Lyrics for Our Times

 

From Cabaret, the profound lyrics of Fred Ebb:

 

Money makes the world go around

It makes the world go 'round.

A mark, a yen, a buck or a pound

A buck or a yen

A buck or a pound.

Is all that makes the world go around

That clinking, clanking sound

Can make the world go 'round

Money money money money

 

These lyrics came to mind when I read our local Palm Beach Post story (Sunday, Feb. 14), Why upstart political 'sommelier' Blair Brandt says GOP money base is Palm Beach.  Essentially, although Brandt was “saddened and shocked at what he saw” on Jan. 6, he anticipates it will have an impact on his clients, “donors and corporations he advises on political strategy and giving.”  He has found “’people are more interested and curious than ever in terms of what races to support and who is the right candidate.’"

 

“What he insists, however, is that the future of his ‘political sommelier’ venture is firmly rooted in Palm Beach, a Mecca for the new Republican Party. And as he listens to clients, donors and prospective candidates alike, the focus is all about flipping control of the Congress in the 2022 midterm elections.”

 

After college he started “a concierge-style real estate service” in Manhattan which catered “to wealthy millennia’s.”  That was such a success that he landed on the Forbes list of “up and coming entrepreneurs.”  That led to “a reality television show on the ABC Family network.”  Sound familiar?

 

“Today, Brandt is back in Palm Beach, where he has meshed his entrepreneurial instincts with his new-found passion for conservative politics to create a sort of concierge-style political consulting and fundraising firm, The Brandt Group LLC.”  According to Brandt, "’I kind of view myself as a political sommelier. It's like being a concierge at a hotel, or a Sherpa — you’re kind of guiding people through a massive maze.’"  (The maze being matching wealthy donors to the correct conservative political choices).  Because he grew up on Palm Beach and now lives there with his family, he “had connections. Local donors took his calls and Brandt knew which donors should be invited to exclusive fundraisers.”

 

The article dovetails with yet another one in the same edition of the Post: You won't believe the total sales at the most expensive condominium ever built in Palm Beach County.  There was much controversy over The Bristol condominium in West Palm Beach when it was proposed in 2013, particularly whether such a massive downtown structure was appropriate, or even financially viable.  Well in this era of fast money and $50k Bitcoins, it has sold out.  The total sales make it the “most expensive condominium ever built in Palm Beach County hitting just under $600 million.”

 

“Units at The Bristol ranged in price from under $5 million to $43 million.”  And this is not Manhattan, folks, we’re talking Florida.  But, as the article correctly highlights, “Palm Beach County is in the national spotlight these days as a destination for individuals and companies seeking to relocate to a state with low taxes, warm weather and plenty of luxury touches, from top restaurants to numerous cultural attractions.”  Also the pandemic “sparked a surge in residential real estate sales and the relocation of financial firms seeking to serve wealthy residents in the area.” 

 

The thread tying these two articles together is the tsunami of wealth that has flooded the area with zero interest rates favoring those very individuals who need help the least.  And aside from real estate and the toys of the über wealthy, money-money-money gets channeled into politics, frequently as a means of preserving wealth, one back scratching the other.  This is yet an added Democracy headwind.

 

What else could explain Mitch McConnell’s acquittal of Trump in the Impeachment proceedings, and two minutes later delivering a blistering attack which would have been suitable if he was a House Impeachment Manager? (“Give 'em the old razzle dazzle / Razzle Dazzle 'em… How can they hear the truth above the roar?”  Again Lyrics by Fred Ebb, this time from Chicago.)  This way he can appeal to Republican donors for the 2022 mid-terms based on which part of the fractious Party he is addressing.

 

The point is, everything is tied together by the very sick practice of political contributions, and this goes for both sides of the aisle, the now much maligned anti-Trump PAC, The Lincoln Project alone raising $90 million during the last election.  Publix, the major super market chain in Florida, recently gave $100K to Friends of Ron DeSantis for his re-election campaign.  Days later, DeSantis, who has badly botched the distribution of the Covid vaccine ignoring the CDC’s guidelines, designated Publix as practically the sole distribution point for vaccinations, a job for which the Publix appointment scheduling system was totally unprepared.  What resulted for seniors is a version of the Hunger Games. 

