Somewhere Out There...

 

My head hurts thinking about it, but in reading about 1968, I’m reminded  that our Mission to the Moon was happening at the same time as the Vietnam War raged on.

That year, the message from the Apollo 8 Space Capsule was a reading from the book of Genesis in the Bible.  

What if, instead, it had been something like this:

Message to the Universe

We have human beings here who are smart enough to have invented this device which ushers in our presence in outer space. But, even though we possess so much intelligence, we are in deep trouble.  We have not been able to figure out how to live peacefully with each other.

We have also not been wise enough to respect our natural habitat.  Our life style is destroying this planet to the point where we can actually envision our extinction.  Yet no one has the will to turn things around.

If you hear this message and are more advanced, we could surely use your help.

Safety Sirens

 

Boeing Aircraft, once the pride of American "know how" is now the "screw loose" corporation whose fake doors are the target of a million jokes.  How low can you go?

Bill Saporito, a journalist studying the industry, says changes in Boeing's corporate culture led to this disaster.  Pride in engineering and careful production gave way to outsourcing and sidestepping unions.

This is a story with which I am totally familiar.  For several years I worked for the National Safety Council.  My job was to find fresh ways to tell the safety story over and over again. Behind my continuing effort at variety was the core idea:  safety is not an expense.  It provides an enduring competitive advantage.

I guess the Boeing bosses (and there has been a new one almost every year) thought I was writing fiction.  And now they face the facts.

The Invisible

 

1968.  What do you remember?  The men in my class studying that tumultuous year remember one thing vividly:  their draft number.  As a woman, it's hard to imagine the lottery of life or death inflicted on that young generation.  Some feelings of awe still remain when I think of their plight.

As for the more privileged, they trembled over paying tuition and keeping their grades up.  Staying in school was their lifeline.

And today, how many of us know a soldier?  Not me.

The New NIMBY

 

There are so many things the White Sox need right now.  Basics.  Better pitching, fielding, a dynamic manager.  So, what's in the news about the White Sox? They are considering land in the South Loop for a new stadium. That's right, the stadium they have now is only about 30 years old but it's time to build something new!  Take that, Wrigley Field.

What is it with these Chicago sports team owners?  The Bears have been roaming around Chicago and the suburbs for the past few years looking for some taxpayers willing to line the owners' pockets.  We're getting a little wiser now so the Bears are still looking.

Here's what we know: the housing crisis lies elsewhere.  Let's work on that.

Worst Weather

 

If you lived through the 1967 snow storm like I did, we're both entitled to roll our eyes at the apocalyptic predictions and warnings going on.  On TV, on my phone, even on my Echo. (Alexa says "Be careful.")

When I got my car this morning, Mario warned me about the "wind chill. " That's when I got cranky.  "I'm too old for 'wind chill'.  I got through more than half my life before it became 'a thing'."

The next "big doom" event are the football games this weekend. My only Bears game at Soldier Field was the famous "Fog Bowl" in 1988.  Couldn't see a thing.  Had to hear on the radio that the Bears won.

See?  I'm still cranky.

This Morning's Dig

 

CJ and I cleaned out my locker this morning.  And yes, "my life flashed before my eyes."  I'm glad I found my wedding pictures and other photos.  I didn't pause to examine everything or get caught up in deciding what to keep.  CJ carted most ot it away.

My favorite discovery was a box of campaign pins from my marching and protest days.  I'm going to wear my Gene McCarthy button next week when I attend my class on 1968.

Authenticity counts.

My Furry Friend

 When I got on the elevator yesterday, there was an attractive woman wearing a very attractive fur coat.  “Oh," I said, “Im so glad to have a furry friend in the building. I have a few furs in my closet that I love to wear. My friends call me a ‘holdout’.”

My favorite is a long haired raccoon jacket that makes quite a statement.  It originally belonged to my friend Beverly who decided to become  “manmade” only.  I know when she met St. Peter a few years ago, he let her right in. I guess I’ll have to take my chances.

