It’s Time to Bring the 2nd Amendment Up To Date

 

Predictably, I had to leave out much, even key arguments, to consolidate this Op Ed piece on Gun Control for publication in the June 4, 2022 Palm Beach Post.  The online version invited readers’ comments and I was astonished by the personal vitriol it generated, just more evidence of our broken country.  All those comments were shielded by anonymity.

While the Constitution’s 2^nd amendment gives its citizens the right to bear arms, it has to be open to interpretation and refinement as times change.  With the radical metamorphosis of the “arms” of the 18^th century, its definition (and its original purpose) should have been steadily narrowed; otherwise, at its most absurd extreme, munitions manufacturers could be selling tanks, bazookas, you name it at your local gun shop. Meanwhile, that same Constitution gives States inherent "police power" to protect public health and safety.  One would think that those who do not carry guns should have the “freedom” to live without threats from those who do carry guns.

The freedom concept is not too far removed from one that pertains to tobacco.  Until the full impact of being exposed to second-hand smoke became well known, nonsmokers essentially had no rights.  Smokers “lost” their “freedom” to smoke in public once the tobacco industry lost its grip on the narrative it controlled.  Things must change when public health and safety are demonstrably at risk. Since Columbine more than 300,000 students have experienced or witnessed gun violence at school. It is time for our children no longer have to fear attending school, as well as their parents for sending them. 

My article makes the point of comparing gun registration to automobile registration and regulation.  Both instruments are potentially dangerous and laws governing their ownership and use are needed.  Absurd say the gun lobbyists.  But is it?

Imagine an alternative universe where automobiles were not invented until the last twenty years.  These same people would be arguing that their “freedom” is being curtailed having to register vehicles, getting licenses, being tested, requiring them to obey traffic laws. Having government oversee gun sales would also control how many one person could own without being declared a dealer (as it is with autos), and therefore be subjected to another level of scrutiny.  Mass shooters have a tendency to have arsenals, owning more than one gun and in some cases huge collections. Red flag!

The tired argument against the foregoing is it doesn’t stop the “bad” guys and that it would not immediately eliminate mass shootings.  Agreed!  But over time, the mandate of registration, with laws governing the consequences of the failure to register, report sales to another person, etc. is a more permanent solution.  Australia had a successful buyback program for guns.  Buy them back, no questions asked, putting a premium on assault weapons, banning the purchase of the same.  Anyone possessing such a weapon after the moratorium or selling one would be breaking the law.

Expensive, yes, but it must start sometime, or we will be having a new Memorial Day for school children.  Are their lives worth discarding for the “freedom” to own assault weapons?

YET…Senate Republicans have already said that they will not consider the regulations experts think are central to stopping mass shootings: an assault weapons ban such as we had until 2004, limits on ammunition magazines, and expansions of background checks to cover private gun sales are all off the table. They also say an age limit of 21 to purchase an assault-type rifle like that AR-15 is unlikely. – Heather Cox Richardson, June 7, 2022 “Letters from An American”

 

‘The Belle of Amherst’ –Emily Dickinson Inhabits Palm Beach Dramaworks

 

This stunning production incorporates the best features of the streamed version, which was broadcast by Palm Beach Dramaworks last year, while showing the power of live theatre to move an audience.  It shines a bright light into the very soul of the enigmatic poet, revealing her art and Emily herself.  This first-person monologue speaks truths about life and death with wisdom that came strictly from within, looking back at her life from her early 50s.  Margery Lowe gives an incandescent performance, breathtaking in range and passion.

 

The Belle of Amherst was meticulously researched by William Luce who wrote it in the mid 1970s inspired by the actress who would play the role on Broadway, Julie Harris.  She is closely identified with the play.  In addition to Luce’s brilliant integration of 19th century sensibility with Dickinson’s letters and poems, the Palm Beach Dramaworks production with Margery Lowe playing Emily, breathes real life into the character and her setting.  One would never know there is only one woman on the stage.

 

Lowe is not only a doppelganger for Emily; she also played her in a two-hander premiere at Dramaworks in 2018, Edgar and Emily. That work was lighthearted, comic in many ways, and you really didn’t get to fully know Emily as you do in Luce’s play.   

 

Lowe’s Emily is filled with life and expectations and the acceptance of her obscurity as a poet, although secretly hoping for publication.  She has her “words” and words are her life.  Yes, she must seek “the best words” and they swirl all about in her observations of nature, light, love, and the routines of living as well as the inevitability of death.  Although I have seen Lowe perform in many plays over the years, this is the one I will always remember.

