Month: October 2020

In my 80s

October 31, 2020

Lots of children, including my granddaughters, are sad that trick or treating must be curtailed this year because of Covid. Irvington, an old community inside Indianapolis, has cancelled its Halloween race, street festival and tours of haunted houses. However, lawn exhibits and house decorations abound.

Halloween does not reach me. The costumes, the parties, the bags of candy do not raise my pulse. Why? I suppose it has to do with my growing up years — Halloween was not observed in our rural Mennonite community. Never did we go trick or treating. On October 31, our attention was fixed on the next day — the opening of small-game hunting season.

Thanksgiving was important among our families. That may explain why Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday, better than Christmas, Easter and the Fourth of July thrown together.

Tonight I intend to read … so that lights don’t draw a crowd of Covid cruising Halloweeners on the porch.

In my 80s

October 26, 2020

A colleague and close friend sent me this:

“Socrates:  Then tell me, O Critias, how will a man choose the ruler that shall rule over him?  Will he not choose a man who has first established order in himself, knowing that any decision that has its spring from anger or pride or vanity can be multiplied a thousandfold in the effects upon the citizens?“

In my 80s

October 25, 2020

I wish to dedicate this evening’s blog to the Green and Gunden families, particularly Laura and Annelise who were involved in a serious car accident on Saturday. Know that the mountain in front of you can, in time, lift you up.

Our prayers are with you.

In my 80s

October 21, 2020

Trustworthy words. That is, my word and your word are promises of truth. Let me tell you a sad story.

When I was nine or ten years old we went to a close relative’s home for Sunday dinner. Such was the custom in my extended family. After dinner we boys went to the barn to play. But a family fellow my age diverted us to the barnyard. He addressed me: “I want to test whether you trust me. You see that wire (strung around the barnyard to keep steers penned)? I tell you … I give you my word … that wire does not now have electricity in it. Prove that you trust me by peeing on the wire.”

Of course I wouldn’t do such a thing. Never. I wanted to go play. But the fellow wouldn’t budge. “Before we play you must prove that you trust me.”

I don’t know how long this stretched out. But I wanted to play, so I peed on the fence and got the heaviest electrical jolt of my life. The guy rolled in laughter, teasing me for being gullible. But at that moment I lost my trust in him, and most unfortunately have not found a way to regain a trust.

I’m sorry to say, even though I am not surprised, his siblings and the few people who know him say he is a grouchy, friendless, unreliable and unwelcomed 80 year old.

In this election season, I can’t help but think about words and trustworthiness.

In my 80s

October 20, 2020

Please allow me to copy selected sentences from “The First Amendment in an age of disinformation” by Emily Bazelon, published in The New York Times Magazine.

“The United States is in the middle of a catastrophic public health crisis caused by the spread of the coronavirus. But it also in the midst of an information crisis caused by the spread of viral disinformation, defined as falsehoods aimed at achieving a political goal.“

In the early 1960’s at Syracuse University I wrote a Ph.D. dissertation on a 1940’s and 50’s intellectual movement that promoted the concept of “The Social Responsibility of the Press.” I then could not have anticipated today’s vast bulletin boards of lies, altogether alien to the ideals of social responsibility.

Can our nation recover from this coronavirus and from the viral disinformation? If so, how (in both cases)? These two questions locate where my attention and thoughts will be in upcoming months.

In my 80s

October 16, 2020

In our little environment, distanced from Covid (we hope), this day dares to be autumn at its best.

Wood for the fireplace

Peppers aglow

Kaleidoscopic leaves

Woodlands dressed for partying

An ode to a leaf

Back at the house, a happy fat cactus blossom

And an afternoon snooze.

I’m relieved that Covid hasn’t blighted October.

In my 80s

October 15, 2020

Not that I am a fast reader, not that I have page memory, nonetheless I often read more than one book at a time. For this weekend:

Michael Cohen, Disloyal — A Memoir; the true story of the former personal attorney to the President of the United States. 2020

I actually don’t want to read this, having long ago
more than satisfied my curiosity about Donald Trump.
Yet the confession of a rich wannabe
who was brought low
draws me.

H. Richard Niebuhr , Christ and Culture. 1951

Mind you this important book was published
when I was a freshman in high school.
I want to see whether Niebuhr
anticipated the religious culture
that surrounds us today.

Rudy Schouten, The Historic Memorial District of Downtown Indianapolis. 2020

Rudy and I chanced upon each other at Starbucks
a number of years ago, have enjoyed coffees every since,
our chatter usually about our respective writing projects.
I know that his latest book will be a model
of careful research.

In my 80s

October 11, 2020

Every once in a while I come upon an idea or just a thoughtful aside that engenders this thought: in decades from now, perhaps a century, there will be measures, that is, criteria for evaluating quality of existence, or perhaps quality of governance or quality of schooling, etc. that totally escapes our awareness today, even despite our reaching for quality.

Not surprising, then, that I speculate on which of our current measures of quality will be found in that future day to be reasons for widespread scorn.

Since I am neither prophet nor seer, I can’t come close to predicting those new standards that might expose the folly of our current ideals. But today Jim Taylor sent me a provocation, something written by Jason Hickel. While Hickel’s measure of quality remains inchoate in my mind, it stirs my imagination. I will state it to fit my introduction.

That human organization, ranging from the smallest unit
to the most inclusive should be judged by
its commitment to “Degrowth —
that is, a planned reduction of excess energy
and resource use …
to bring the economy back into balance
with the living world,
while reducing inequality
and improving people’s access
to the resources they need
to live long, healthy, flourishing lives.”


How might the families living here on Bolton Avenue reconstruct our lives — perhaps a better term would be de-construct our lives, to effect degrowth as defined by Jason Hickel. Ditto Indianapolis. And similarly, Indiana as well as the rest of the Midwest. Let’s include in the universe under consideration: Chicago and New York and LA.

That is, each of the units mentioned would assess the merits of their existence by the measure of degrowth engendered.