 

Some nine years ago after the Supreme Court brought the Super PAC into being by ruling that unlimited contributions can be made by corporations as well as wealthy individuals – that they had such rights under the Constitution -- I wrote about this terrible decision.  The content is as valid today as when it was first written, so here is a truncated version:

 

"Stay tuned, but now a word from the sponsor" --- the despicable political advertising condoned by the Supreme Court. The Founding Fathers obviously anticipated ungodly sums of money being raised by corporations and unions for political PACs so elections can be bought and sold by these "people" whose first amendment rights would otherwise be violated. Or at least I guess that is the Court's interpretation.

 

The American electorate is electronic media addicted; broadcast emails, streaming video, Tweets, YouTube, network and cable TV. Outside sleep and work, "video consumption" is the #1 activity, or, if written, preferably 140 characters or less please. Robocalls are part of the political media bombardment. Sound bites over substance.

 

When motivational research was being pioneered by the likes of Ernest Dichter and James Vicary in the 1950s and popularized by Vance Packard in his Hidden Persuaders, little did they know that some of those principles would become part of a giant advertising machine aimed at buying elections. Advertising 101: sell the emotion, not the pragmatic benefit of the product.

 

And, so in this political season, we're selling religion and all the emotions that are attached to the same (and in a negative way, not the way it was used in WW II advertising to spur solidarity and sacrifice):

 

But the real selling job is just getting underway. Sell fear. Just wait until the Super P's roll out their shadowy images of their opponent bathed in a light to look like Jack the Ripper.

 

It is no wonder that a society that consumes movies that are more computer animated than acted, and cannot live without 24/7 video is a perfect target for Super PAC persuasion. Just fork over the bucks and try to buy an election! Sanctioned by the Supreme Court, the same folks who "sponsored" the results of the 2000 presidential election.

 

After four years of Trump and gas lighting, a more virulent version of political persuasion has been created.  I give Trump credit for only one thing, his media instincts.  He capitalizes on a form of agnotology, a culturally constructed ignorance, purposefully aimed to create confusion and suppress the truth.  He even has his Republican sycophants protecting him from being guilty of his Impeachment charges.  Any reasonable person would conclude that he was responsible for the turmoil of January.

 

I’m not the first to note it, but Trump has become the Jim Jones of politics, a cult leader who can say,” march on Washington on Jan. 6” and his obedient somnambulants obeyed under the guise of being patriots.  He incited them to violence after creating the movement.  His mass persuasion tactics are more instinctive than studied, but they work.  As do the names he gives opponents such as “Little Marco” (Rubio), “Lyin' Ted" (Cruz) who now crawl to his beck and call.  The cult views him as Satan’s adversary.  Gotta get a little religion into the mix.  Might has well give Trump the title of “Reverend,” as was Jim Jones’ moniker. 

 

In his “Rally to Save America” he spewed his election conspiracy theories and his cult followers adopted more punchy one liners from his speech and innuendo such as “Stop The Steal!,” “Hang Mike Pence!,” “Fight For Trump!” 

 

These slogans and nicknames are potent manipulative tactics.  This is not new science.  Gustave Le Bon's 1895 pioneering book of social psychology, The Crowd; A Study of the Popular Mind, stated "The power of words is bound up with the images they evoke, and is quite independent of their real significance. Words whose sense is the most ill-defined are sometimes those that possess the most influence. Yet it is certain that a truly magical power is attached to those short syllables" [e.g. “Stop the Steal”] "as they contained the solution to all problems. They synthesize the most diverse unconscious aspirations and the hope of their realization. Reason and arguments are incapable of combating certain words and formulas. They are uttered with solemnity...and as soon as they have been pronounced an expression of respect is visible on every countenance, and all heads bowed. By many they are considered as natural forces, as supernatural powers. They evoke grandiose and vague images in men's minds, but this very vagueness that wraps them in obscurity augments their mysterious power."

 

How in the world did we get to this point?  We’re lucky to have escaped the complete implosion of Democracy on Jan. 6, but the donors are lining up for 2022 and the Palm Beach crowd will be there to urge on the Trump-inspired cultists, and the PACs will be lining up to make THEIR world go ‘round, by gladly taking their money, money, money.

 

Isn’t it time to put political candidates on a more even playing field?  Grant political candidates an equal amount of $$ to spend on elections.  Make it a government supported stipend.  After you spend it, your advertising days are over, so do so wisely: even better, public televised debates and no political advertising.  Time has come to starve the PAC beast.  It will put some fund-raising firms out of work.  Let them raise money for those who need it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Inauguration 2021 – Again, I Hear America Singing

 

In 2009 I felt elation, 2017 brought fear and loathing, and 2021 a profound sense of relief and anticipation.

