I attended a fund raiser this week and bumped into an old friend, for whom I have great affection and respect. We found a small table in a quiet corner and over a beer caught up on what each of us had been up to over the past couple of years. I was not surprised that his life has been going well—two handsome teenage children, a strong marriage and a successful business career.

Nor was I surprised when he turned to me and commented, “And can you believe how outrageous all this stuff about Trump is?”

I nodded and acknowledged that I was obsessed by the whole situation.

Then he said, “ It is all the press’s fault. They won’t leave him alone. They won’t just let him be Trump. The Democrats and the elite liberals are just a bunch of sore losers…”

This was when I felt my heart sink into my stomach.

He surely must have known that I would not agree but continued, “Joe, as you know I have voted for Democrats more than I have Republicans and am an Independent. But I have to tell you until the Democrats figure out the hurt that exists in this country and the genuine admiration people have for Trump–especially the white working class and the Evangelicals– they will never take back the Congress or elect another president.”

What?

I had two choices. First, I could take him on and in fact made a feeble effort to argue that tax cuts for the rich, cutting 30 million people off of health insurance, and ripping apart the social safety net was not the answer for the problems of the white working class. He shook his head and held his ground, “The liberal elites just do not understand and don’t get it. Until they do, the situation will continue to be hopeless…”

So I moved to Choice 2. We changed the subject and talked about the Nats.

My friend is college educated. He grew up in a working class family and today by any standard is a success. He and his wife both have good, high paying jobs. They live in a beautiful house in a very nice neighborhood. He supports charities, attends church regularly and is community-minded.

And he supports Trump.

So do something like 40% of the rest of the country.

Why am I not able to understand this? Perhaps I have lived in Washington for too long and associate mainly with like-minded people. Perhaps it is because I do not recognize my own prejudices. Maybe I am one of the hated elites.

I still do not have an answer. As some of you may know, my book on the white working class, Hard Living on Clay Street, has just been re-released with a new banner on the cover, “If you want to understand why Trump got elected, read this book.” I am doing a book talk on Sunday when I am supposed to offer insights about why the white working class voted for Trump. I will offer the suggestion that the people I wrote about in my book had very difficult lives and did not perceive how the federal government did much to help them out. In those days the emphasis was more on race issues than class issues, and they felt looked down on and abandoned.

I suspect some of the same feeling is behind the support for Trump today. Now the culprit seems to be immigrants and the elusive global economy, which sends jobs overseas. I sort of get that.

But what I do not get is how solid middle and upper income people with good jobs and nice houses can support Trump and the policies which he is promoting. I do not get how many genuinely seem to love and admire this outrageous narcissist and self absorbed egotist. How can Evangelicals, of all people, who are deeply religious and say that they want to follow the example of Jesus, see Trump as their hero? Why do they hate Hillary so much? Why do they hate Obama?

But what I do know is this: The 40 percenters who are sticking by Trump as his presidency seems to be unraveling are not all bad people. In fact I am sure the vast majority are good people, like my friend. When you aren’t talking politics they would not appear to be all that different from people who can’t stand Trump. They want the same thing out of life that we all want—decent jobs and good careers, loving families and relationships, decent homes and neighborhoods, financial and health care security and opportunities for our children. But I also know that when you do start talking politics there is a deep divide that somehow we have to figure out a way to overcome.

And I also know this. We are in a very fragile situation right now for which there does not appear to be an obvious happy ending. In my view Trump is a disaster and not fit to be president. If he is impeached or quits, the 40 percenters will push back. If that were to happen, my friend warned me, “It’s Katy bar the door.”

 

 

Visit me on Substack!
Subscribe to my Substack!

In the early 1970s soon after we moved into our Macomb Street house in DC, I met a neighbor named Bill Christenberry. We soon discovered we had a shared interest in photography. At the time I was heavy into black and white photography in the Henri Cartier-Bresson and “Family of Man” genre. I had a Pentax SLR camera and a darkroom where I did my own printing. Photography was a bit of an obsession.

After telling him all about my great photography equipment and how serious I was, Bill replied, in his quiet and modest way,  that he took all his photos with a Kodak Brownie Hawkeye box camera and sent his film for developing and printing to the local drug store. Clearly a lightweight, I remember thinking smugly. What did he do with the photos when he got them back, I remember asking, to which he replied, “Oh, I mount some of the good ones and send them off.”

When I told the story to another neighbor a few days later, the neighbor responded, “And do you know where he sends them off to? Art galleries in New York and London and the Museum of Modern Art! That’s where.”