 

William Hayes, The Belle of Amherst’s director, also doesn’t see this Emily as a shy reclusive intellectual, but, instead, a passionate observer, almost to the point of breathlessness, highlighting her mischievous side, capturing her vivaciousness as well as her vulnerability.  And she’s a great cook (her own opinion)!  He has her moving to and fro, from her writing desk to her bed, to the parlor, sitting on the floor with her scraps of writing and her finished poems.  All this while talking not only to the audience, and to herself, but to friends and family, one sided, of course; only she can hear the other’s reply.  Nonetheless, the audience can divine the other side from her reactions. 

 

In the streamed version Hayes had to be concerned about the camera view and now live theater has liberated the director to bring the full expanse to the audience, including the many comic touches which the streamed version could not fully exploit.  Laughter heightens her humanity and Hayes and Lowe capitalize on those moments.  As Lowe said when asked: “nothing beats live theatre. I did the film without a scene partner, but now my scene partner will be right in front of me.”

 

Margery Lowe does it all flawlessly, making an inward journey, inviting us along.  She fully engages the audience, seemingly making eye contact with everyone, creating a sense of intimacy which is rare.  I found myself frequently smiling as if she was talking to me personally.

 

Hayes and Lowe are in perfect sync, and on a magnificent stage designed by the award-winning Michael Amico.  Every detail on the stage has a purpose, the floral arrangements, the large windows upstage, perfect for lighting touches, her flawlessly made bed and dresser, her sacred, small writing desk, the tea cart and service, inspired by historical accuracy.  The entire stage takes on the feeling of a fine tapestry.  And the centerpiece is the trunk of her poems which she finally offers to the audience as her legacy.  “Remembrance’ – a mighty word.”

 

Light imagery is so important in her poems.  Once when we visited her home in Amherst which is now a museum, we were allowed to linger in her bedroom where her writing desk was, to be able to look out those same windows, and see the late afternoon light as she would have seen it.  One becomes acutely conscious of her light imagery and the sparse, enigmatic content of her poems.  Kirk Bookman’s lighting captures similar moments, ebbing and flowing with her emotions, beautifully framing Lowe.  During a rare display of the aurora borealis, colors flood the stage. 

 

Brian O’Keefe’s costumes are stirring.  Not only did he masterfully design and create Emily’s signature white ensemble with the cinched waist and voluminous sleeves, but all the accessories, the shawls, the apron, the bonnet and cape, and parasol add the finishing touches that lend such authenticity to this production.

 

Sound designer Roger Arnold’s ominous church bells chime during a funeral, and when Emily’s normally strict, staid father sound them as the aurora borealis began.  The sounds of a train are in perfect sync with Lowe’s gestures of the local train’s labyrinth path to Amherst or when she follows the clip clop of a horse drawn carriage.  Her favorite bluebird sang outside her window.  Arnold also reinforces PBD’s attention to detail as he chose classical incidental musical selections by a composer and pianist of her time, William Mason, whose music Emily might have heard. 

 

This play demands one’s full attention, but those who give themselves over to this inspired solo performance are in store for a soul searching and satisfying tour de force.  It runs through June 5th at the Don & Ann Brown Theatre in Downtown West Palm Beach.

Golden Years

It’s the literal translation of Anos Dourados by the great Brazilian composer, father of the bossa nova, Antônio Carlos Jobim (also known as “Tom”), whose music was widely adopted by jazz musicians throughout the world.  To me, it’s also those years when the Great American Songbook came into being and flourished.  It still does in the world of jazz and regularly at my piano.

In my piece on Bill Mays I went into some detail about what distinguishes an amateur’s playing from a professional’s.  Someone wrote asking for clarification about my statement “I long ago lost the ability to sight read other than the melody line and the chords and improvise the rest.”  Doesn’t that mean you play by ear, I was asked?  I wish I did, having lost that ability long ago as well.  It is a contradiction I suppose, improvising harmony and the bass from the chords, playing the melody from the treble clef which I read.

With apologies to any professional musician reading this the best way I can explain it is by revealing a bit of serendipity as Covid-19 took control of our lives.  A friend sent me a link to a recording of Anos Dourados I had never heard it before and was spellbound by the melody.  I was compelled to find the sheet music which I managed to do – with chords, no harmonic arrangement and no clef bass.  So I sat down with it at the piano and after a few passes at it, I casually recorded it on my cell phone to mail drop to my friend.  I recently I had to upgrade phones and found that forgotten recording and was surprised by that first take at the song. 

Unfortunately Google and Microsoft do not play well together and there was no way to transfer this to my Windows based computer, so I improvised a transfer having to record the recording and since it is not up to par technically, just saved it in my personal cloud.  Imperfections and all I embed it here and include a photograph of the sheet music. Perhaps this explains better what I was trying to say.