Writing a blog means accountability, especially over a long period of time, making me confront my “former self” and my maturation (or failures) as a writer.  I’m not writing for The New Yorker or a newspaper.  This is a litmus test of beliefs and feelings over time when it comes to current affairs and my interpretation of the arts that I’ve been fortunate enough to enjoy or to participate in.  Not many of the latter because of the pandemic.

In the spirit of self-evaluation I see my 2009 piece on Obama’s inauguration as being too euphoric, such lofty expectations only to be tapered by the reality of Congressional opposition, one could argue mired in prejudice and the big lie of birtherism. 

Eight years later brought Trump’s inauguration which we just could not watch it.  Instead, we sought refuge in the dark of a movie theatre to see La La Land, going to the early afternoon showing to bury our senses in fantasy and not watch a ceremony we thought would be the start of four dystopian years, ones that might existentially threaten our nation’s very existence, at least as a democracy and as a leader of the world.  And indeed the very psyche of our nation has been severely damaged.  How can we persuade 75 million cult members that their reality did not exist at all?  Or some members of the Senate and Congress, people who swore their allegiance to the Constitution?  They continue to justify the big lie of the validity of the election.

We’ve lost a few acquaintances (but not close friends who share our values) over this uniquely American schism.  The damage from the Trump presidency is incalculable in lost time, lost lives, widening income disparity, racial injustice, climate change, and the myriad other issues threatening us, all to satisfy the ego of a psychologically damaged person.  He played to the masses with a rare instinct, one other demagogues had mastered. 

After President Joseph R. Biden’s inauguration yesterday, I’m feeling that old euphoria from 2009, but now tempered with caution.  Nonetheless, it should be obvious to anyone who viewed the festivities with an open mind that we have entered a new era.  I had forgotten that intelligence and grace are compatible with governing.  Every word of President Biden’s speech was on the mark. 

From Lady Gaga’s soaring rendition of the National Anthem, to Biden’s inspirational speech, to Jennifer Lopez’s moving performance of 'This Land Is Your Land' (so appropriate to have Woody Guthrie represented, America’s Troubadour), and then the gut-wrenching beauty of the words of the youngest Poet Laureate , Amanda Gorman, I was in tears throughout, blubbering, uncontrollable, a flood to wash away the last four years, ones to mourn the four hundred thousand deaths from this pandemic, so many of them needless, and then some tears of joy. Gorman’s youth is as notable as her words; this is the generation we pass the torch to.  There is no better man for that and the moment than Joe Biden. 

And to top it all off, an immediate press briefing, from a new White House Press Secretary, Jen Psaki, who is smarter than a whip, and seems eager to stay on point and give accurate information.  No spin or confrontation.  Imagine that, the Truth with no other hidden agenda?  I felt as if I was watching a Press conference from the West Wing TV series from years ago.

Finally, a day in the life of the US we can be proud of.  The contrast is so immense to what has been that it is staggering. Suddenly, light.

Although I am cautioned by my earlier writings on this occasion not to be a soothsayer, the same former self reaches out to me and says, yes, yesterday’s inaugural moments might even touch, however lightly, the darkest soul.  From 2009 and 2017 my inaugural blog entries in their entirety:

Friday, January 20, 2017

LA,LA,LA, In La La Land

It might seem disrespectful.  In many ways it was, a silent protest, seeing La La Land instead of our new President’s inauguration, the first one we’ve missed in decades.  It seems like yesterday when we were filled with hope as evidenced by what I wrote exactly eight years ago.  The complete text is at the end of this entry.

After watching the never ending ennui of the Republican primaries and the solipsistic behavior of our new President-elect, how could anyone welcome his presence in the oval office?  And I’m referring to his behavior, not necessarily his policies, which, to be fair, remain to be seen.  We had hoped Obama would have been more effective, but how could he given the illegitimacy narrative so infused by the right and particularly by the new President himself?  All those years contending he was not born here, that he is a secret Muslim, ad infinitum.  It was their objective to block any and everything and for the most part they succeeded.  Still, the unemployment rate has dropped from 9.3% when he took office to below 5% and the Dow has tripled (although I am not naïve enough to singularly credit President Obama for these changes, but his leadership had an impact). Obama was not a “perfect” President, particularly in foreign affairs, but he was a decent, rational person.  Can we say the same, now?