Last week Embry and I attended his memorial service at the Cochran Museum where he taught painting and photography for over forty years and where over 500 people had gathered to honor and remember him. Someone commented that every art critic in Washington was there along with a bunch from New York. One person I talked to said she was responsible for arranging one of his exhibitions in London. As several of the speakers pointed out, Bill Christenberry, along with Walker Evans and Bill Eggleston, was one of the great American photographers of the Twentieth Century. His extraordinary photographs are mainly of his beloved Hale County, Alabama—and mainly old, often abandoned buildings. As people spoke, some of his best photos appeared on a screen behind the speaker. The effect was stunning.

I could not help thinking how often we confuse photography equipment with the eye of the person who clicks the camera. That is what great photography always has been about and always will be.

As many of you blog readers may know, I am planning a “50 Year Retrospective” of my photography and have asked my brother-in-law, Mike Martin, to exhibit some of his drawings as well. Mike is a poet and writer along with being a visual artist. He is the real artist in the family. I have sent out “save the date” emails only to local folks since I do not want anyone to feel they should have to come a great distance to see the exhibit. But, of course, everyone and anyone, is welcome. (June 24 opening in the Katzen Arts Center at AU, 5-7, exhibit up through August 5).

But I also have to say that I feel a bit like an imposter. Thinking of Bill Christenberry—and we have other famous artist friends like Dickson Carroll—how pretentious can I be to think that my photographs deserve to be in an exhibit? The answer to that question–from someone who is now 75 –is, quite simply, that does not matter. Taking photographs over the years has been a part of who I am—and at my age, it is now or never. My photography is what it is, and for better or worse, I am proud of it—fully understanding that it does not begin to match up with the photographs taken by some who have shot photos with Brownie Hawkeye cameras and sent their film for processing and printing at local drug stores.

 

 

Visit me on Substack!
Subscribe to my Substack!

“They are here,” read the email which we received from our daughter. “They” referred to a refugee family, who moved into her family’s basement apartment about a week ago. The husband is from Afghanistan and the wife from Iran, and they have two young girls, a three-year-old and a six-year-old, both very cute children whom our eight-year-old granddaughter described as “sweet but a handful.” When we made our first visit to meet them last week, we were not sure what to expect.

We hardly had a chance to sit down before the door to the basement opened slowly and out bounded two beautiful children followed by a smiling mother probably in her mid to late thirties, wearing a headscarf. The younger child raced over to Embry and gave her a big hug around her knees and then came over to me and did the same. The older one was a bit shy and stood off to the side sporting a broad grin. The mother gave Embry a big hug and extended me a hand. Immediately they felt like family. The father emerged a short time later, a bit more reserved but smiling broadly and extending a hand.

So here they are. Since no one speaks a word of English (well, maybe a few words, and my daughter’s husband has an app on his iPhone which translates English into Farsi, and the wife has a similar device), it was a bit hard to communicate. However, it was not hard to miss what seemed, to me anyway, like overwhelming joy. They were here. They were in America. They had made it.

Yesterday Embry brought the family a stroller and two American Girl dolls (with numerous outfits) donated by some of our friends and spent the better part of the day with them, taking the mother shopping and helping out where needed. When they returned from the grocery store, they would not let Embry leave. The mother plunged into the small kitchen, the father spread a tablecloth on the floor (even though they have a table), and within a few minutes food miraculously appeared, carried from the kitchen by the father. Then more food. Embry was beckoned to sit on the floor, and the feast began. Embry said she had never tasted any food from the Middle East that was so delicious.

How they got here is a long story, which will come out as they learn to speak English. From the social worker assigned to help them, we learned that their life has been difficult but not as difficult as what many refugees go through. At some point the father must have worked for the U.S. in Afghanistan (which we presume is the reason for his visa) but fled Afghanistan for Iran, where he met his wife to be. The wife’s father rejected the marriage, threatened to kill him, forcing them to flee on foot over the mountains to Turkey. That was over five years ago. We do not know yet what their circumstances were in Turkey, but they could not have been good. There probably was a period in a refugee camp, perhaps some time homeless or as squatters. This will all come out in good time.

As I was thinking about the hardships they must have experienced, I saw before me four seemingly, remarkably happy people. How could they have gone through all this and kept up their spirits? How could the children seem so natural and outgoing and well adjusted?

