy,

Wow.

Thank you for reading my write up on this. What a sad time that must have been for you.

Do you still live in the San Diego area? I can’t even imagine how you coped with something like that.

I would be very interested in hearing the events as they unfolded after the murder. The dissemination of news was so different then. Thank you again for reaching out and sharing the connection.

Best,

Thomas M. Cook

Hi Thomas —

Thank you so much for responding! I was intrigued by your article, and I’m surprised I didn’t come across it sooner. I have never spoken with anyone who had a connection to this event, and your description of what you saw upon coming back from your run was so vivid for me. I’m so very glad you wrote this, and I am so very glad that you were not harmed, in any of the three incidents in which you came so very close to being in harm’s way.

My life was thrown into some chaos on January 31st, to be sure. I was just 24 years old at the time; Wayne was some years older than I. We were very much in love, though, in that new, kind of euphoric way that is common to new relationships. Our roommate, Pamela, is the one who called the police/ambulance as I was in San Diego for a breakfast meeting that began at 6:00 am. Every Tuesday. I would come home right afterward and change my clothes to go to work. I came home to the same scene that you did. Pam also called my parents, and my father flew the both of us home to Massachusetts, and then Pam flew to her home in Texas after a week in MA with me. I haven’t seen her or spoken to her since, with the exception of seeing her and spending time with her throughout the trial a year later. The majority of my time, though, was spent with the detectives, the prosecutor, and Wayne’s family. Oddly, I found myself feeling incredibly sorry for the two boys during the trial. They were so amped up on drugs and excited about the prospect of coming into a bunch of money. Roberta was their teacher, and to use that kind of authority to exploit them was and is unforgivable. To me. I look her up every year about this time. I don’t know why, but I just do. Other than that, I rarely think of her.

I should say that I have healed over Wayne’s death and how it came about, with some effort, some work, and with a lot of support from family and friends. I’ve been living in Northampton, MA ever since February of 1989, and I practice as a criminal defense lawyer in Springfield, MA. Your brush with the unspeakable in Boston also hit close to home because we seem to share a connection with Massachusetts as well. Although, two out of three close calls and I’m sort of connected to both? I’m glad the third had nothing to do with me. (A little bit of dark humor, here).

I did learn some things about what had actually taken place in the weeks/days prior to Wayne’s murder. Anthony Pilato and Isaac Hill (with Roberta’s help, of course) planned to shoot Wayne, and they had shown up at our apartment with that intention should he answer the door when they knocked. I, however, answered the door, and they asked for a person who didn’t live there, so I sent them on their way without another thought. You’re right. Sometimes we just don’t know how close we come to harm, and I, too, wonder if divine intervention steps in, if it’s a coincidence that makes us go left instead of right, or if we’re all just batshit crazy and winging it all the time. But it’s worth noting that their failed attempt that one evening brought them back to the apartment building on the morning at which you encountered your close call.

I would really like to discuss your experience over the telephone if you would be willing. Please know that it was just so shocking to see that article today, and it was also so comforting for some strange reason — that there’s someone out there who was there, like I was. If you wouldn’t be inconvenienced, would it be alright if I called to just chat for a few moments? If so, please let me know the best day and time. If you’re on the west coast, there’s the three hour time difference to consider. My cell is ———. Feel free to email or text. If you’d rather not, or if you think I’m some kind of crazy nut job, I get it. No worries.

In the meantime, please know that I am thankful for your article, so thank you ever so much for writing it. Finally, I’d just like to say that even though I don’t know you, I am happy that you are alive and well. I can’t help but think that things unfolded for you as they should have, whatever that means.

Be well,

Tracy

It would be exceedingly tempting to editorialize on all of the strange / surreal events of the year 2020. This however has been done ad nauseum, and I’m not sure I could add much to many of the things that we already know and perhaps most importantly, don’t know. We have witnessed a continued attack on President Trump and a bogus attempt at impeachment, a deadly yet mysterious pandemic, completely self-imposed economic calamity and a nascent recovery, violent riots and demonstrations in major American cities that have seemingly been allowed and in many cases encouraged by political leadership (while in stark contrast, a complete shutdown of church gatherings has been endorsed), Western fires that are to date among some of the worst in recorded history, and the death of a Supreme Court Justice. As to what is next, only time will tell but something tells me, we may not have seen the worst of the year 2020. The Chinese have a saying that bad things come in threes. Wishful thinking, I suppose…

Vladimir Lenin, who seemingly is enjoying a surge of popularity in some circles, as unbelievable as that might sound to those of you knowing his resume reasonably well, once said- “There are decades where nothing happens and there are weeks where decades happen.” No one ever said that dangerous, misguided people can’t come up with witty and thought-provoking aphorisms. This could easily be the theme for 2020 and it is still only late- September.

Living in Portland, Oregon I feel as though I have “enjoyed” a ringside seat in the ongoing Shakespearean tragedy that has been the year 2020 unfolding. Also, since I am retired I have had an opportunity see events unfold more slowly and a little more contemplatively than most. For this, I am actually incredibly grateful, and I would love to take this opportunity to share a few nuanced observations which could have been gleaned through the jaundiced eye of close contact and suspended disbelief.

I have always been a true creature of habit who finds solace in routine and ritual. I go to bed early, I wake up early, I exercise every day (early) and tend to do a lot of the same things in the gym and in my outdoor exercise choices.  I do them fairly well because I have been doing them for many years. There is a real comfort in that for better or worse. Enter Covid-19 and the socio-economic lockdown.  

My whole world of routine 1.0 changed as I predictably and diligently defaulted to a new 2.0 routine. The gyms were soon closed. My ability to run long miles at age 57 suddenly began to desert me physically and mentally as I knew it would one day (great timing!). Good friends that I had seen in the morning fraternal ritual at the gym for many years were no longer a part of my life. It was often cold and rainy outside in the initial stages of lockdown. I figured if I couldn’t run long miles and I didn’t have the ability to go to a gym, I knew I could certainly go on really long walks, throw in a little running, and then do pushups and planks for strength training. Also, I could spend a lot more time on my bike than I had in the past. Viola’, I had a plan and a way to get through what I expected to be a brief delay in an imminent return to normalcy. This would have been mid-March or so.  

Little did I know that normalcy would prove to be an elusive concept. Stage one of the Great American Shake Out (Fake Out works well also) started out normally enough. I hit the Springwater Corridor Trail on both my bike and for my long run / walks. I wasn’t the only one with a similar idea. Initially people were friendly for the most part; lots of hellos, very few masks, and a general “we are in this together” type of attitude / vibe prevailed… I must add that the SCT is a magical place for the fitness community in both Clackamas and Multnomah counties. * It became a place to both escape and confront (more on this later). I have believed for several years now that the only way to truly know a place is to walk it. So, while I had biked and run on the SCT many times in the last 15 years or so, I had only walked there when an injury forced me to do so. Until recently I had viewed walking as something that old people do. I suppose the joke is on me, yet I am happy to report, the rewards and insights have been plentiful in this year like no other.