And now there are accusations of Trump being an “illegitimate” President because of Russia’s interference (not to mention Comey’s).  As there is no evidence that ballot boxes were hacked, he is not illegitimate in the legal sense of the word, but one can reasonably conclude the election was tainted.  One cannot prove an alternative reality but no doubt these events impacted the election results.

I had to laugh (or cry) at Trump’s assertion that “we have by far the highest IQ of any Cabinet ever assembled.”  You would therefore think that his pick for Treasury Secretary, Steve Mnuchin, would have a better excuse for his failure to reveal $100 million in assets and links to a tax haven company, than saying “as you all can appreciate, filling out these government forms is quite complicated.”  After all, isn’t he a genius like all the rest of the Goldman Sachs ringers appointed to the Cabinet?  Not that I have anything against Goldman Masters of the Universe other than when Trump was running he equated them with the “swamp” of the establishment, paying Hillary Clinton for speeches.

But I’ve now read Trump’s Inaugural address which, when read, sounds like many of his impromptu electioneering stump speeches, but pulled together into one dystopian narrative.  I’m ready to embrace a stronger economy, jobs for all, but we’ve been on that trajectory for years now.  Rather than rebutting some of the speech, point by point, NPR has done a good job with fact checking.  Not that facts matter anymore in this post-factual, reality TV world.

So, to us the perfect antidote to the malaise of fear and despair over the election was seeing La La Land while the new President was sworn in and fêted.  The movie is a sweeping reaffirmation of the power of music and the arts, and a declarative statement that the American film musical is back.  It’s wonderful that a new generation is ready to embrace this art.  There’s a lot to be said about living in fantasy when one goes to a movie theatre, but it’s another matter to live one’s real life in the real world with leadership in serious doubt.  I hope President Trump transcends all these concerns.

Nonetheless, what a difference eight years make…

Monday, January 19, 2009

Early in the Morning

It is early in the morning on the eve of President-elect Obama’s inauguration – in fact very early, another restless night. When it is so early and still outside, sound travels and I can hear the CSX freight train in the distance, its deep-throated rumbling and horn warning the few cars out on the road at the numerous crossings nearby.

Perhaps subconsciously my sleeplessness on this, the celebration of Martin Luther King’s birthday, relates to the incongruous dreamlike images of the bookends of my political consciousness, from the Little Rock desegregation crisis of 1957, the freedom marches that culminated with the march on Washington in 1963 and Martin Luther King’s historic "I Have a Dream" speech, to the inauguration tomorrow of our first Afro-American President. All this breathtaking demonstration of profound social change in just my lifetime.

Much has now been said comparing Obama to Lincoln. In my “open letter” to Obama that I published here last May.  I said “Your opponents have criticized your limited political experience, making it one of their main issues in attacking your candidacy. Lincoln too was relatively inexperienced, something he made to work to his advantage. Forge cooperation across the aisle in congress, creating your own ‘team of rivals’ as Doris Kearns Goodwin described his cabinet in her marvelous civil war history.”

The Lincoln comparison is now omnipresent in the press, not to mention his cabinet selections indeed being a team of rivals. But I am restless because of what faces this, the very administration I had hoped for: a crisis of values as much as it is an economic one. The two are inextricably intertwined.

I am reading an unusual novel by one of my favorite authors, John Updike, Terrorist. One of the main characters, Jack Levy laments: “My grandfather thought capitalism was doomed, destined to get more and more oppressive until the proletariat stormed the barricades and set up the worker’ paradise. But that didn’t happen; the capitalists were too clever or the proletariat too dumb. To be on the safe side, they changed the label ‘capitalism’ to read ‘free enterprise,’ but it was still too much dog-eat-dog. Too many losers, and the winners winning too big. But if you don’t let the dogs fight it out, they’ll sleep all day in the kennel. The basic problem the way I see it is, society tries to be decent, and decency cuts no ice in the state of nature. No ice whatsoever. We should all go back to being hunter-gathers, with a hundred-percent employment rate, and a healthy amount of starvation.”