Their struggle is far from over. They all have to learn English. It is not clear if the father is actually able to read. (He also suffers from double vision.) And the financial support they receive from our government is quite meager and lasts for only for three months. They have got to find jobs, get their kids into day care and school and somehow make enough money to pay rent and get food on the table. They know few here in the U.S. They have limited support from a caring but overwhelmed social worker and have no host family or network as many refugees have. I can’t help wondering how I could ever have survived such challenges.

But then I realize that this is what has made America what we are. We all have ancestors who migrated here, many, sadly, against their own will. There were casualties, but many made a good life for themselves in the New World. They overcame extraordinarily difficult circumstances.

I am proud of our country for welcoming immigrants. The United States has taken in so many people like these families. If you go back far enough you may find that the story of your ancestors was not all that different. This is what America is—a nation of immigrants and refugees, who came here in search of a better life. For many this was their last and only hope. That so many made a good life for themselves here is both a testament to the decency of the American people and to the extraordinary courage and determination of those who arrived—and continue to arrive. I understand the issue is controversial today and hope that our Congress will find a sensible and fair solution. But this post is not about politics. It is about the human spirit. The story of this refugee family occupying that basement apartment is testimony to the indomitable human spirit.

 

 

 

Visit me on Substack!
Subscribe to my Substack!

This interview took place between Faux News (FN) and the President of the United States today at noon.

FN: Thank you, Mr. President, for agreeing to be interviewed. I understand that we are now the only news media that you will talk to or that your staff is allowed to talk to. We are very honored. My first question is this: why did you fire Comey.

Trump: Well, I needed to fire someone, and his number came up. Did you follow “The Apprentice”? I fired someone every week, and my fans loved it. In fact if a week goes by and I don’t fire someone, I just don’t feel right. And look at what happened to “The Apprentice.” Ruined since I left, and everyone misses me, especially my base. They love it when I fire someone, and believe me, there will be more. Ratings always go up. There will be a lot more.

FN: But why Comey? You praised him just a short time ago and called him a statesman. Why did he deserve to have his number come up?

Trump: The awful things he said about Hillary. You know, the emails. He should never have done that.

FN: I thought you hated Hillary.

Trump: No. She should be locked up, but I do not hate her.

FN: Why should she be locked up?

Trump: Because of all those emails.

FN: But you just said that Comey was not nice to her because he should not have brought up the emails.

Trump: He wasn’t nice to her, but once he said it, he should have locked her up–and believe me, whoever I appoint in his place will get the job done. Into the slammer she will go, and she won’t see the light of day for years.

FN: But some are saying that this has something to do with the Russia investigation.

Trump: What Russia investigation?

FN: The one the FBI is working on.

Trump: I am not aware of any investigation about Russia by the FBI, and I was told three times by Comey that I was not the subject of it. I am clean. Jared is clean. Ivanka is clean. Everybody is clean. So I do not know what you are talking about, and if you ask another disrespectful question like that, I am not going to talk to you either.

FN: But what about Flynn?

Trump: Never heard of him.

FN: Or Roger Stone?

Trump: Him either.

FN: Paul Manafort?

Trump: Who?

FN: But they are front page news. Flynn even worked for the Trump Administration.

Trump: Not that I know of. You hear about that only from the fake news which now includes just about everybody but Breitbart and Faux News. The fake news media are all trying to get me, and my base won’t stand for it. They know me. They love me. They are cheering right now. I am decisive, a man of action. This is what they elected me for, and they will stand by me no matter what. I am changing Washington, draining the swamp. I am great and I will be great and I will be popular. Just wait until the new polls come out. Now this interview is over. I am heading back to find someone else I can fire who might be working on the so called Russia connection which is just a lie by the fake news media.

FN: Thank you, Mr. President. You will always be number one at Faux News.

 

 

 

Visit me on Substack!
Subscribe to my Substack!

Embry and I are standing in a dark, decaying brick building near the Charleston, South Carolina, waterfront. Around us are some forty people—mainly our age and almost all Presbyterians, many retired ministers and their wives, and all from the Deep South. We are touring “heritage Presbyterian Churches” in low country Georgia and South Carolina. In front of us is a short, stout, older African American woman, who is talking with energy and conviction—not about churches, but about the legacy of slavery, Jim Crow and the vestiges of racism, which still prevail throughout our society, not just in the Deep South. The ancient structure we are in is where male, African slaves were imprisoned before they were put up for sale in another historic building a few doors away. We are told they were crammed into this grimy, dank space like sardines.