As mentioned, the initial days and weeks were somewhat festive for the many people who flocked to the SCT as a means to escape the tedium of economic / social lockdown. On an “early inning” Covid Crisis excursion on the multi-use trail, I even remember thinking that it reminded me a little of the immediate aftermath of 911 back in 2001. I was living in Camarillo, CA. at the time and I recall a friendliness and patriotism that I have not experienced since. This was the closest to that atmosphere I have experienced since, yet in retrospect, it was similar in only the loosest definition of the word. Sadly, post 911 unity did not last, And, sadder still, it is difficult if not impossible to imagine a return to the innocent passion and collective pride experienced in the immediate aftermath of 911. Be that as it may, this was the highwater mark for 2020.  People smiled, you could see their face, all of it, and not just the two slits of the eyes. There was more a sense of optimism than a sense of fear. The BLM / ANTIFA nightmare had not begun so Covid and its multifaceted tentacles was still flying solo as the main threat to our existential right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. None of us were happy about being locked up inside our homes, yet spring was here and The Trail offered a chance to clear the mind, recruit a few endorphins to run amuck through our moribund systems, and soak in a little extra vitamin D that we in the Pacific Northwest are so inclined crave. It was cathartic and renewing in a time of so few options.

Slowly but surely, things began to change. At first, a few people began to wear masks. They also began to create space between you and themselves. Often they looked away or would cast a glance of suspicion and distrust that could only be interpreted through the eyes, with no opportunity to be cancelled by the mouth via the potential of a reassuring smile. I came to understand that friendliness is equally dependent on the eyes and the mouth. One without the other is like a glorious sun with no blue sky. I made it a point to never wear a mask when I was out walking, hiking, biking, or running. Based on everything I had read or heard (including much which was ultimately censored) and the pure unmitigated power of common sense, it struck me as idiotic and it still does. Out in nature and on the trails / streets, I choose not to breathe in my own carbon dioxide. Call me crazy and I’m sure many did. Probably not the last time…

As spring turned to summer, the fear only seemed to intensify for many. Perhaps the rioting and looting (never saw much protesting), that were now a commonplace, nightly event in downtown Portland worked as some type of fear quotient magnifier that caused seemingly sane people to imagine boogeyman pathogens lurking in the private air space of each and every sentient being. I can recall biking, moving at a 16-17 mph clip and seeing a walker in the distance scramble to adjust their mask as I whisked by. I saw people running at respectable paces, wearing masks up to their eyeballs. If that doesn’t blow your mind, try it sometime. I would exchange the customary courtesy nod with biker after biker, heading in the opposite direction, on a trail that is largely rural, looking like identity hiding pirates dressed up for Halloween; I must admit I began to question their sanity. But, perhaps my favorite display of abject fear and / or utter stupidity occurred on an actual nature trail that I began to run / walk as an alternative to the SCT. Hikers coming in the opposite direction would literally dive into the brush as they saw me coming in the opposite direction. Granted the trail is not particularly wide yet I could not help shaking my head and forming a smile as I marched along like Moses parting the Red Sea. Talk about power? You don’t know power until you see actual adults practically diving off a trail, IN THE MIDDLE OF A FOREST, to avoid a fellow unmasked human being in the Age of Covid. I can only think of one reason why seemingly rational people behave in such an irrational manner and the culprit is FEAR. The bigger mystery for me is how a virus that is VERY contagious and yet, NOT PARTICULARILY deadly transformed people into such a draconian level of odd behavior. Quite frankly, I honestly and sincerely, am completely bewildered and astonished. OK, I get it; wear a mask, what can it hurt. In fact, it just might help. I kept thinking of the fact that simple questions were never asked nor explained. What kind of mask? What type of material? How long should you use it? What if you touch your face while wearing one? And I can think of many others. There was a time in this still unborn country when far hardier souls fought a war over taxation without representation; perhaps we should not submit so meekly to “maskation” without proper explanation. 

I began to notice another strange part of the Season of Covid (as if the aforementioned wasn’t strange enough). The litter began to change. Ever notice that litter has the ability to tell a story about the season or the state of affairs in the city / state / country. The Portland area has a large homeless society. Even in places where you do not see them, you see evidence of their presence and the vast majority of this evidence is pretty unseemly. Broken glass, hypodermic needles, defecation, and discarded dirty clothing are just some of the artifacts one might encounter on the Springwater Trail. Runners, bikers, and walkers leave their share of trash as well though it is usually quite benign. I began to notice a new item of trash with continuing regularity as the summer progressed. The blue mask that I have come to despise began to be a common sight on my outdoor sojourns. The optimist in me likes to imagine suddenly enlightened individuals tearing them off in a moment of clarity and rebellion against the “benevolent” control that has been forced upon us. The truth is probably something much less idyllic. There is nonetheless a story behind every one of those discarded masks and there are far too many for it to be simple civic neglect. The bottom line— that which we discard tells much about the life and times of the people who discarded it.  

I am no scientist or psychologist and I have no desire to be either one. I also have no desire to present a bunch of statistics to support my assertion that “a draconian level of odd behavior” abounds relative to Covid. Suffice it to say that a death rate of far less than 1% (among those that contract it) does not seem to justify the level of mass hysteria we are seeing. In fact, for someone under age 70 your risk of dying is close to statistical zero. We have been told to be afraid and we have responded in kind. Again, the reaction simply does not match the threat for the vast majority of people. I for one, feel it has been a complete embarrassment that we will look back on years from now and wonder how it happened. And, not in the way that we look back at bell bottom pants and mullet hair styles but in a way we look back on things far more sinister and shortsighted. Since I do not know when or how this will end, I’ll reserve for now a comparable example, and a conclusion to the chapter. Once you scare the citizenry sufficiently, it is possible and in fact quite plausible that behavior can be controlled and dictated. I have seen much that is strange and unsettling in 2020 and I am fairly confident of more to come, but I will never forget the spring and summer of 2020 and the lessons learned on The Springwater Trail.

https://www.traillink.com/trail/springwater-corridor/    *

“Think of how stupid the average person is and realize half of them are stupider than that.”

George Carlin

“One believes things because one has been conditioned to believe them.”

Aldous Huxley, Brave New World

TMC

September 30, 2020

For as long as I can remember basketball was an important part of my life. Growing up, all of my friends were basketball fanatics. If we were not playing basketball, we were watching it. And, as an often-used last resort, we would be talking about it. As a Boston Celtics fan growing up in Southern California during the 1980’s and the Showtime reign of the Los Angeles Lakers with the seemingly commonplace, yet epic clashes between those two storied teams, I often found myself outnumbered and, truth be told, loathed in a sort of agnostic, yet real way. I didn’t care and in fact I somewhat reveled in it.  Magic Johnson versus Larry Bird was an amazing time for basketball fans. I felt true fandom inspired hatred toward Kareem Abdul Jabbar, Magic Johnson, James Worthy, Byron Scott, and the rest. While the guys in the white hats included Kevin McHale, Robert Parrish, Dennis Johnson, and the aforementioned “Larry Legend.”