I’m not making a fur statement very often these days.  Global warming and my old age reluctance to spend much time out in freezing weather have left “the animal” feeling lonely.

Those basketball players in their huge fur coats sure look good.  Speaking of that, I only repeat my wonderful Wilt Chamberlain fur story upon request.  

Are We Free?

There’s a debate going on between physicists and the rest of us over “free will.”  The physicists say that our actions are particles moving through our bodies and subject to the laws of matter apart from individual decision. 

The response is: “Not so fast.”  If science is going to suggest that the very way we experience existence is a delusion,  we need to work harder to solve this mystery.  Find some way toward compatibility.

The last time I paid attention to this stuff was when it was about “objective reality.” You remember.  “When a tree falls in an unattended forest, does it make a sound?”  Or, “is there even a tree…or a forest?”  Observation determines reality.

I’m going to hang on to “free will” while the debate goes on. And, I believe that compatibility is the worthy goal.  After all, if someone (or AI) uses the movements of particles OR  “free will”  to blow up the world, the physicists are going to disappear along with everyone else. 

When it Gets Old

 I'm going through my own version of the Justin Fields "should he stay or should he go?" drama.  In my case, it's "should I stay in my condo or go into assisted living?"  The sports guys and gals have managed to fill the air with their Fields chatter for the entire season.  And now that the choices have to be made and there's no clear answer, it's getting even more intense.

Since my chatter is in my head and in conversation with Bill and a few friends, I'm getting bored with the back and forth.  And, they probably are too.

Best to remember, it's better than the ice flow, right?

The Fans are Weeping

 

This is definitely NOT what I want to show up on my Facebook page:  White Sox Viewed as one of the Worst Teams in MLB Heading into 2024.  It's from the Score, one of our biggest sports radio stations.  Unfortunately I'd believe it if it came from anywhere.

I'm used to cheering for the losing side. It's the fate of any lefty in politics, and any Chicagoan in sports. The rumor is that Reinsdorf wants the team in Nashville and only the league is making him stay put.  Why do we have such miserable owners!  

The beautiful Steve Goodman is gone.  So we don't even have him to fashion a decent lament.

New Year Buddha

 I'm  going to have coffee this afternoon with my friend Soo.  I like to check in with her every so often to get the Buddhist perspective.  Does a new year mean anything to those who focus on "the big picture?"  Does "t'was ever thus" prevail?

Soo likes to go to retreats.  Silent meditation.  Buddhist teaching.  I like this idea of "quieting the mind."  It is one of those goals that is always beyond my reach.  I think my quest is a lazy one.  I admit I'm probably satisfied with my noisy mind.

Phyllis gave me a little Buddha a few years ago when I had a heart attack.  It is on the shelf above my desk.  Whenever I dust there, I like to hold it for a second or two.

I'm sure Soo would understand.

1968 Forever

 John Carlos, Tommie Smith and Peter Norman 

1968 Olympics

1968.  What comes to mind?  Vietnam? King on the balcony? Kennedy in the kitchen?

For us, the immediate image is Grant Park.  Clean for Gene and Abby Hoffman up against "Shoot to Kill" Daley and the Cops.

1968.  Not just here, but everywhere.  Students protesting in Paris, Germany, in the Soviet countries, and being gunned down in Mexico City.  1968 was a world wide movement. An explosion of determination to change despite the brutal efforts to suppress it.

Anand Giridharadas is a journalist and an astute observer of the current scene.  He says that the only movement here now is around Trump and Trumpism. Ugh.

The last time I felt like playing my Pete Seeger album was when Bernie burst on the scene.  There has to be a better response to Trump than "you have no choice but to vote the other way,"

My hope is that 2024 has some of 1968 still left for us to call upon.

Happy New Year

 

Imagine all the People

Living Life in Peace