The winners in this economy were not only the capitalists, the real creators of jobs due to hard work and innovation, but the even bigger winners: the financial masters of the universe who learned to leverage financial instruments with the blessings of a government that nurtured the thievery of the public good through deregulation, ineptitude, and political amorality. This gave rise to a whole generation of pseudo capitalists, people who “cashed in” on the system, bankers and brokers and “financial engineers” who dreamt up lethal structures based on leverage and then selling those instruments to an unsuspecting public, a public that entrusted the government to be vigilant so the likes of a Bernie Madoff could not prosper for untold years. Until we revere the real innovators of capitalism, the entrepreneurs who actually create things, ideas, jobs, our financial system will continue to seize up. That is the challenge for the Obama administration – a new economic morality.

Walt Whitman penned these words on the eve of another civil war in 1860:

I hear America singing, the varied carols I hear,

Those of mechanics, each one singing his as it would be blithe and strong,

The carpenter singing his as he measures his plank or beam,

The mason singing his as he makes ready for work, or leaves off work,

The boatman singing what belongs to him in his boat, the deckhand singing on the steamboat deck,

The shoemaker singing as he sits on his bench, the hatter singing as he stands,

The woodcutter's song, the ploughboy's on his way in the morning, or at noon intermission or at sundown,

The delicious singing of the mother, or of the young wife at work, or of the girl sewing or washing,

Each singing what belongs to him or her and to none else,

The day what belongs to the day--at night the party of young fellows, robust, friendly,

Singing with open mouths their strong melodious songs.

It is still early in the morning as I finish this but the sun is rising and I’m going out for my morning walk. Another freight train is rumbling in the distance. I hear America singing.

The Revoltingly Horrid Year Continues….

 

Could we have a worse start to a year that follows the worst year in memory?

A quote President unquote, whose name I cannot even speak, continues behaving like an unhinged mobster boss.  His attempts to coerce the Georgia Secretary of State to throw their lawful election is just one more manifestation of his never-ending quest not to be labeled a loser, which he is and has always been.  His behavior then was criminal, impeachable.

But wait, that has been forgotten now as this deranged man stood safely behind a bullet proof shield and urged his slavish rabble to storm Congress just as it was ratifying the Electoral College Vote to name Joseph Biden the next President.  He yelled, Stop the Steal!  He promised he’ll be there with them every step along the way.  He didn’t clarify that he meant that metaphorically, as neither he nor his followers know the meaning of the word.  Instead he retired to the security of his White House Media Room with family members and sycophants to enjoy the siege of his insurrectionists in what we would consider a coup attempt if we were watching a 3^rd world government.  It was like a Super Bowl party to them as they watched his minions do his dirty work.

Criminal, inciting sedition.  This by a sitting President.  Unthinkable.  Punishable, impeachable,

So his job of demolishing the last vestiges of democracy and decency is complete.  He is a deluded anarchist and by pandering to that base he has created a populist persona with a dedicated following, ready to die for him.  It could have been a greater loss of life during the siege had those pipe bombs and Molotov cocktails been detonated.  Perhaps the deep rumble of explosions and their accompanying terrifying bright lights was what he was waiting for. 

We’ve all seen this coming and with every despicable act we (and many elected representatives) have given him more and more latitude.  After all it has been reasoned, he doesn’t understand the consequences.  He doesn’t understand how government really works. 

Early in his Presidency, almost four years ago, I wrote an article presciently entitled Barbarians IN the Gate.  I’ll quote the beginning of the article as the defacing of Congress completes the circle of what he began in the White House:

It didn’t take long to deface The Office of the Presidency, celebrity triviality “trumping” expertise and dignity.  To the victor belong the spoils and it is no more in evidence than the recent White House fête personally hosted by Donald Trump, his guests being Sarah Palin, Ted Nugent and Kid Rock, whoever the latter two are.  Supposedly, Sarah invited Ted and Kid because Jesus was busy.  During their four hour run of the White House including a white china dinner they apparently discussed “health, fitness, food, rock ’n’ roll, Chuck Berry and Bo Diddley, secure borders, the history of the United States, guns, bullets, bows and arrows, North Korea, [ and ]Russia.”  It is reassuring to know our President is getting such good advice.

According to NPR, Mr. Nugent described the visit as follows: "Well well well looky looky here boogie chillin', I got your Shot Heard Round The World right here in big ol greazya— Washington DC where your 1 & only MotorCity Madman Whackmaster StrapAssasin1 dined with President Donald J Trump at the WhiteHouse to Make America Great Again! Got that?"

It is the full circle.