What fans often forget however were the epic battles waged by the Celtics and the Philadelphia 76’ers before either ever got to the Western Champion which was often the Lakers. It was pure blood sport in that these two teams genuinely hated one another. Every game usually included a little blood, potential/actual fights, and full-throated taunts. Looking back on it, I am quite sure they respected one another (this would be corroborated for me somewhat). Julius Erving, Moses Malone, Bobby Jones, Caldwell Jones, Andrew Toney, Darryl Dawkins, Charles Barley, and many others are etched in my brain and will never be forgotten. To say this basketball was physical and intense would be analogous to saying the invasion of Normandy was hard fought. I had two good friends who were diehard 76’er fans and somehow we often watched the games together. It never seemed to affect our friendship (much) though I am not sure how our friendship survived it. It was a modern-day Hatfield’s versus McCoy’s.

During the summer of 1985 and I fortuitously find myself in Maui, Hawaii with the family; yes, I have lived an extremely blessed life. The whole family (Ken, Mary Lou, and kids Amy, Allison, Carey and me) have great memories of not one but several trips to Maui during the decade of the 80’s. It was quite a special time as I reminisce from the fog of many years and innumerable changes for all of us. I do remember one evening in particular; we were dining at the famous Kimo’s Restaurant in downtown Lahaina. I tend to be fairly observant (although my wife would debate you on this). I saw a large black “kid” having dinner near our table, who quite frankly looked a little out of place. It did not seem like he had made a common practice of dining in Maui. He seemed a little awestruck and in truth, a tad uncomfortable; not surprisingly in light of the grand ascension his life had taken over the last year or so. I recognized him right away but remember this was the offseason of his rookie year, and Charles Barkley was, as unbelievable as this might sound, an unknown quantity. He was dining with a nondescript, Hawaiian shirt wearing, small statured, white guy who conversely appeared as though he had done this many times.

Charles had had a nice rookie season while playing all 82 games during the regular season while averaging 14.0 points and 8.6 rebounds. His playoff averages were a smidge better as he and the 76’ers ended up losing to the Celtics 4-1 in the Eastern Conference Finals. The Celtics would ultimately lose to the hated Lakers 4-2 in the Championship. Charles had come out of Auburn University with the nickname, “The Round Mound of Rebound.” He was the fifth player chosen in the 1984 NBA draft (drafted as a junior back in the days when four-year stints were common) and made the All-NBA Rookie First Team. He was really good, BUT he was 22 and only one year into what would become a Hall of Fame 16-year career* that included virtually everything but an NBA Championship ring. The great things were coming but on that warm summer of ‘85 night in Lahaina it was all mere ephemeral potential.

Recognizing Charles Barkley, I leaned over to my Dad and whispered into his ear to look over to a particular table. He did, and then asked me who it was. I told him it was Charles Barkley. We had watched a few of the games in the Celtics series and my Dad was a big sports fan, but again Charles was a rookie so at first he understandably hesitated in making the connection. However, even as a rookie, once you saw Charles Barkley play you didn’t forget it. He was a little undersized, a little overweight, extremely athletic, very intense and a little brash on the court, and his signature move was a “coast to coast” single man wrecking crew move down the court that started with a defensive rebound, often included a behind the back dribble, and ended with a dunk and a swing on the rim to punctuate it all. I can still remember the first time I saw him do it; my jaw literally dropped. Though a little raw for sure, any legitimate basketball eye could see that the kid was destined to be a star.

Once the recognition kicked in, Ken Cook didn’t hesitate. He headed right over to the table (yes we had all had a few drinks in case you were wondering) and says, “Are you Chuck Barkley?” I think he surprised them more than he surprised us. General George S. Patton would have been proud of the direct frontal attack. It worked like a charm and before we knew it we were engaged in a friendly dialogue that included the dissemination that his dinner companion was his agent (Lance) and that they were (remarkably) staying at the same resort where we were staying!

Before I knew it, I had made plans to play tennis with him the next morning and I also learned that we were exactly one day apart in age. He was really nice and very gracious, and I remember that he addressed my parents as Ma’am and Sir. Every single time he spoke with them… You could tell right away that he was a person who had been brought up to respect adults. It was no act.

Charles Barkley was born in Leeds, Alabama and his biological father abandoned the family when he was an infant. His mother ended up remarrying and his stepfather was tragically killed in a car accident when Barkley was 11. His mother was an extremely strong influence in his life and though he never mentioned this to me, I could tell that he definitely felt as though he had accomplished the things he had accomplished as a 22 year old because of her firm presence. Contrast this with me who was the product of a very stable upbringing in San Diego, California. On the surface we really had little in common beyond a love of basketball. And, I had known very few black people growing up in Southern California. Nevertheless, here we were in paradise, 22 years old, with a week to hang out and get to know one another a little bit.

I often tell my kids, and in fact anyone who will listen, that the decade of my 20’s was the most difficult decade of my life. I can tell they are a little shocked when they hear this, yet I can honestly say I prefer 57 to 27 in virtually every way. I had no idea how I was going to “make it” in life and yet I do remember hanging out with Charles Barkley thinking that he had figured it out and it was up and away from here. Quite frankly I was envious and perhaps a little star struck. Fortunately, or unfortunately, life is never quite that linear and simple for him, me, or anyone. What really matters is character and I could tell right away that this new acquaintance from Leeds, Alabama had plenty of that. I could also tell that he was really excited to play a little tennis as his agent Lance was even worse than Charles and he was looking for a little competition.  

I grew up with a tennis court at the house from the time of 7^th grade and I must say I wasn’t super excited to play him as he was, well, really bad. Nevertheless, I acquiesced, and I believe the score was 6-0 6-1. I didn’t let him win a game, he was a phenomenal athlete and super competitive. He earned the one game that he won for what it is worth. I have told the story many times to many people, and I am sure I will always remember it. The courts were right on the ocean and he promptly and unceremoniously hurled his brand-new racquet into the ocean at the end with the comment, “nothing personal man, I just don’t like to lose.” My celebrity record stands at 3-0 as I also have wins over Gary Puckett of Union Gap* fame, as well as a doubles victory over game show host extraordinaire Wink Martindale*. For the record, Wink Martindale was the best of the three and that isn’t saying much. Thankfully for them, none quit his lucrative day job.

After our match, we headed back to his place to check in with his agent Lance. It turns out that Lance Luchnick* would ultimately steal all of the money that Barkley entrusted him to invest. At this place, and at this time, all was copesetic between the two and I do remember that Lance gave me a brand new pair of Nike running shoes as we wore the same size and the room was littered with several brand new pairs (mostly high-tops) in their distinctive orange boxes (for both Charles and Lance). I remember admitting to Charles that I was a big Celtic’s fan though I did feel a little differently since we had met and forged a friendship. Yes, that conversation was a little awkward, yet I do remember him telling me, “I really hate those guys, but I do respect them.” He went on to promise me that he would get me tickets when the 76er’s were in town to play the Lakers. This never happened, yet that wasn’t especially surprising. I do remember that we (my parents and me) did follow his career a little closer as we never forgot the experience of meeting an up and coming NBA star who would go on to become a Hall of Famer and beloved sports broadcast personality.

