The Love of a Lifetime

Good teachers are not rare, though perhaps more so in a society that values them less. Extraordinary teachers, who can influence a life for a lifetime, are just that: Beyond the ordinary. Memorable. Encountered, if we are lucky, perhaps two or three times during our formative years.

After the gentle ladies who guided my years from six to twelve, spent in the polite society of the South, I was unprepared for the stunningly effective and universally unloved sixth-grade teacher to whom I was assigned at New York City’s P.S. 117. Mrs. Jones was the school’s music teacher but purveyor of all subjects to her captives of the sixth grade.

I’ve no doubt she taught us reading, writing, arithmetic, history and science just as fiercely as she did her beloved music, but music is all that I remember learning from her.

Mrs. Jones was determined that we would memorize—presumably thus better to appreciate—certain classical pieces from her own eclectic list of favorites. Woe to the child who could not stand and sing (all the melodies conveniently had words) selections from Grieg's “Peer Gynt Suite,” Paderewski's “Minuet in D,” or “The Swan,” by Saint-Saëns. (See? I remember them all!) The latter was my particular downfall and shame: for my failure to recite it properly when called upon, I was summoned to the front of the class and required to sing it until I got it right, while Mrs. Jones kept time with little tugs on my pigtails. I learned the tunes, in the end, but it was another twenty years before I began to appreciate them.

The star of my memories, though, is Marie McManus, high school English teacher without equal. Not a day goes by, though now I am a grandmother, that I don't think about what I learned from her only yesterday. In our small public high school in Dobbs Ferry, NY (there were only 37 seniors at graduation), it was a given that we'd all be in her care—for better or worse—for three years running. Every student in that school had the incredible good fortune to study under one of the most exciting and effective teachers I've ever known.

She was a no-nonsense lady, a veritable drill sergeant like Mrs. Jones, but her passion was for every kind of literature. From day one of our first year with her we read, parsed, memorized and analyzed poems, plays, essays and novels. Seizing every opportunity to capture adolescent imaginations, she had us read the Classic Comics treatment of such stalwarts as The Brothers Karamazov and The Hunchback of Notre Dame and compare them with the originals. We joked that she could find a deeper meaning to the word "the," so insistent was she that we understand every word we read. There was no ducking or dodging the assignments, and everyone in the high school—college, business or vocational track—had to complete three years of English with Mrs. McManus.

I can't say enough good things about the sum of the experience, and the way it turned me on to literature and learning. The words and ideas she laid before us filled my senses and remained with me, riding around in the back pocket of my mind, handy for reference in my journey through life.

There was Austen, Bacon, Blake, Byron, Chaucer, Dante, Emerson, Faulkner, Frost, Goldsmith, Hardy, Hawthorne . . . you get the idea. And her purpose reached far beyond mere appreciation of the literature she clearly loved, for there were lessons to be drawn from even the most exquisite lines of poetry: art, psychology, politics, sociology and history all made their way from the printed page into our understanding. She made it so lively and interesting that we ultimately forgave her for the workload. She brought it to life for us—I'll never forget how we jumped during a lesson when she suddenly began pounding her desk, galumphing her fists across it like a galloping steed as Macbeth readied for his last battle: "Blow, wind! come, wrack! At least we'll die with harness on our back!" (She was also our drama coach.)

Now that I've had a few years to think about these teachers—so different in their ways—I'll venture to support the old-fashioned notion that there is a value to drill and recitation, but most of all when it is part of teaching understanding and a love of the subject at hand. The simplest life experience is enhanced when a bit of music or prose or poetry learnt so long ago echoes again, unbidden: "My heart leaps up when I behold a rainbow in the sky!" Ah, how it adds to pleasure taken in the simplest of Nature's offerings, much as sharing with a loved one will do, and in turn increases the joy of life.

Certainly the lessons learned remain with me still, my gratitude expanding as the decades have passed.

I had the urge one day to call Mrs. McManus, half-way across the country, to tell her how much she had affected my life in so many positive ways. I was saddened to learn that she had died a few years before, and I chastised myself for taking so long to tell her. Another lesson learned.