Hillary Clinton called them “deplorable,” just another name for people who live in a world of popular culture, and ignorance.  It is a Civil War and this may be only the opening volley of violence, no matter whether he resigns (the decent option, but the least expected unless he negotiates a pardon from Pence), impeached, or removed via the 25^th amendment. 

How easily the behavior of one tragically flawed person can obfuscate so many serious issues which are tossed by the wayside, the pandemic and distribution of the vaccines, the climate, racial issues, gun control, voter suppression, and a national debt from which the nation might not recover.  Meanwhile Bitcoins and the stock market rage on while the nation burns, and we wake up each morning, fearing the next disaster du jour.

Good riddance to our Mobster President who, unfortunately, will still be part of the cancer that erodes our society from within, no matter the degree of his exile.  Mar a Lago may be his Elba. 

 

Farewell to a Horrid Year

 

Aging is a cruel master. In 2020 it has been particularly unforgiving.  More change, chaos, and suffering have been thrown our way, collectively and personally, than I can remember.

Trump said he could shoot someone on Fifth Avenue and no one would do anything about it.  In the case of COVID vs. Donald J. Trump this is not a figurative, innocent person on Fifth Avenue, but hundreds of thousands of real American lives.  History will record many of the deaths and suffering as avoidable.  By politicizing the wearing of masks and holding his “rallies” with no social distancing, he has blood on his hands. Ask the family of Herman Cain, who was diagnosed with COVID nine days after attending a crowded, face-maskless Trump rally in Tulsa.

It has been a surreal agony to witness this.  As an aging person this entire experience has increased our risk and ratcheted up anxiety; merely to survive this period, essentially in isolation, is so far something of an accomplishment.  And in the wake of this health crisis is the enormous economic suffering rivaling the Great Depression.  For many hard working people, particularly those connected with the travel and leisure industries; small shop owners and independent restaurateurs, this pandemic has seen hardships that can’t be measured.  An American Tragedy.  So much of it could have been mitigated.

As for us, I’ve been unusually silent during the past several weeks as we did the unthinkable, we moved.

The experience of moving is bad enough in one’s younger years but the accumulation of 50 years of living as if tomorrows are endless makes moving to another home even more traumatic. And during 2020?

The triangulation of circumstance led us to this at this time.  The plan was formulated this way: as boating became too demanding, physically and financially, we would move off the water, into a smaller home, into a gated community, where some of the responsibilities of home owning are absorbed by the HOA.

We had had our house on the market for some time with this thought in mind but at the beginning of the pandemic we took it off deciding we would stay put, try to be safe and wait this out.

Maybe it was cabin fever, but we impulsively rented a mountain-view home near Asheville for several weeks in September.  We figured we could pack our SUV with all needed supplies, and sit on a porch overlooking the Pisgah Mountain Range and read to keep our minds far from reality.  Shortly after we arrived our real estate agent called to tell us a fair offer, clearly out of the blue, was presented to him to buy our home, while it was off the market no less. The wise decision would have been to wait, but we rationalized that by hiring a full service mover, they packing and unpacking, some of the stress and risk would be minimized.  This was not well thought through.  Especially considering we had no idea where we were going.

Our main concern was how to do this and avoid COVID.  The moving company explained their protocols, masks at all times and the logical explanation that as their movers work as a close team, one member of the team would not expose the others if he did not feel well.  Also, when preparing for the move, a bit of serendipity, for I found a dozen N95 masks still in their wrappers tucked away in our garage which I had purchased years before for a sanding and stripping project.  Of course, long forgotten.  That gave us some measure of security while moving.

There were still risks.  In particular a free-lance Internet / AV person the moving company recommended who would be immediately available once moved in to connect and trouble shoot a whole new cable set up, and get our computer and TVs working, a challenge in this day and age.  He came, started connecting things, some unsuccessfully, and announced that he had to leave for an hour as he had a Doctor’s appointment but would be back to complete the job.  He returned, worked for another half hour with Ann, still not being able to connect everything.  He did however know how to wait very successfully while she wrote out his check!

That would be bad enough if it were the end of the story.  No, we found out two days later that his Doctor’s appointment was to be tested for COVID and he was positive.  Yes, he consciously put us at risk (we were both wearing masks, however).  The next ten days were a living hell of anxiety, my being tested twice and my wife once.  Masks do work, as we were both negative and completed the quarantine period.

Even now, weeks after moving, the house is slightly chaotic, but coming into shape.  I look forward to the days when I can return to real writing and the piano, although I’m slowly ramping up.