Charles had his share of regrettable moments off the court as a part of his maturation process including bar fights, a DUI, and solicitation of a prostitute. He was not a perfect man and he never pretended to be one. He once famously (or infamously, depending on your point of view), stated that he was not a role model. A successful Nike ad campaign used that sentiment to brand Charles as a cool, rebellious sort in what now seems like a different world from the perspective of 2020 and PC Woke Politics. To his credit, Charles has openly scoffed at the idea of defunding the police and has come out as a champion of law enforcement. * Not terribly surprising in light of the generation from which his morals and mores were formed. Capitalism has been really good to him and he is smart enough and free thinking enough to see that his hard work and effort had led to monetary rewards beyond the wildest dreams of a kid from Leeds, Alabama. Yes, I am editorializing a tad as I spent a little time with him and have followed him somewhat since. Not really one to play the victim in any, way, shape, or form. Not in his DNA I would suggest… If you saw him play or broadcast, I’m inclined to believe you might concur.

I can’t help but wonder and imagine what it would be like if a modern-day (2020) Charles Barkley and Thomas Cook met in a random encounter like the one that we were lucky enough to enjoy in the relatively simple times of 1985. Though I certainly cannot speak for Charles in my analysis, It seems as though we met, realized we were quite different, judged each on the encounter and not based on what someone told us we should think of each other. Color really never played a role in our brief friendship. Never thought about it… Somehow, I do believe that it would be far different now. And, for me, that is a real shame as we all contend with a rather unpleasant here and now based on viewing the world through vastly different lenses. Meeting Charles is a great memory for me and the family. It is also a reminder for me at age 57, that the world has changed mightily and irreparably. To better days…

* https://www.basketball-reference.com/players/b/barklch01.html

* https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gary_Puckett_%26_The_Union_Gap

* https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wink_Martindale

* https://nesn.com/2015/08/charles-barkley-on-ex-agent-lance-luchnick-id-blow-his-damn-brains-out-video/

* https://www.foxnews.com/media/charles-barkley-dismisses-defund-police-movement

Thomas M. Cook

7/2/20

As I was faced with another day of sticking to my routines, I felt compelled to put some thoughts on paper as this will be a time in our history that will be remembered far beyond the confines of its beginnings and greatly longed for end. There has been a great deal of commentary over the last several weeks that far surpasses my feeble abilities to really add or detract. Much of what we have heard has been political, economic, and medical in scope. Anyone who has paid a modicum of attention has at this point probably heard enough to have formed an opinion good, bad, or indifferent on each respective core element.

My feelings on this are pretty simple. If you liked Trump before all of this came down, you most likely support him as much or more than you did before. If you disliked him before, I would wager you dislike like him as much now and perhaps your dislike is more vitriolic.  If you saw the hand of God in all aspects of life before all of this came down, you most likely continue to see the world that way and perhaps that tendency has increased??? For me I believe it is important to say that God did not cause Covid-19 but He certainly can use it. And thus, ends my attempt to dissect all of this on a higher plane. Anyone who knows me, knows where I stand, and it is not my intention to attempt conversion to God or Trump in this space at this time.

I have been stuck by a plethora of far more trivial insights and observations that I feel the need to memorialize and remember as the sharp, tactile memories will fade quickly with the passage of time; that is simply the way life works. I heard a saying / dialogue once that has always stuck with me and perhaps now is as good of a time as any to introduce it. Kind of a question and answer thing so bear with me.

“What time is it?” “Now”

“Where are you?” “Here”

“What are you?” This moment.”

I wanted to include this as I do believe it is a lesson of Covid-19. The hectic pace of life pre-virus rarely allowed us a moment to live in the moment. Rather, it WAS an existence of continual striving and hurry, consumerism on over-drive, and a belief in the cult of celebrity and wealth, with little time for personal reflection. Now I’m not saying that all of this has been thrown on the trash heap of self-quarantine and social distancing. I am saying that there has been a bit of a (needed) pause that may in fact ultimately lead to a better way. I’m hopeful, yet not overly optimistic as human beings are known for very short memories. Civic Patriotism was a thing after 9-11 for a time. How did that work out? Exactly.

Horace Mann once said the following.

“Be ashamed to die until you have won some victory for humanity.”

I’m not quite sure as to why that was the line that got me writing yet I must say that I have seen little victories all around me in this gigantic, epochal test for humanity. I have also seen some things that have made me laugh quite frankly. Nothing seems to bring out the diversity of human reaction better than a threat that has the power to take life randomly and haphazardly. The following are some of my prosaic, common-place insights in no particular order.

1. Sunny days have ability to make anything a little bit better and more optimistic.
2. Long walks are actually underrated in terms of their ability to soothe the soul and brighten the spirit.
3. I cannot remember the last time I learned so many new words (comorbidity, hydroxychloroquine, quercetin, RO- meaning “R naught,” zinc oxalate)
4. I know it is Spring, but the birds seem happier than usual.
5. When you are forced to change a routine, it is imperative that you start a new routine. Mental health seems to need structure.
6. Seeing young families walking together and coping together, is a beautiful thing.
7. People are friendlier out on the streets. In the context of walking / biking / running…
8. Those people who tend to be optimists don’t stop being optimists. In fact, I believe they become more optimistic when there is every reason to deviate just a little.
9. Those people who tend to be pessimists don’t stop being pessimists. In fact, I believe they become more pessimistic when there is every reason to deviate just a little.
10. Civilians (nonmedical people) put on a mask and instantly suffer a loss of brain cells and/or common sense. Not all, but enough to generalize and call it a trend.
11. Dogs have little ability to curb their enthusiasm in the face of a scary pandemic. This is a good thing.
12. Sharing more time and the same space with your spouse for long periods requires planning and compromise. Don’t get me wrong, it has been great, but it is a subtle dance. Yes, I am trying to be funny to a point.
13. Humans are social creatures, even the introverts. All a matter of degree…
14. I don’t miss sports that much. Being a fan is hard work and often quite aggravating. Refreshing to have that time back…
15. Reading novels is a lost art and that is a shame.
16. I didn’t care for celebrities much before and I care what they think even less now.
17. I’ve never played a video game in my life and thankfully social isolation posed no threat to a streak I continue to build on.
18. A hot bath with Epsom salts and essential oils is one of life’s simple pleasures. I knew that before all of this, but a refresher course has been really great.
19. Social isolation is a great time to ponder great sayings like this one by Friedrich Nietzsche- “He who has a why to live can bear almost any how.” Our “how” has been pretty easy relative to the great scope of history yet the “why” always seems to be pretty similar. Often comes down to people we care about…
20.  “Wherever You are, there You are.” Attitude controls most every situation, good, bad, or indifferent. A change in geography often does not lead to a change in psychology.