Sure, we all know about slavery and reconstruction and the civil rights movement, but it is one thing to read about these things in text books and another to listen to people talk about what their great, great grandparents experienced. Hearing first hand from so many African Americans whose ancestor’s lives were directly affected by slavery makes it seem real and immediate.

What has made this tour special is that we have seen as many African American Churches as white churches and have learned from church members both white and black. Having also just read The Underground Railroad, I despair that we in America—especially in the Deep South—were responsible for one of the worst actions in all of human history. Slaves were considered property and were treated as such. Yes, of course, you reply, that is what slavery is. But to hear the stories told by black people in those churches moves it from the academic to the personal and emotional. Slavery happened in our country, and if it did not happen on our watch, it happened on the watch of our great or great, great grandparents.

We also know that it happened in Christian churches. Every white church we visited had a slave gallery. Devout Christians with conviction participated and encouraged the institution of slavery. Many church members owned slaves. Others bought and sold them. They made fortunes. Some churches even owned slaves. And at the time, few saw any contradiction between this and their Christian faith. Most are people we would refer to as “good people.” If we had lived in Charleston or Savannah or any of the country towns we visited, would we have been any different?

Despite the grim past, I was especially inspired by the warmth, enthusiasm, optimism and hope of the black church members. Given the awful history of slavery and racism, I could not help wondering how they could be so positive. That they are positive, however, says a lot. While much work remains to be done on race relations—a whole lot of work—when we hear first hand what it meant to be black in the Eighteenth and Nineteenth Centuries, we know we have come a long way.

Everyone in our group was born and raised in the South, most in the Deep South. I do not believe there was anyone in our group who was not profoundly affected or who would have considered putting up any defense in behalf slavery or Jim Crow. We  thankfully have moved beyond that –at least among our group of retired ministers and active churchgoers. We get it. What we do about it is, of course, another question –especially given the times we are in today when hate speech and hate crimes are on the upswing and when we have a president whose own behavior and tweets encourage these actions.

Toward the end of our tour we met at the (white) Second Presbyterian Church in Charleston. Our speaker was Anthony Thompson, an African American Episcopal priest at Holy Trinity Reformed Episcopal Church in Charleston. Two years ago his wife, Martha, was leading a Bible study group at Emmanuel AME Church when she along with eight others was gunned down by a white supremacist. The Episcopal minister spoke for almost 45 minutes as we sat on the edges of our seats in the sanctuary of this aged church with its slave gallery. You could hear a pin drop. He talked about forgiveness and how forgiveness is important for victims to be able to go on with life. He was genuine and sincere. There was no hint of bitterness. Part of his ministry today is to preach forgiveness and understanding on issues related to racism. No one said a word as we departed the church.

Like practically everything else on this remarkable journey, Anthony Thompson’s words were not an academic exercise. He made the concept of forgiveness real and tangible. We left the church along with our fellow pilgrims overwhelmed and exhausted. We wondered how he could do this, how he could keep going with a positive spirit, after all he has been through. He said his Christian faith was the reason, and I suspect faith had something to do with the hope and optimism of the African American church members we talked to. Whatever the source, we were inspired and renewed. Embry and I returned home with thanksgiving for having met such wonderful people, both black and white, and–despite the challenges facing our country–with hope for the future.

Visit me on Substack!
Subscribe to my Substack!

Perhaps never before in all of human history has one person accomplished so much during the first 100 days of being the President of the United States. All the pundits are weighing in with unanimous accolades. Here is our exclusive interview with our president:

Faux News (FN); “So Mr. President, how do you rate your presidency so far?”

Trump: “The greatest ever. No one has ever done so many great things in such a short period of time.”

FN: “Let’s start with domestic policy. What have you accomplished so far?”

Trump: “More than anyone. Ever. Three new hotel sites in DC are in the works, and my luxury hotel in the Old Post Office building is booked for the next three years at rates that you would not believe. Just since I have been president, we have raised the rates four times, and now they start at $800/ night. Just about every country in the world has a room booked at some point over the next four years. Is that progress or what? Got Trump hotels, restaurants, resorts going up all over the U.S.”

FN: “But what about your base—the common men and women who love you so much?”

Trump: ”Hotels in the works in Wisconsin, Ohio and Pennsylvania. Jobs, jobs, jobs.”

FN: ”But aren’t you trying to kill Obamacare and rip apart the social safety net?”