Abraham Lincoln redux?

Following a comment by Doris Kearns Goodwin on Russert last night, I did a little checking on Wikipedia and picked up more details.

I learned that Abraham Lincoln, beginning in 1834 at the age of 25, served four terms in the Illinois state legislature and then one term in the US House of Representatives, from 1846-48.

After taking a few years off from politics, he next ran for office against Stephen A. Douglas for the US Senate in 1858, winning lots of attention and respect but not the seat.

Such was his experience in elective office before he became President in 1860.

Anyone in particular this might make you think of?

Call me cynical . . .

Hillary Clinton conceded that she did NOT read the National Intelligence Estimate (that contained contrary intelligence community assessments of the Iraq situation) prior to her vote authorizing the President to, among other things, take the country into war.

Remember that Bob Graham, who read the whole document, said that’s why he opposed the war — and some say it cost him a shot at the presidency.

The cynical take on Hillary’s vote is that it was so important to her to build her “tough on security” credentials that her vote was a foregone conclusion, so why bother.

Is this the kind of judgment we want in someone is supposed to be a leader?

We, the Enablers

Previously in this space I kind of beat up on corporate America, though I did suggest some ways ordinary citizens might help to change things for the better. But thinking further about the economy, I can’t let go of the idea that there is something quite wrong in this country, a country whose collective talent and energy has made us the world’s leader in opportunity, where the belief in that opportunity has made us the place where just about everyone wants to live.

Opportunities were abundant after WWII, and every plain Joe or Jane who had a dream of getting rich, or at least richer, had every reason to believe that by dint of hard work it was possible.

Fast forward to the 21st century. Well, now we hear a lot about low unemployment rates, but what happened to the folks who worked for Tyler Refrigeration? And we hear every day about the fantastic gains in the stock market, but just who is gaining? Not Joe or Jane, that’s for sure.

Nor do I insist that they must be charitable with their resources, though some of them are, and they are to be saluted.

No, I think there is a larger issue here, and one that we must identify and address if ever we are to have a society that works the way we all say we want it to. But first and foremost, we need to quit rolling over and accepting as a given what is fundamentally contrary to the American dream.

We need to discover, for starters, whether it is true that irrelevant features of our socioeconomic structure — that is, unrelated to individual creative effort, hard work or wise investment — make it too easy to amass a huge fortune when it is clearly not contributing to our economy.

Most obviously, there are the many creative ways the very rich escape the “tax man.” For example, I subscribed to what I thought was a travel magazine; it turned out to be a guide for retired folks who might wish to change their citizenship and residence to Costa Rica or Belize in order to avoid income taxes! Not interested in leaving the country? Well, did you know that you can still deduct the taxes on a second home even though you may use it only a week or three each year?

Here lately, it’s hedge-fund profits that are causing comment, taxed as they are as capital gains (15%) rather than as earnings (which they really are) that might cost the clever manager as much as 35%. (For that matter, do you remember when the top income tax rate dropped from 75% to 70% and then to 50%? And did you know that during WWII it went to 94% — yup, there was definitely shared sacrifice then.) Have you had a 15% tax rate lately? You might be inspired to know that there’s an effort in Congress to rectify this.

If it is true that the preponderance of our wealth is unrealistically tipping toward the top of our economic pyramid, what are the effects of this phenomenon? Can they be good for the country?

Well, most of us are not so desperate as to lose our homes or go without meals (though too many of us are!), any more than most of us are very wealthy. But as for the middle class, there is a lot of agreement that people are working harder without seeing any significant improvement in their standard of livings, while government programs and benefits that raised the standard of living are cut and cut and even eliminated.

In the long run, I think most will agree that there is a problem here. It’s partly in the mechanisms that we’ve allowed to be put in place for steering the course of our development, and partly in our lack of will to understand the need for and demand adjustments to our tax system. Clearly we haven't had the leadership interested in solving it, let alone in persuading us to follow.

The last thing we need, though, is a citizenry willing to shrug its shoulders and sigh and accept that the dream is a thing of the past.