Pretty sure I have yet to win any great victories for humanity as of yet. I do believe that times of strife and hardship can turn out to be real blessings in disguise and I for one hope it is possible to retain some of these lessons far beyond the COVID-19 Days.

“Life can only be understood backwards, but it must be lived forwards.”

Soren Kierkegaard

Thomas M. Cook

4/20/20     

John Adams- Born 1735, President 1797-1801, Died July 4^th, 1826, age 90

Thomas Jefferson- Born 1743, President 1801-1809, Died July 4^th, 1826, age 83

 Thomas Jefferson and John Adams may have in fact been America’s original Odd Couple. Not sure if Jack Klugman and Tony Randall’s portrayal of Oscar and Felix do justice to the complexity and intrigue that would personify the Jefferson / Adams association, yet it is certainly fun to coopt the moniker. As a kid attending various history classes, it was certainly standard operating procedure to learn at least a little about two of the best-known men that would end up shaping the formation of a new country. A herculean task which must have seemed a long shot at best and an impossibility at worst to the handful of zealots who dreamed of the creation of something that had in fact rarely existed prior, and required a level of active risk on the part of the dreamers, that would certainly be viewed as treasonous by their mother country. They, as well as many others, were willing to risk their lives (not just on the battlefield as treason was a capital offense) on the long shot gamble, and somehow convince countless fellow citizens that this seemingly dubious undertaking was a good idea. A battle of Lexington veteran years later summed it up pretty well with the simple statement. “They intended to govern us, and we intended to govern ourselves.” It certainly wasn’t quite that simple, yet those words do resonate with a beautiful clarity.

England at the time of the American Revolution (1775-1783) was one of the preeminent military powers in the world. The American colonists were, more or less, a rag tag group of would be citizen-soldiers who chose to take on the biggest and baddest dude on the World block; all while coping with the fact that many of their fellow colonists would remain loyal to England and in fact actively seek to scuttle the best laid plans of the rebelling faction. Added to this major impediment, many Native American tribes chose to side with the British and were encouraged to wage a “no quarter,” guerrilla style war on the fringes of established settlement. Deciphering friend or foe proved to be a tricky and often deadly proposition for both sides. In short, the colonists had no business winning this war; it was a scattered, messy, and often tragic brawl in which defeat seemed a near certainty more often than not.

While in Massachusetts to run the infamous 2013 Boston Marathon with friends, we toured many historical sites around Boston, and I became our unofficial tour guide. I told my fellow travelers that winning that war was comparable to a high school sports team beating a professional sports team. I really do not feel as though this is an exaggeration, in fact it might be an understatement. The prospective, fledgling country had one thing that England didn’t, and that one thing was George Washington. Think Superman, Moses, and Michael Jordan of the 80’s all rolled into one, that gets you part of the way there. As I like to say, story for another day, yet trust me, without Washington’s unbelievable leadership, vision, and perseverance, The United States of America never happens. Washington understood they were fighting for something truly special and he absolutely believed that Providence was on their side both literally and figuratively.  Several years after the conclusion of the war, Washington said the following.

“The Man must be bad indeed who can look upon the events of the American Revolution without feeling the warmest gratitude towards the great Author of the Universe whose divine interposition was so frequently manifested in our behalf.”

 Abraham Lincoln summed it up well within the Gettysburg Address in late 1863, when he spoke about the threat to “government of, by, and for the people.” This was the great experiment which had stirred Revolution era souls and it was a novel and very unwelcome concept for status quo rulers of the day. Old-World Europe, at the time of the Revolution was a feudal society in which one’s birth dictated one’s lifelong station in society. “Those who farm, those who fight, and those who pray” did so at the behest of a noble class which set all the rules. A military loss in The Revolution and I do not believe a “hypothetical Lincoln” would have described it in quite that way, if in fact representative government happened at a later time in the defeated American colonies??? I say hypothetical with regard to Lincoln as I am altering history uncomfortably, to make an important point about the seminal nature of the profound political change being pondered in 1863. Kind of a fun thought experiment, yet it is difficult, if not impossible to consider the prospect, as thankfully the colonists did win the day and set in place a form of government which championed this new concept of a democratic republic rather than an aristocracy. Fancy words for water meets oil to a political scientist…   

As I tell this story it is important to consider that my aim is not to create a work that will necessary appeal to a student of History but rather for someone who has always thought that history is kind of boring and really stale relative to the sophistication and relevance of our own “modern” times. This is in fact, precisely the person I hope to reach. Whether I am successful or not remains to be seen yet know that there is no way in which present times can truly be understood without a decent appreciation of the metaphorical steps and numerous stumbles that got us here. The best part is that a greater understanding is not simply a matter of knowing more about your country; I would suggest that knowing more about this country, will inexorably lead to a truly unique feeling of love and admiration for the distinctive nature of this country. President John F. Kennedy hinted at this love with his iconic “Ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country” plea.  An examination of the Jefferson / Adams saga is great way to start the process, it is truly a story for the ages.

Thomas Jefferson was simply everything that John Adams was not in terms of appearance and countenance. Jefferson was tall and stately; Adams was short and somewhat argumentative by nature. Jefferson was almost certainly an introvert while Adams was a garrulous, loquacious, extrovert by comparison. They first met as delegates to the Continental Congress in 1775. From this point on their trajectories would take on a meteoric ascent as Adams would end up personally endorsing Jefferson as the one to write the Declaration of Independence. Jefferson was a young man of 32 at the time (Adams was seven years his senior). If you haven’t read it, I strongly suggest you do so as the diction is breathtaking, and the candor is inspiring. Reimagination on a grand scale, aided and abetted by a Divine presence that would see it through… Not just words, as the Framers, just like Washington on the fields of battle, truly saw the hand of God in this bold undertaking. And, yes this is a reoccurring theme in the unfolding drama that is difficult to comprehend in a post-Christian world. We often see Jefferson and Adams as spiritual simpletons when in fact they pondered and wrestled with this part of their being / existence in a way that was highly probing, thorough and scholarly. They genuinely believed in God and His ability to use them in an undertaking that was Providential.

The friendship would grow and blossom as both would serve diplomatic missions in Europe during the 1780’s shortly after the loss of Jefferson’s wife Martha at age 33 with whom he had six children during a ten-year period. Interestingly, Martha, on her deathbed, requested that Jefferson never remarry. Adams and his wife Abigail would ultimately console Jefferson while in Europe and view him effectively as family. After the successful prosecution of their diplomatic mission and the war, Jefferson would become the first Secretary of State and Adams would serve as the first Vice President in the administration of George Washington. It was at this point that the friendship began to suffer its first strains and fissures. What was true then, is true now. Politics is a strange business and the winds of change and the pace of events at that time led to an awkward situation by which Adams was Vice President (Vice Presidents in those days were not chosen but assigned based on a second place finish in the election) and largely ignored, and Jefferson was chosen Secretary of State (though he would resign in 1793) while becoming increasingly distrustful of any hint of a too strong central government. Adams would ultimately align himself with the Federalist Party and its adherence to a strong central government, while Jefferson would help establish the newly formed Republican Party. From there things between the two seemed to deteriorate slowly but surely. Not coincidently, the rise / birth of highly fractious political parties coincided with the departure of Washington who refused to run for a third term; there were no term limits at that time. Clearly Washington was the glue that kept the disparate parts together.   