Trump: ”Absolutely. My base will get their health care through their employers, and there won’t be any need for any safety net because everyone will have a job. Might not pay all that much, but a job is a job. There will be jobs in the Deportation Force, in the new prisons that will house all the illegal immigrants we are rounding up, and in coal mining and gas station attendants.”

FN: “But what about your tax reforms which seem to be targeted to the rich?”

Trump: ”I am rewarding the job creators who hire the low life people who voted for me. That is who deserves it, and my base understands that. My base will always love me, no matter what I do. Just look at the polls.”

FN: “Why do they love you when you actually are helping the rich?”

Trump: ”Two reasons. First, I will make America great again and they know that. In fact I have already made it great again. I lead from the front, not the back, and I kick ass. Just ask anyone. Second. Trickle down. The money that I and my family and rich friends make trickles down, and my base will get their fair share. It is not all that much, but more than they currently make. And they will love me for it. Anyway I do not have to do anything for these people. I could shoot them and they would still love me. Some of them think I am a god, which when you really get down to it, I am. Who has ever done so much for so few in such a short period of time?”

FN: ”What about foreign policy?”

Trump: “Terrific success. Hotels, golf courses and resorts going up in China and Russia and Turkey and Egypt and just about everywhere. I even have Rex working on something in North Korea. That is really the only reason I have not nuked them. But I might just go ahead and nuke them anyway. But so far you have got to admit that no one has ever done so much to show the world we are number one. Plus, I pretty much have eliminated terrorism. No terrorist has attacked the U.S. the entire time I have been president. Compare that to what happened under Obamacare.”

FN: “But you really have not gotten any legislation through congress.”

Trump: “Since when was that important? I don’t need them. I am ruling by executive order; and if I had my way, frankly, I would ditch the whole lot of them, Republicans as well as Democrats. In fact I may ditch them. This is a new presidency. I am ruling like no one before. I am making America great again. This is why I won by the greatest margin in U.S. history—to drain the swamp and stick it to all those elitist liberals who don’t understand the common man like I do.”

FN: “But what about all the government positions that are going vacant? You have hardly hired anyone.”

Trump: “And I am not going to. We don’t need them. Jared can handle most of the stuff with some help from Ivanka. I ran my company this way, and the way I see it this is just another family business.”

FN:” But you just told Reuters that things were more complicated than you at first thought. That it was actually harder than running your business.”

Trump:” I was misquoted by the no good media. They hate me and they say bad things about me. Very bad. Very, very bad. Frankly, I hate all the media except, of course, for Fox News and Breitbart, and they are the only ones that tell the truth. The others should be banned and will be banned as soon as I can get around to it. But I do not really have all that much time to do everything all at once and right now I have people waiting for me at the first hole tee. So got to go.”

FN: “Thank you, Mister President. Thank you for making America great again.”

 

 

 

Visit me on Substack!
Subscribe to my Substack!

I am pleased to announce that a third edition of Hard Living on Clay Street, a book I wrote in 1971, is now available on Amazon with a new “Preface 2017” and a new “Epilogue 2017.” My daughter, Jessica, who lives in the Clay Street neighborhood with her family, wrote the Epilogue. Many of my blog followers may know of the book and some I know have read it. Originally published by Doubleday in 1973, the book has been in continuous print (except I think for one year) ever since. Waveland Press, who picked up the book after Doubleday, decided to come out with a 2017 edition due to all the interest in the white working class, many of whom voted against their self interests in helping elect Trump. Why did this happen? Who were these voters? The inscription on the cover, written by Joan C. Williams of the University of California, Hastings School of Law, says, “You want to understand why Trump won the 2016 Election? Read this book.”

I hope that you will give it a look on Amazon and spread the word that a new edition with 2017 updates is available.

Visit me on Substack!
Subscribe to my Substack!

Yesterday was Palm Sunday. Embry and I attended All Souls Episcopal Church where we have been loyal members since the mid 80s. The Palm Sunday service is my favorite—especially when the Passion Narrative is sung, which it was–and beautifully done–yesterday. What was also significant, however, were the words of our new rector, encouraging us to lay off politics during Holy Week, and to try to cut down on watching, listening to or reading the news. Just ease off and go slow and discern the meaning of Holy Week. Wise counsel.

So in this blog you are not getting my latest Trump outrage. You are getting religion.

Fear not, however. I will tread easy.

