I like the sports where the players line up and shake hands at the end of the game. Even as we cheer or cry, we acknowledge that every victory requires that both sides take the field. We shake hands to acknowledge the beauty of engagement.
Victory today…tomorrow yet to come.
In the 100th Year Anniversary issue of the New Yorker there is a thoughtful, compelling article by the Texas based journalist and novelist Lawrence Wright. He goes deep into the story of how a group of nuns met and formed a bond with women on Texas death row. The title Sisterhood gives us a clue about Wright’s broad lens.
Both groups soon realized how similar were their lives of absence and confinement. The nuns and the prisoners accepted and were willing to learn from one another, Nice story. But Wright has more to tell.
The trip to death row is a dark one. These women are young or have been inside for a long time. So, the chaos, cruelty and physical damage came fast. Waiting for them was a twisted
“criminal justice” system. Lawyers who didn't know what they were doing or didn't care. Botched or fabricated evidence. Prosecutors who amped up the crime to almost gleefully go for the big one: the death penalty.
Here’s the question that haunts me: Do we have to live lives of silent contemplation removed from family, work, sex and love to be able to connect with the “other”? Or does ambition, competition, greed, and “worldliness” keep us in a lonely place?
For my baseball class I’m reading an essay by the great Roger Angell. He is sitting next to an old, old timer at a college game. His companion had pitched for thirteen years in the Majors when the White Sox were black and Ty Cobb was celebrated for his hitting.
As they watch, the veteran reacts to the play on the field and talks about the memories it invokes. The game is large enough for both.
I’m an old timer now too. And, I’m watching what’s happening on the field of play. To our country and our world. I remember the days I could march, could work for social justice organizations, could cherish Pete Seeger and Woody Guthrie. Imagine. My life has turned out to be large enough for both.
So many years…and time stands still.
OK physics. I respect you. But please don't mess with what we love about the game. Beating out the bunt. Nailing the runner at the plate with a great throw from center field. Executing a double play or even a double steal. And yes, the occasional home run.You get the idea. The moments you never saw coming when you jump up from your seat in the bleachers or your couch at home.
Yesterday, the Sox sent Martin Perez to the mound in his first time with the team. He was pitching six no hit innings when they took him out. Analytics said his time was up. Wouldn't it have been great if he had gone all the way?
When I was between marriages, my mother decided that it was in our best interest to go together on a cruise. She reached for the gold, selecting the most elegant ship in service: the SS France. Thus, we spent two weeks among the very rich and sometimes famous.
Formal dinners featured champagne and caviar. My newly acquired wardrobe included a full length sequin dress.
Yes. There was the very slight possibility that I might have fulfilled mother’s dreams by landing the very eligible doctor from Boston. But, of course, I chose to hang around with two union bosses from the same town. Probably married. Probably using union dues. Skipped the caviar and kept ordering corned beef and cabbage for dinner. They were so much fun.
Len’s business included a warehouse. It was over on Ravenswood. One day a man came in and asked for a few minutes of his time. He represented a foundation that was working to find jobs for men who had been in prison. “We work very closely with our men. They have been through our program and are trained. We believe they deserve a second chance.”
Len thought it over, talked to the other warehouse people, and ended up turning it down.
Some time later, Len discovered that his office manager, an engaging young woman, had been embezzling small sums from the business for years.
I can’t think about one story without being reminded of the other.
On TV this morning they were talking about how people are developing “relationships” with AI generated “companions.” I don’t think this is particularly new. Except for the AI part. Remember Bill’s movie “Lars and the Real Girl”? Or “Her” with Joaquin Phoenix? In LA, I heard about people putting a blowup doll in the front seat so they could ride in the car pool lane.
One step removed — but the same idea — is our attachment to characters we “love” in the books we read. Some of my favorites are Olive Kitteridge, Ruth Galloway, and Harry Bosch.
I guess AI could set it up so our “companion” would always respond in a way you enjoy. Or, at least not cause any trouble. I’m not ready to give in.