President Number Two for the young republic would become Adams after a hotly contested battle with Jefferson in which some of their growing and evolving differences such as their respective stance on the French Revolution and its ever-growing violence (Jefferson supported it somewhat unconditionally while Adams was appalled by the violent turn) took center stage. Adams ultimately won by three electoral votes. By the rules of the day (1796), Jefferson would become vice president as the runner-up. Adams graciously asked Jefferson to join the administration in order to form a strong bipartisan representation and Jefferson flatly refused. The schism was beginning to widen, yet this was certainly the mildest phase of what would become a true enmity between the two former friends and confidants.

As early as 1793 when Jefferson abruptly resigned as secretary of state and returned to his Monticello estate in Virginia, many historians believe that Adams began to speak euphemistically of Jefferson’s now universally known sexual relationship with the slave Sally Hemmings (DNA evidence has pointed to the fact that Jefferson had at least one and perhaps as many as six offspring between 1790 and 1808). Sally Hemmings was a half-sister of his late wife and the Adams’ would have known her quite well as both Adams and Jefferson served diplomatic missions in Europe during the 1780’s and for a part of his time in Paris, his youngest daughter Polly and Sally Hemmings were a part of Jefferson’s busy household. Hemmings and Polly even stayed with the Adams’ in London after their transatlantic voyage in 1787. At this time, Jefferson and Adams were obviously quite close. Had he confided in Adams as to the nature of the relationship with the young, attractive Hemmings? History will most likely never know the answer to that question, yet we do know that many believe Adams began circulating hints and couched language as to what was going on long before it became sensationalized in the press of the day. Adams felt that Jefferson would in fact return to the presidential stage after the completion of Adams’ first term in 1801 and he was thinking political expediency in a world of numerous political parties vying for supremacy.

The election of 1801 pitted Adams and Jefferson against one another once again and it turned out to be one of the most mean-spirited elections in the history of the country. The aforementioned insinuations about Jefferson’s relations with Sally Hemmings certainly made an appearance as did Jefferson’s supporter’s wild assertions that Adams desired a war with France and descriptions such as having “a hideous hermaphroditical character.” Much of the character assassination was done through surrogates yet it degraded to a shocking degree in light of the fact that the two men had once been so close. After Jefferson’s victory, Adams rushed out of town and headed back to Quincy Massachusetts and his devoted wife Abigail. Shockingly, he did not attend Jefferson’s inauguration (honoring the spirit of peaceful, loyal transition). They would have no correspondence with each other for twelve years (Jefferson served two terms as President, so he wasn’t hard to find). Really stunning even by the poor communication standards of the day… The rift was so bad that even a covert, heartfelt correspondence by Abigail after the death of Jefferson’s daughter Polly in 1804 only served to intensify their estrangement.  It now looked as though their former special relationship would become a sad footnote to American history and an unfortunate, terrible casualty of partisan politics.  

Enter Benjamin Rush, another giant of the American political scene and a fellow signer of the Declaration of Independence. Rush was a prominent physician and has been referred to as the father of American psychiatry. Fortunately, he was a good friend of both men and was ostensibly inspired by a vivid dream to attempt a reconciliation. As early as 1809, he became infatuated with the idea of mediating and ending the acrimonious feud. He stayed in contact with both men and began a duel correspondence in which he suggested to each that the other was anxious to reestablish and in fact resume the friendship. History can certainly forgive Rush for his little subterfuge. It was with Adams that he had shared the dream story about a reconsolidation in which the two men would discuss their shared past (good, bad, ugly) and go on to muse about the current state of affairs, and their thoughts on the future. And, for good measure he added that the two men “sunk into the grave nearly at the same time, full of years and rich in gratitude and praises for their country.” Astonishing, in that this is essentially, exactly what happened. Mere coincidence? Maybe, but then again maybe not.

The opening salvo came in the form of a short New Year’s greeting from Adams to Jefferson in 1812. Over the course of the next 14 years the floodgates would open and the two would exchange 158 letters which are among the most special American artifacts of the post-Revolutionary period. These letters broached a wide variety of topics and in fact allowed the two men to purge the demons of the past, celebrate the accomplishments of the age, and tie it all together in a way that speaks of something greater than themselves and the their fellow conspirators. Adams initial note seemed to defrost the chill of cold relations for Jefferson who in beautiful language speaks of the essence of the events that changed the course of human history.

“A letter from you calls up recollections very dear to my mind. It carries me back to the times when beset with difficulties and dangers, we were fellow laborers in the same cause, struggling for what is most valuable to man, his right of self-government. Laboring always at the same oar, with some wave ever ahead threatening to overwhelm us and yet passing harmless under our bark, we knew not how, we rode through the storm with heart and hand and made a happy port.”    January 21, 1812

More beautiful words have rarely been written. As an old man Jefferson clearly understood the truly miraculous quality of what had been accomplished. They had helped achieve something that defied human logic and after all of the many years, and all of the deep wounds, Jefferson is celebrating the moment with an old friend. And yet “friend” is an inadequate description. I feel it is very interesting that Jefferson chooses the term “laborer.” I believe that Jefferson just as easily could have chosen the term “servant.” I would suggest that he saw them as laboring instruments in the hands of God.

And though they spoke on many topics, and in ways that are at times a bit difficult to understand, they often return to the concept of a type of governance as God intended and in fact aided. In June of 1815, Adams sums it up pretty well with the following statement.

“The question before the human race is, Whether the God of nature shall govern the world by his own laws, or Whether Priests and Kings shall rule it by fictitious Miracles?” Or in other Words, whether Authority is originally in the People?”

Interestingly, Adams clearly did not see priests as the agents of God’s law as he in fact saw them as corrupted by the same abuse of power enjoyed by kings. In a letter of 1817, Adams goes on to say this…

“Without Religion this World would be Something not fit to be mentioned in Polite Company, I mean Hell. So far from believing in the total and universal depravity of human Nature; I believe there is no individual totally depraved. The most abandoned Scoundrel that ever existed, never Yet Wholly extinguished his Conscience, and while Conscience remains there is some Religion… How is it possible that Mankind should submit to be governed as they have been is an inscrutable Mystery.”

I believe that Adams is trying to say that human nature cries out for freedom and choice, and without self-government and a foundational belief in God BOTH are compromised and in fact incomplete. In other words, the little voice inside calls out for the Divine right to be governed by consent rather than decree. For Adams and Jefferson, they were inextricably linked. And, importantly they saw the hypocrisy of a system of faith which could not “bear examination.” (Adams)

Jefferson, in response to Adam’s comments (above) answered in part with the following thought.