John Edwards update

I fear that Edwards has become a Johnny One Note, though I don’t dispute the need to address poverty in America. Despite his efforts to remind us of Bobby Kennedy (who, though I came grudgingly to like him back then, has clearly become more glorious over time) he’s not going to close the gap with voters who are, as Politico points out, more concerned about the war and health care.

Of course, all these are related, so it will be interesting to see if he survives; if he actually wins in Iowa, things could change.

He may be off to a good start with this, on education.

About That Moral Crisis

Yes, I’ve been listening to the debate that’s been raging about the problems in America.

It does seem to be true that there are deficits in our educational system, that some people are unable to work, that some people are unwilling to work, and that too many people cannot afford decent medical care. It may also be true that too many have too little and/or too few have too much.

No matter the issue, whenever a problem is identified, everyone’s got a favorite theory, a favorite demon to blame, and a favorite cause to champion in pursuit of a solution. As often as not, someone figures the problem is that we are in a moral crisis in America.

Well, I certainly agree that America is in the throes of a moral crisis. But I believe the morals of corporate America are the issue here.

Amazing, isn’t it, that a citizenry that celebrates the message of “It’s a Wonderful Life” and flocks to yuletide productions of “A Christmas Carol” to cheer Tiny Tim and applaud the conversion of Scrooge to humanity is the same citizenry that tolerates the ruthless activities of some of America’s most prominent corporations?

After all, we now inhabit the future featured in those “America of the Future” films they showed us with such optimism in elementary school, back in the forties and fifties. Fifty or so years later, we travel the predicted superhighways (not to mention the one dedicated to Information), and they are indeed elevated and curve gracefully around skyscrapers; we drive the promised aerodynamically-shaped automobiles and race at Bradburian speeds over the desert, not to mention occasionally within city limits. We have become accustomed to robots, especially those who’ve replaced living beings at the telephone switchboards of corporate America.

We have long taken a stunning array work-saving appliances for granted, although I’ve yet to figure out just how a dishwasher saves me time. The ironing board is almost extinct and now there are cute little self-propelled floor mopping devices. Interactive TV is coming on line. And not only do we have the promised tiny transistor radios that fit into the ear, we’ve two-way TV telephones and cellular phones that take pictures, and now we have the iPhone!

There are more varieties of leisure activity available than even Bradbury predicted, and wall-sized TV screens can’t be far away! All the prognosticators of the forties and fifties had a favorite theme: that more and more helpful appliances and an evolving technology would bring us to a fantasy life of increased time for home and family, for leisure activities. No longer would a father be obliged, like Bob Cratchit, to work from dawn to dusk and beyond with no time for Christmas dinner.

Ah, we looked forward to shorter work-weeks, longer vacations, financial security and good health. We would be able to spend time with our children, do lots of travel, pursue any number of hobbies . . . You get the point.

Well, look again. Father may have more time with the family, but in most cases that is possible only because Mother has taken a job to help support the family. And now, with corporate downsizing and outsourcing — the better to feed the voracious appetite of shareholders for ever-increasing profits — not to mention the layoffs that inevitably result when two companies merge, Father is just as likely to be out of a job altogether.

When a corporation no longer offers loyalty to its workforce, or any sense of future, choosing instead to reduce jobs, or wages, or benefits, a predictable casualty is worker loyalty. You don’t see much of that any more, and that loss inevitably generates instability and a whole new aura of fear and loathing in the workplace.

Imagine how the American condition would be affected if corporations regained their moral compass and assumed some responsibility for the wellbeing of their workers!

Now, don’t be thinking, “but there’s nothing we can do about it,” because that’s just not true. There’s lots we can do. But we do need to remember that you can’t just wish away immoral behavior — you need to convert the sinner to want to do the right thing.

For starters, then, we (the people) can begin by getting rid of the tax breaks given to corporations who outsource jobs and/or move their headquarters overseas, and offer them instead to corporations who stay here.