Talking about religion and faith has never been my strong suit. I recall the incident that occurred a number of years ago when Embry and I were church shopping in the 1970s, not long after we moved to DC. One chilly spring morning we ended up at what had been described to us as a progressive Episcopal church and found ourselves thrust into discussion groups dealing with the passage, “Man can’t live by bread alone but only by the very word of God.” Embry and I were assigned to different groups. When my turn came to speak, my heart was beating fast. I can’t recall my exact words, but a well-dressed man in his forties interrupted me and exclaimed in what I perceived to be a hostile tone, “Well, exactly what do you believe anyway?”

I was taken aback. What did I believe? I paused for a moment and tried to organize my thinking. Ok, he asked for it. This was my big chance. Flashing through my mind were all the classes in theology and the Bible that I had taken at Union Seminary, taught by the most renowned scholars in Christendom. I thought of the deep discussions with Union classmates and my faith journey and decided to go deep, to reach down into my inner soul, and to speak with profound feeling and honesty. In short, I let it all hang out. As my testimony unfolded, I surprised myself as to how genuine and authentic I must be sounding and how everything that I had studied and everything I believed miraculously seemed to fall into place. I completed my testimony with a satisfaction that actually surprised me. There. I had said it.

“Is that it,” asked the well-dressed man. “Is that what you believe?”

I nodded with a smug smile.

“Well,” he said, “If that is what you believe, why don’t you just join the Democratic Party?”

Everyone in the group was staring at me with astonished expressions. An elderly lady in the group turned to her neighbor and commented in a stage whisper, “He is just the kind of person we have been trying to drum out of this church.”

As you might conclude, despite its reputation as being progressive, this church was not a good fit for us. (I learned later that they were in a transition period with a big fight going on between the “progressives” and those who wanted to turn back the clock.)

You might also ask the question, why do you go to church anyway? What is it that keeps you attending when you could be sailing or walking in the woods? While I admit that sometimes I ask myself the same question—and there are surely a lot of good, social reasons such as being part of a loving, diverse community—there are religious–or spiritual– reasons as well.

It basically boils down to answering another question: what are the alternatives. Not the alternatives with regard to how I spend my time but the alternatives as to making any sense out of the universe and our place in it. The major leap of faith is to believe that there is actually meaning and purpose to our lives on this planet, not simply random chance. Once you make this leap, I believe that there are many paths you can take on a spiritual journey. All are not the same, and some, I believe, are decidedly better than others. Christianity is one path. It is the path I was born into and part of my growing up and part of our Western culture. It is a path rooted in love and acceptance and offers a road map for ethical behavior and hope that our actions–and our lives– are not for naught. On really good days it offers a connectedness with something both within and beyond that tells us the universe is good and that our lives are important, that we are loved. This something is really hard to describe. The word we usually use for it is “God.”

Holy Week is the most important week in the life of the Christian Church because it honors the human who lived over two thousand years ago in what is now Israel and whom his followers believed embodied the spirit we call God. After he died, his followers believed he continued to live. Others who did not even know Jesus of Nazareth also believed this to be true and that his spirit could be experienced by ordinary people. The experience of his early followers led them to believe that he was both human and divine—that he was God.

The rest is history. There are more than two billion people on the planet Earth who call themselves Christians (or at least are characterized as such)—more than any other religion. This is the week that they (we) will “relive” the last week of his life through liturgy and worship telling the Christian story: the glorious entry of Jesus of Nazareth into Jerusalem (Palm Sunday), the “last supper” with his disciples (Maundy Thursday), his betrayal and crucifixion (Good Friday), and finally his resurrection on Easter Day. While I still admit there are as many questions as answers and while the history of the Christian Church has had its share of dark days, the Christian faith has nourished and changed the lives of billions of ordinary people, providing hope and a beacon for what is good and right on the planet Earth. I am one of those ordinary people.

This is not exactly what I said on the chilly morning way back when in that unwelcoming Episcopal Church, but it is pretty close.

So add to my “thanksgivings” in my last post, “Holy Week, 2017.” And by the way, if you are thinking about posting a comment, I am already a Democrat. I joined the Democratic Party the week after my testimony in the mid 70s.

 

 

 

Visit me on Substack!
Subscribe to my Substack!

Today is April Fools Day. Seventy-five years ago on this day I was born in Nashville, Tennessee, to the son of a banker, who himself was the son of a banker, and to a mother whose father owned the two largest Ford dealerships in the country and was a millionaire many times over before his drinking got the best of him and he died penniless toward the end of the Great Depression, his body found in an alley in Chicago.