“But if the moral precepts, innate in man, and made a part of his physical constitution, as necessary for being a social being, if the sublime doctrines of philanthropism, and deism taught us by Jesus of Nazareth in which all agree, constitute true religion, then, without it, this would be as you say again, ‘something not fit be named, even indeed a Hell’

True religion versus the perversion of what it had become in many cases. Adams and Jefferson were attuned to this in a way that few among their contemporaries fully understood. These were thinkers of the highest order, and I believe that they were cryptically stating what Lord Acton would state in 1887 when he spoke of “power corrupting and absolute power corrupting absolutely.” They were interested in a celebration of true religion and true government which they saw as bound together delicately yet surely. Very difficult to have one without the other and perhaps this is a lesson for modern times… Optimally a separation of church and state was never meant to be a complete decoupling. I truly feel that they envisioned a delicate, symbiotic relationship and never intended a complete polarization. Luckily, we have these letters and are free to judge for ourselves.

And, I would suggest that we are ultimately presented with something even better that works to cement the legacy of these two titans. In summary, they went from being great friends and allies to political foes and bitter enemies, and then back to old (literally and figuratively) friends again. They produced a series of 158 letters that manage to assuage the enmity of the past, eloquently discuss what they accomplished and why they accomplished it, while going into some intellectual nooks and crannies that would have been impossible to understand if not for the letters. Letters, by the way, that would never have been possible without the perseverance of Abigail Adams and one man who saw the importance of a reunion for posterity I would suggest. Benjamin Rush, revealed in a dream (real or imagined matters little) that the two Founders would in fact rekindle a long lost affection, articulate and expand on deep philosophical / theological thoughts, and finally urge each other on to live WELL beyond the life expectancy of the time in order to see the 50^th anniversary of the celebration of the signing of the Declaration of Independence. They died within hours of one another on July 4^th, 1826. Jefferson was 83 and Adams was 90.

Coincidence again??? Maybe but then again maybe not… Interpretation is a private affair as there is no empirical way to prove my suspicion one way or the other. Albert Einstein perhaps said it best with the following thought.

“Coincidence is God’s way of remaining anonymous”

Interestingly, I feel that even God looks for a little insurance at times. Five years later, Founding Father and 5^th President James Monroe died on the same day.

 The remarkable formation of this country and the equally remarkable journey to the exact point of history where we are today are full of odd little occurrences that have helped propel this country in times of need. Though far from perfect in its actions, the IDEAL of America is and always will be something to be admired, and from which we should draw great pride. Adams and Jefferson, as well as an amazing collection of people envisioned something that seemed utterly unimaginable at the time and has been preserved in the form of our Constitution. We celebrate them for reasons that are good and proper. Not because they were perfect, but because they were sufficiently imperfect, we are able a see a little of ourselves in their struggles, triumphs, and vision for the future.   

TMC    March 16 2020

On a recent flight from Palm Springs, California to home in Portland, Oregon I viewed the 2012 movie Chasing Mavericks and was reminded of an old friend I actually think of quite often, though regrettably, I haven’t seen him in many years. The movie, which tells the story of a teenage Jay Moriarity (died one day shy of 23) and his quest to surf the giant waves that occasionally break in this now legendary spot near Santa Cruz, just north of Half Moon Bay in Northern California, brought me back to the days of my own very short lived experience as a novice “surfer” growing up in Del Mar, California (after a move in 7^th grade from Hillcrest near San Diego proper). While my career as a “surfer” was quite short, for my friend JD it became a passion I suppose, and possibly, the 10,000-hour rule worked its magic (theory that you can master anything that you practice for 10,000 hours). However, I believe what ultimately made JD a great surfer and yours truly a pretty dreadful surfer can really be summed up with one word. JD was one of the most fearless people I have ever known. And, one of the most interesting…

Growing up in Southern California during my high school years, I mostly knew three types of kids. Athletes were by far the largest subset in the group of three. I also associated with a fair amount of kids for whom surfing was a passion and a way of life, long before that became a marketable, mainstream thing (even for people who wouldn’t know a surfboard from a paddleboard); these guys, however, were the real deal. The third group was composed of recreational drug users (OK stoners) for whom this became a lifestyle (think Jeff Spicoli of Fast Times at Ridgemont High fame). Marijuana was the drug of choice for most, yet alcohol, cocaine, and psychedelic mushrooms were certainly part of the mix in a descending order of usage. The really interesting part… These distinct groups dabbled in or in fact prioritized somewhat equally one or even all of the identity choices. For example, some of the best athletes I knew were also great surfers who smoked lots of pot. And, most definitely, many of the kids I grew up with at this time, fell strongly into two of the categories. There were a few “one category guys,” yet this was actually rare. One of my very best friends to this day, Scottie W, was a one category guy and a truly great basketball player but had no interest in drugs or surfing. As I reminisce on these days, I am reminded of the need to tell any of my 40 and under readers just how incredibly different (and in my humble opinion) better life was before the advent of the Social Media / Technology Overload world that has become the New Normal. A subject for another day, yet suffice it to say that I feel incredibly blessed to have been young and adventurous in those halcyon days of the mid 70’s to early 80’s. Life was blissfully simple though I can only fully understand this through the hindsight lens of the year 2020 and close to 57 years on the planet. At the time, we couldn’t have imagined the ways in which life’s pace would accelerate. Wouldn’t trade the experience for the world…  

I first met JD during the summer after my sophomore year of high school.  He and his family had moved from a palatial home in Virginia to the then modest coastal town of Solana Beach (not so modest now). According to JD (pretty circumspect, reticent guy), his former place had an indoor wood tiled basketball court, a large swimming pool, and lots of special amenities. As a kid you really don’t think of all the details of adult life with its financial highs and lows which are simply a part of the human experience for most of us. Unbelievably, from the context of then versus now, the move was a massive scale down for the family (North County San Diego was the sleepy sticks in those days). JD’s father was an entrepreneur type from my recollections, and I recall that he had invented a number of board games for Milton Bradley and had made a lot of money, yet something must have happened to precipitate the move. Needless to say, JD fit in nicely as he could certainly check off two of the boxes as he was a great athlete who loved basketball and marijuana with equal fervor. Surfing would come later of course…

At about this time, basketball was a huge part of life. Without going into all of the details and machinations of this topic (of which there were many), suffice it to say that for my core group of friends, basketball was life. We ate, slept, and drank basketball and we often played for hours on end. Though we played in many different places and in many different levels of structured organization from the playground to high school teams, I was lucky enough to be the kid who had a really nice court at his house (built on a tennis court no less). We spent many hours on that court doing battle and it was great.  JD was a really good player and I will always remember a little fade that he had to his shot that made him really tough to guard. The guy was a real warrior on the court, and I remember many encounters both with and against him that served to cement our friendship strongly. He certainly wasn’t the best player I played with, but he was certainly one of the tougher. If the modern plus /minus analytics could have been magically measured at that time, I’m pretty sure his would have been quite good.  A great competitor… Little did I realize at the time; I truly had no idea just how lion-hearted the guy would prove to be.