We can offer tax incentives to corporations who will locate a business in declining areas in our cities, which in turn will bring jobs to people who live there and slow the emptying into the suburbs. And we can offer further incentives to those corporations who contribute to the public schools in their neighborhoods so that their employees’ children will have a decent education — without demanding advertising in exchange.

Last in this commentary but hardly least, we can see to it that Congress enacts health care reform here at home to ensure that, one way or another, every American has access to affordable care. That will not only improve the quality and longevity of life for Americans but will inevitably ease the benefits burden for corporations and, it is hoped, complete our conversion of the sinner.

In the final analysis, every penny offered in tax incentives, every penny spent to help provide health care for working America, will be returned many-fold in the form of jobs and tax revenues and healthier citizens who can work harder and longer, not to mention stability and maybe even that America of the Future we’ve all been dreaming about.

A Trickle-Down Life

If you haven’t noticed, it’s been pretty wet around here lately. By my reckoning, it’s about a month since I even thought about wishing for a little rain. Boy, howdy, as they say.

I checked the date on the roof repair bid I got; it was written on April 12th, and the plan was to have the work done in two or three weeks. Ha! The best-laid plans of mice and men and homeowners who should have known better than to count on Texas weather to cooperate . . .

From steady downpour to thunderstorm, from gullywasher to torrent and dark afternoons with tornado warnings, you have to admit it has not been boring. But they say that if you don’t like the weather in Texas, just wait a few minutes. I waited. And waited.

I got really good at remembering just where to place the big styrofoam cooler in the back room so as to catch all of the plip, plip, plop, plop, plunk, plunk – well ‘most all, though during the breaks in the downpour I’ve sometimes had to run the floor fan to dry out the wet that got away.

If you’ve never had this particular problem you may not know that there is one thing you just cannot do when the weather is like this: You cannot have the roof repaired.

I kept remembering the famous words from the song “Mañana” — “but if we wait a day or two the rain may go away. . . ” Right.

Now, my livelihood depends to a certain extent on fair weather happening at least once in awhile (most folks don’t even think about looking at houses with cats and dogs running wild inside, let alone raining from the sky above), so I spent some time—okay, a lot of time as it turns out—watching the weather radar on my computer, figuring a little careful planning would take care of that problem. But just when it looked like a break in the weather was coming, turns out the folks who were planning to meet with me were inundated with their own deluge; they refused to believe, for example, that the sun was shining in Waxahachie when Red Oak was under a tornado warning!

A few years back my son was visiting from California when this kind of excitement was going on; settled comfortably in the big easy chair he observed, “I’ve never seen people sit in front of the TV and watch the WEATHER before!” I guess if they ever figure out how to track earthquakes on radar he’ll understand.

After all these dry years I discovered there are a few things to relearn, and if you by any chance haven’t yet, let me pass along a couple of words of wisdom.

First, if you find on leaving a building that your car is up to its hubcaps in water but you don’t want to wait—for how long, after all?—then, for heaven’s sake, remember to (1) roll up your pant cuffs and (2) take off your shoes! Boy did I feel silly forgetting THAT one! Took my sandals two days to dry out.

Second, if you’re already only five-foot-one, rest assured there’s no need to worry about shrinking and you’ll get home faster if you go ahead and brave the elements—especially if you (1) roll up your pant cuffs and (2) take off your shoes.

Third, umbrellas are pointless, since you’ll get drenched anyway, wrestling the doggone thing closed from inside your car while the rain follows you in.

As the runoff coursed down my street last week, I fantasized that I was living on a river; it was quite romantic, actually. When someone gives you lemons, make lemonade; when the good Lord gives you a river to gaze upon, appreciate it!


The kids across the street were appreciating it, too, laughing and splashing and thoroughly enjoying the adventure; the current wasn’t strong enough to be dangerous, but sufficient for fun.

I’ve decided there’s no point in sulking just because of a little rain. After all, it will eventually stop for more than a few hours, right? At least I still believe this. In the meantime, should I find myself living on a river again, I plan to roll up the pant cuffs, take off my shoes, fold a bright, crisp piece of paper into a toy boat, and join in the fun.