Today I am counting my blessings. This is what we old folks do when we reach milestones like this. Don’t be fooled. It is hard for anyone at this advanced stage in life not to ask silently, How many more years have I got left—ten, twelve? How many good years—five or six? One of my mother’s favorite sayings was “life is too short.” She got that one exactly right. Where did it all go? It just seemed like yesterday….

One of my favorite sayings is that what life is all about is how you play the cards you have been dealt. We all know that all hands do not contain the same cards. I could have been born to a destitute family in Bangladesh or to a single parent struggling with a heroine addiction, trying to get by in a poverty stricken neighborhood in Chicago or Baltimore. But I wasn’t. I was dealt a fabulous hand and for this I am profoundly grateful. I have been blessed.

So here are my cards:

1. Growing up in the United States of America. Embry and I have done a lot of traveling, and between the two of us have visited something like sixty countries. There are a lot of great countries on this small planet, but the U.S. is special with our diversity, optimism, and belief in individual freedom and the American Dream that anyone can make it who tires hard. Of course, that is not entirely true for everyone, but the country I was born and grew up in still represents something special on this planet. (My blog obsession in writing about Trump is due to my fear that this is being threatened, but enough of that for today.)
2. Two loving parents, grounded in their community, civic minded, and with strong values and deep religious convictions—especially my mother. They always supported me, and I knew they always loved me. When I became something of a persona non grata when I got involved in the Civil Rights Movement, they never blinked an eye. When at Nashville cocktail parties, a friend would console my mother with a comment like, “It’s not your fault that he turned out the way he did and you should not feel responsible,” she would respond with,”Well actually we are very proud of our son.”
3. A strong marriage to a strong, independent-minded woman who shared my values and interests. I still am amazed we married so young, but that is what people did in those days before the sexual revolution. We were basically children. I was twenty-three, and Embry (or “Mimy” as she was known in those days) was barely twenty. What this meant was that we grew up together and changed together. (When we married I had no idea that my young wife would become an ardent feminist. In fact there was no such thing in 1965.) We lived with a black family in Georgia in the Civil Rights Movement. We experienced the magic of living in New York City in the mid 60s and we had our year in 1970 living on “Clay Street.” (The book that came out of that is now in its 45^th year with a third edition coming out in two weeks.) We started our careers together in Washington and lived for 44 years in an old “granny house” in Cleveland Park, a DC neighborhood that must be one of the best in world. We have had more adventures than anyone could ask for—sailing all over the world, our around-the-world-no airplanes adventure, and travels to so many exotic and interesting countries.
4. Our children and grandchildren. As some of you may know, we lost our first child, Katherine, who died at age eleven months from a heart defect. That card was not a good one, but behind that came Andrew, now 47 and Jessica, now 43, who have married wonderful people, produced four of the world’s greatest grandchildren, have solid careers, strong values, and are doing great things.
5. My friends. I am what might be called a pathological extrovert. Friends are enormously important, and I have been blessed with the best anyone could ask for. I still keep up with friends from high school, college, two graduate schools, and with our neighborhood and work friends and others we have met along the way. This includes, of course, my three first cousins and their families, Embry’s first cousins, and her two brothers and their families and their children and children’s children. So friends and extended family are very important part of any hand of cards, and I am profoundly grateful for these people that have meant so much to me over the years and still do.
6. My work. Work is such an important thing when you think about how many hours of the day that is what you do. I had some trouble figuring out what I wanted to do at first. Because of my parent’s active faith and leadership roles at Christ Episcopal Church in Nashville, I was sort of programmed to become an Episcopal priest and at one point was convinced that is what I wanted to do. After graduating from Davidson, I attended Union Seminary in New York City where I got a Masters of Divinity degree. I like to tell people that I was excluded from ministry by an old-school bishop, who exclaimed at one of our meetings, “Hell, son, you don’t belong as a priest. You don’t even believe in God!” To which my response was, “Since when did THAT ever keep any one out of the Episcopal ministry?”

But that is actually fake news. We did have a meeting of the minds that my interests were less about church stuff and more on civil rights, the peace movement and rebuilding our inner cities. This was in 1968 when the lower income neighborhoods in many cities were in fact burning down, and the Vietnam War was raging. So following seminary I went to the School of City and Regional Planning at UNC Chapel Hill, and the rest is history. It could not have been a better fit or place for me and pointed me to what became a very fulfilling career.