For whatever reason, and I cannot tell you exactly when this began (though it was early in our high school experience), myself and two of my closest friends decided to try our hand at surfing. Rich, the transplant from New York (7^th grade) and Ray (family home near the ocean in Del Mar) were my partners in crime for this venture (and countless others), and I must say we had a lot of fun in the process. Both Rich and Ray were far more serious about it than myself, yet I do recall that we were all pretty determined to figure it out. I still remember the yellow “rounded pin” board that I inherited from someone I knew who was a really good surfer and had outgrown this rather pedestrian style and had moved on to a “tri-fin swallow tail.” I was happy to have it. From the beginning it was an exercise in humility. We started out by learning to wax our boards and then soon moved on to riding the white water near shore. Sometime thereafter we graduated to attempting to ride puny waves. “Attempt” is the perfect word as it was really difficult. I remember marveling as I watched some of my “old hand” friends make it look so easy. To this day, there are few things I enjoy more than watching talented surfers do their thing. Eventually we graduated to the “inside” nearer to shore and moved to the “outside” where the actual surfers do their thing. Needless to say, a trio of beginners heading out to the real waves is not exactly the fondest desire of the skilled surfers, yet I never felt any noticeable animosity. I must say it was both exhilarating and terrifying, but I also must say one thing really held me back. It dawned on me rather quickly that this surfing thing was really dangerous and that I was clearly a danger to not only myself but those around me as well. Many a time I remember hesitating  on larger days when, with one or two more determined strokes I could have caught the wave, at which point the odds were extremely high that I would proceed to fall and/or “pearl” (a spectacular headfirst wipeout in surfing parlance). And let me tell you, that water could really toss you around like a rag doll. It was a powerful force which often made mincemeat of me both physically and emotionally. I had a healthy dose of what I would like to call “pragmatic fear.” For someone who hasn’t experienced the sheer power of waves it is almost impossible to describe. Seeing it from the shore and experiencing it from where the waves are breaking on a moderately large day, is like seeing the same movie, one in an Omni Max Theater with 3D glasses and the other on a small circa 1975 black and white television with rabbit ear antennas. Mercifully, my career was short though I have continued to love being in the ocean and have become a strong swimmer. Interestingly, my good friend Ray still surfs and has become quite good despite his many attempts to tell us that he isn’t. We all know that he is being modest.  

Back to JD… Around this approximate time, JD realizes that he would also like to learn to surf and he begins the aforementioned painful process. I remember watching him a few times and I was astonished by how terrible he was, and also by the horrific wipeouts he was willing to endure. JD seemed to be completely devoid of even a dose of “pragmatic fear.” I thoroughly enjoyed watching him as it was darn funny to witness his spectacular and truth be told, dangerous wipeouts. Never seemed to faze him; he was having the time of his life. In retrospect, it now reminds me a little of a Rocky Balboa fight. The more punishment and abuse he took, the more he seemed to thrive. It made no sense. Not quite sure how he didn’t drown.

At about this same time, JD in keeping with the interesting side that I mentioned earlier, gets his first job at a cash station pumping gas. Now remember that JD was quite fond of marijuana “consumption” and that he had an older brother that was everything that JD wasn’t. Quite frankly, he seemed to be a bit of a bad seed who would eventually run into some real trouble as a result of his prolific drug usage and transacting. I believe he spent some time in jail and I am a little unsure as to how JD escaped a similar fate.

I remember seeing JD at my house for a basketball game and he tells me that he has quit his job at the gas station after receiving his first meager paycheck. Soon after that, it would be not uncommon to see JD with his pockets stuffed with cash looking like he had just rolled out of bed. He always looked a little unkempt so that was not terribly unusual, yet the added feature of cash wads, added a comical air to the new optics. JD was selling marijuana and who knows what else with his older brother. Something tells me; this probably wasn’t the first time. Also, around this same timeframe, JD noticed that I played a lot of tennis. Remember our house had a tennis court. So, one day while at my house with a couple of friends, he asked me if I would like to play a set. Possibly we were hanging around the pool or perhaps he just stopped by unexpectedly. I mention this because he was barefoot. I remember looking at him thinking he was nuts. I had played a lot of tennis in my life and he had no shoes or a racquet. I knew JD was a little crazy, but what was he thinking? I dismissed it and yet he persisted. He mentioned that he had played a little bit over the years though he didn’t even own a racquet. Finally, I relented and agreed to play a set with him, expecting to wipe the court with him. Instead I ended up having to work really hard to beat him 6-3 (barefoot and using a borrowed racquet!) Classic JD I must say… Flash forward several years, and he was routinely beating me, and it drove me nuts at the time. I can still see him unloading his pockets of crumbled cash, often losing some of it as he headed down the glassy slope to the court before our match. I would pick it up and point it out as he often seemed oblivious to it. I look back on it now and smile though at the time I still couldn’t believe that this relatively inexperienced player had gotten so good. At least he now wore shoes!!!

JD and I continued to become good friends and despite that fact, as so often happens in life, we ended up eventually heading our separate ways and sort of lost contact with one another. I ended up in Santa Barbara to study History and JD headed to Humboldt State to study Accounting (yes you read that right). I definitely thought of JD, but I certainly did not see or hear from him.

Several years later I remember bumping into a mutual friend who had also gone to HSU, and he told me a story of a day in Humboldt when huge waves pumped into the area. This is not a terribly unusual thing as big surf is common in the area (just north of Santa Cruz). This was not your average big surf day; this was a day that brought in monster waves from some type of El Nino event. He described how people crowded the best vantage points watching as a mere three extremely brave and crazy surfers ventured out to take on the huge walls of water. And, yes, you guessed it, one of the three was none other than JD. According to the story, JD held his own and managed to ride these towering waves with great skill! From knowing the guy, I would have expected nothing less. And, it really made me proud as JD was a special dude among many special people I have known during my life.

Years later, after marriage and kids for both of us, I ran into JD though I do not recall the circumstances. The only reason I remember it at all has to do with the fact that he had become a high-level auditor for the IRS!!! You gotta love the irony. I wonder if he ended up claiming any of the cash transactions that were such a large part of his early employment history? Doing a little extra research via the magical world of the internet, I learned that JD went on to get a master’s degree, and that after 25 years of government work that included contract accounting, auditing, consulting, and training, he started his own CPA firm.

 Life would in fact be far less interesting without the presence of a JD type in everyone’s life. Most of us observe from a safe distance (both literally and figuratively) and marvel at the extreme contrast with which these precious few live their lives. Secretly, I believe most us wish we had a little of what people like JD seem to have in abundance. The Jewish word chutzpah comes relatively close to describing these traits, yet I do not feel as though it quite captures the essence. For me and my relatively simple mind, I feel it is the perfect blend of crazy and determined. Or said another way, perhaps simply crazily determined…      

Thomas M. Cook

2/1/20