Here’s the melody line and the chords.

 

Here is a link to the recording of the iPhone recording! Although amateurish, having the ability of sit down with a piece of music and just play it has been and continues to be a source of joy. If I first hear it I can capture some of the nuances, but even if I’ve never heard the music, give me the melody line and the chords, and I can play it. Anything up to five flats (D flat major) or three sharps (A major).  That in itself is an interesting anomaly.  I struggle with 4 sharps but not 4 flats, probably because it is less likely to find songs from the Great American songbook written in 4 or more sharps.   

The lyrics remind me of the romantic, lost love ones that might have been penned by Paul Simon, and while the title, “Golden Years” refers to the years when the singer was happy with his now lost love, ironically these are my “golden years” in another sense of the words. 

Baking the Cake

 

It’s a multilayered apocalyptic confection, suitable for a world addicted to dystopian hedonism.   Irreconcilable political ideologies, the plutocracy and the new class of “influencers,” have found the perfect recipe for destroying democracy.  And yet we go on, one step in front of the other, as if life can continue like this.  I’ve avoided these issues in my blog, but not in my mind, so time for a polemic catharsis.

To borrow from Dickens, the human race, like Joseph Marley, now wears the chain it forged in these times, having “made it link by link, and yard by yard; [and] girded it on of [our] own free will, and of [our] own free will [wear] it.”  I am now mixing metaphors (chains and cake), flailing for understanding.

We have embraced the kleptocratic emperor who wears no clothes, so transparent in his horrific iniquity and ignorance, but so in sync with popular culture, bolstered by social media.  We have become vassals to the very technology we now can no longer live without (somehow we managed before the ubiquity of the smart phone).  An agnotological oven has baked the cake and forged the chains.

It’s become a topsy-turvy world where an indoctrinated post-truth minority has turned the Bill of Rights and the Constitution on its ear.  The archaic Electoral College was almost toppled by its vulnerability to manipulation in the last election and state Republican bodies are now arranging for the members of the College to become their marionettes. 

The ideals of the Democratic Republic are under siege.  The Supreme Court was the first to topple.  The imagined rights of individuals hijacked those that the social compact of the Constitution was supposed to ensure.  One only has to consider the endless jousting over vaccines and mask mandates in a pandemic that has killed one million in the U.S.  Or the “rights” of military-style weapon owners transcending the right of society to live safely.  Only a morally bankrupt society would tolerate more guns than there are citizens.

The previous administration laid the long-term groundwork for January 6, and its execution on that fateful day using mob psychology.  Sedition, an act of a third world country was perpetrated in front of our own eyes, and yet here we are more than a year later still waiting for justice to prevail. 

The pandemic hastened supply side issues, labor shortages, the flooding of the financial markets with liquidity, and now, the consequence, inflation.  This will be borne on the backs of those who can least afford it with increases in transportation, housing, and food outweighing other inflation measures.  Not discussed much is the elephant in the room: as the Federal Reserve increases interest rates, the current National Debt of $30 Trillion will have to be financed at higher interest rates, a self-fulfilling prophesy (in the absence of higher taxes on the rapidly growing uber-wealthy class) of either default or still higher inflation in the future so debt can be retired with depreciated dollars.  One only has to look at the US Debt Clock which is a real time pulse of our economy and debt.

The Russian invasion of Ukraine assaults our senses daily, accompanied by a feeling of helplessness without risking a nuclear war.  It is far beyond my understanding to discuss this horror in any kind of detail.  Finger pointing can be found for whatever position one wants to take.  Putin very quickly referred to slaughtered Ukrainians as “fake news.”  Doesn’t this resonate?  We have forged the chains of gaslighting over years of social media.  Four years of the prior administration made “fake news” the centerpiece of how to manage its citizens where truth/lies are fungible according to one’s own belief and feelings.  In fact, feelings are as valid as scientific evidence. 

How all this will end is anyone’s guess; nothing is beyond the realm of possibility, including a civil war or a nuclear war between East and West.  Civil war is “easier” to imagine than the latter, but the April 30 Wall Street Journal carries an opinion article by Peggy Noonan, Putin Really May Break the Nuclear Taboo in Ukraine which goes to that very place.  She makes a persuasive argument:  “It seems unthinkable, but American leaders’ failure to think about it heightens the risk it will happen.”

Indeed, we have forged the chains, link by link. By weakening democracy here we have emboldened Putin’s actions with heretofore unimaginable consequences.

 

The Soviet Union detonated its first atomic bomb, known in the West as Joe-1, on Aug. 29, 1949, at Semipalatinsk Test Site, in Kazakhstan