So how does one achieve any semblance of normalcy during such times?

Each person has had to find his / her own answer.  The basics must be covered, food, shelter, access to health care.  Shame on the US Congress that for many these cannot be taken for granted, but I’m trying not to make this a political invective.  It could easily turn that way.

For us, we are fortunate to have those.  So outside of family and friends, there are four major life purposes:  music, theatre, reading, and travel.  I used to include boating in that mix.  No more, a major phase in our lives, closed.  Travel is not remotely safe.  Reading, except for the news, has essentially been put on hold.  One has to have an inner sense of tranquility I think to leisurely enjoy fiction.  

FaceTime has been a life saver to see family and friends (as many, we have not seen our adult children since Thanksgiving 2019, except virtually).  Thankfully, Zoom and YouTube has kept theatre and music in our lives.

Music is divided into two parts for me, performance and listening.  My piano “gigs” at retirement homes and playing on opening night at Palm Beach Dramaworks have ceased now for nearly a year.  That usually meant preparing concerts primarily focused on The Great American Songbook.  Now, not having such venues has rendered me a vessel with no rudder.  So, I find myself just randomly going through my collection of thousands of songs and in the process finding pieces I’ve never played before – not many but I’ve found a few gems. 

The other part of our musical life has been to attend professional performances, primarily jazz.  Oh, what we took for granted before, the ability to go to a jazz jam at the Jupiter Jazz Society on Sundays, and special performances all around town and even going on a Jazz Cruise right before the pandemic hit. 

One of the performers on the cruise was Emmet Cohen, a young jazz pianist we saw several years ago at Dizzy’s in NY and have admired ever since.  He is gifted, can play all forms of jazz, personable, and reverent of jazz history.  He is the whole package.  In July I wrote about his innovative “Emmet’s Place,” a Monday night streaming jazz performance where he plays with his bassist Russell Hall and drummer Kyle Poole as a trio, with frequent guest performers, at first all virtual guests and then in person, all of this streaming from his apartment in Harlem.

Since I wrote an entry about his virtual performances, he has expanded his technology to include multiple fixed cameras and a producer to switch back and forth from the appropriate camera angle.  All of this free on YouTube and Facebook!  Well, nothing is really free so we’ve become and probably (hopefully) along with thousands, members of “Emmet Cohen Exclusive,” a means for him to raise financial support for his group and for what he is doing.  One of the benefits is access to some private concerts, but the mainone is supporting an upcoming superstar of jazz and his colleagues.  

The other solace has been the regular Palm Beach Dramaworks play readings and interviews.  That’s another twice a week event and they are free if one registers with the box office for tickets.  They even did readings of a trilogy by the award-winning Lynn Nottage and then Producing Artistic Director, Bill Hayes, followed that up with a live interview with the playwright as part of their Contemporary Voices Series.  To sign up for their free readings and interviews, check with their box office 

PBD of course is not the only theatre offering Zoom readings or YouTube “productions.”  This brings up a dilemma for me.  I’ve been reviewing plays in my blog and published a collection of them in Explaining It to Someone: Learning From the Arts.  In fact, this book contains 10 years of Palm Beach Dramaworks reviews. 

Here’s the conundrum: How does one “review” a reading?  Theatre is made up of so many elements and in reviewing a performance, the reviewer is evaluating the gestalt.  It’s the overall experience, right down to the audience’s reactions as they are part as well. 

While I was in college, I took a course that focused on theatre as literature, as philosophy, and when you peel away all the elements, that is what you are left with.  If the play isn’t meaningful to the audience in some way, it could have all the other elements, great acting, directing, staging, etc. and it could still fail.  I think the future of reviewing will be more dependent on the core of the theatre although as the technology of producing virtually improves so will all the other elements come into play, but never the way live theatre does.

So my hope for 2021, under a new administration, and with effective vaccines, that there is a chance to reclaim a semblance of “normal.”  Meanwhile, for us, virtual theater and music have buoyed our spirits.

At this time of year I normally try to post a video to celebrate the season, seeking “holiday music” which is somewhat overlooked.  As we just moved I’m weeks or months away from being able to post performances.  But to mark the season, I’ll include here something I posted six years ago, “It's Love -- It's Christmas,” my most viewed Christmas piece.  No wonder, it’s by the great jazz pianist Bill Evans, an unlikely composition for him.

May 2021 be a year to celebrate.  2020 will go down in infamy.