I worked in the field of real estate and housing development. I had fabulous early jobs where I learned on the job and then started Howell Associates in 1981. The company provided real estate development services to developers of affordable housing and seniors housing and grew to about 25 people in the late 1990s when I sold the practice to a larger Philadelphia Company. That I actually was able to sell the company, I contend, was de facto proof of a benign deity. I loved the work and I loved starting and growing a small company. After the sale, I worked off a non compete requirement, reinvented myself as an advisor and did some teaching at the University of Maryland and George Washington University. How lucky can you be to have had such interesting and challenging work and with so many great people?

7. My extra curricula activities. My three major interests have been photography, sailing and writing. I have pursued each one with as much vigor and enthusiasm as I have pursued my work. I still cruise and race a sailboat—this one is a Jeanneau 39, named “Second Wind.” I am still writing as all you blog followers know, and in June I will host a 50 Year retrospective of my photographs. Mark your calendars for June 24 if you live in the area.
8. My health. I put this last on the list, but it would well be first. Health is so important. I had a fairly severe case of polio in the early 1950s, which kept me sidelined for two years and affected my life in many ways—almost all for the better. I became much more sensitive to people who were suffering and attribute my polio experience for my bleeding heart values. And my entire adult life I have been a physical fitness fanatic and extremely grateful to have had only minor symptoms associated with post polio syndrome. Like most people I have had health issues from time to time but have (more or less) come through them all and am still going (pretty) strong at age 75.

So count me as one of the lucky ones. I was dealt a pretty damn good hand. At the same time I have tried to play my cards as best as I can though, God knows, I have made my share of mistakes and have had my share of times struggling with one issue or another. Life is not easy for anyone. It is and will always remain a mystery. The meaning of life has always been a bit of an obsession for me—particularly as a young man—and I have struggled with doubt and belief my whole life. Embry and I have always been active and committed church goers, but I have never maintained I had or have all the answers. I continue to be a seeker. Though the end my short time on this planet is a lot closer than it was when I was in my twenties and the mere thought of death freaked me out, oddly that does not seem to be a threat any more. When you get to age 75 you have run your race. You have given it your best shot and to use the card game metaphor, you have let the chips fall. If you are lucky like me, you are profoundly grateful for all the blessings that you have received, and for this I give thanks to God.

 

Visit me on Substack!
Subscribe to my Substack!

Trump had his chance for a reset and missed it. Remember that Trump campaigned as a populist, not as a traditional Republican. He could have used the overwhelming rejection (17% public approval) of his flawed, Trump-Ryancare bill as an opportunity to move toward the center. He could have expressed an openness for a bill that would benefit those working class supporters who got him elected, not just the fat cats. He could have reached out to the Democrats, offering to work with them to fix Obamacare so that it works better.

Not gonna happen.

We heard today that he is not giving up after all on a “repeal and replace” law. Members of the Freedom Caucus have said the same thing. Here we go again.

But that is not all that he has done this week that should trouble people—including moderate and open-minded Republicans. Yesterday he proudly signed the order to “repeal and replace” the Obama initiatives on climate change and carbon emissions. According to most environmentalists and others who are following the global warming story, this is potentially catastrophic. It could sack the Paris Accord and is handing the global leadership role on climate issues over to China. Regardless of whatever else Trump does in his presidency, this move alone will earn him a place in the annals of the worst scoundrels in history. According to a CNN report I heard yesterday, ExxonMobil even placed a full page ad in either the NY Times or the Wall Street Journal supporting a go-slow approach on tearing up the Obama climate initiatives. Will the American public put up with this? What can we do?

The other item, of course, is the drip, drip, drip of the Russian inquiry including the secret meeting in the White House between the head of the House Intelligence Committee and either Trump or one of his acolytes. The House investigation is now on hold, and Nunes refuses to recuse himself or step down. Then there is the meeting between Kushner and the head of a Russian bank with ties to Putin. And, of course, Trump’s continued insistence that it is really Obama who has broken the law with his illegal wire taps. If there is nothing to the accusations that people in the Trump campaign colluded with Russia, then why is Trump behaving like he is guilty? What do they have to hide?

So the nightmare called Donald Trump continues. Alas, this is likely to keep going  until he either wears out, is impeached, or just calls it quits. I do not see any light at the end of the tunnel regarding this deeply flawed human being and the harm he is doing to our country. The American people spoke out on the health care bill and that made a difference. Now we must speak out on climate change. God knows what it will be tomorrow. Stay tuned….

 

 

Visit me on Substack!
Subscribe to my Substack!