Month: September 2022

The Eyes of History

“If I had my way, I would today build a wall about the United States so high and so secure that not a single alien or foreign refugee from any country upon the face of this earth could possibly scale or ascend it.”

Sound familiar? Could almost be a sound bite from the 2016 Presidential campaign or current political discourse. It is a statement one can imagine hearing at Trump’s recent rally in Ohio. But it was made by North Carolina Senator Robert Reynolds around 1939 in response to the growing Nazi threat in Europe.

This was one of the many echoes that struck me as I watched “The U.S. and the Holocaust,” the  Ken Burns’ documentary that aired on PBS last week. It can still be streamed for free.

Today it is appropriate, it is Rosh Hashana, the Jewish New Year, to reflect on the lessons that could be learned from Burns’ film. Those lessons could be learned if one watched the six-hour series. Sadly, the people who most need to see it, likely did not. It was hard to watch, painful, but so important because of the reverberations that continue to plague our country now. I will need to write more than one essay to explore it.

So many themes addressed by the film are alive today. I believe there is something to be gained by considering them. These issues are thorny, but we need to be honest and talk about them.

First, a word about terminology. Immigrant, refugee and migrant are all words used to describe people arriving at our borders. Theoretically these words mean different things, though I don’t believe there are agreed upon international definitions. A refugee is generally understood to have been forced from their home, while a migrant seeks another home voluntarily (it has the connotation of not necessarily being permanent and can be within a country, like migrants from the Dust Bowl back in the 1930s). An immigrant, on the other hand, is thought of as seeking permanent status in a new country. However, the ‘voluntary’ nature of the person’s move can be difficult to assess. For purposes of clarity in this essay, I am addressing refugees, though the lessons we take from our experiences from World War II are broader than that population.

One of the questions raised is: could/should the United States have allowed more Jewish refugees into the country in the late 1930s and early 1940s. We face this question today on a myriad of fronts – refugees from Ukraine, from Venezuela, from other war-torn or famine-afflicted states, or people displaced because of climate change (flooding, fires).

In the past people argued that we didn’t understand the risk to European Jewry, but as this documentary makes clear, that simply wasn’t true. It was known and it was known early enough to have acted. However, fear was an obstacle; the fear of spies among refugees – that there would be bad actors even among the Jews who were so threatened. That’s where another theme intersects: propaganda.

The Germans were masterful at stoking the flames of anti-Semitism, portraying Jews as evil, all-powerful, Communists. The image was believed even if it was internally inconsistent. Millions, and that is not an exaggeration, died as a result of that combination of fear and acceptance of propaganda – acceptance not just in the United States but in other developed countries that could have taken them in but were vulnerable to that toxic mix.

What can we learn from this? Maybe, just maybe, we need to be careful about stereotyping. When a whole group is portrayed as one thing – Mexican drug lords, Syrian terrorists – it is incumbent on us to think critically. It isn’t that there aren’t Mexicans who could be connected to the drug trade or Syrians who could be terrorists or Jews who could be communists. There are or were, but to what degree? Were the majority? That’s preposterous. The first question is:  Are the refugees at risk of death? If they are, the second question is: can we help in a way that minimizes the danger to our own citizens?

We have been plagued by the question of who can enter our country since its inception. We can’t keep pretending that it is new or that we don’t have biases that impact our policies. I am not suggesting that we allow unrestricted entry. The dialogue on this issue is so poisoned as to make it nearly impossible to discuss rationally. I am not aware of anyone, certainly not President Biden, who is advocating open borders.

The reality is that the vast majority of refugees are ordinary people trying to escape intolerable, life-threatening circumstances. One of the things the documentary so effectively illustrated is the individual stories – several Jewish brothers came to America in the 1910s, one went back to Poland and was never able to re-enter our country. He, along with his wife and children, died at the hands of the Nazis. The family that remained in the United States was devastated by their inability to help and lived with guilt and pain for the rest of their lives. We can become anesthetized to the pain of the individuals if we don’t take the time to understand their stories. It took years in a displaced persons camp for my father-in-law to gain entry to the United States, at least he made it.

The United States in the lead up to and during World War II, as is true today, didn’t want non-Northern Europeans to enter our country, they didn’t want the majority white, Anglo-Saxon Protestants to be ‘overrun’ by ‘ethnic others’. Semitic people were less desirable. It was chilling, and appropriate, that Ken Burns concluded the documentary with footage of the march in Charlottesville; showing men with tiki torches chanting “Jews will not replace us.” While that sentiment might not represent the opinion of the majority of Americans, it is frightening that our president was unwilling to clearly and unabashedly rebuke the marchers. It revealed something we don’t want to see, but we cannot ignore. If we want to keep our claim to being a force for good in this world, and maintain our democracy, we must face the demons which lie within. We cannot be complacent in the face of the evil. If a politician, no matter what other positions they take (they may ironically be a supporter of Israel), is unwilling to stand up to white supremacists, we must reject them regardless of party affiliation.

The answer to the question I posed above is that the United States could have and should have done more. Let’s not be in the position in the future of coming up short in the eyes of history.

Views From My Car Window

Though I don’t consider myself a photographer, I do like to take pictures. I find that, as long as I don’t get too caught up in the mechanics of it, it helps to notice the beauty around me and to solidify the memory in my brain. I snapped a lot of pictures on our trip through the southwest, many from the window of the car as we were speeding down the highway. Gary prefers to drive so I ride shotgun, doing the navigating, but mostly taking in the scenery. Here is some of what I saw as we passed through parts of New Mexico, Arizona and Utah. It seems to me that almost all of southern Utah could be a national park. I hope you enjoy the views.

It is a spectacular country that we live in. I am grateful I got to see a portion of it – and that I got to see it with Gary, the best travel companion I could ask for.

Road Trip (and More)!

I originally planned this trip to the southwest of the United States in 2019 long before I had ever heard of Covid-19. We were supposed to go in May of 2020 but had to cancel, much to my disappointment. Well, we are taking the trip now!

This past Friday we flew from Albany to Albuquerque, New Mexico, leaving very early in the morning. Other than a misunderstanding about our hiking sticks – I thought they could come on as part of my carry-on baggage, TSA disagreed. They characterized them as ‘weapons.’ You’ll never guess who won that battle. We had to leave the security area and check our bags. We were early enough to get to the Delta check-in counter and back through security a second time so there was no issue. Otherwise, our travel to Albuquerque was uneventful, long (because we had a four-hour layover in Atlanta) but uneventful. Given the horror stories one hears about air travel these days, I am grateful.

We picked up our rental car and promptly got on the road to Santa Fe which is only a little over an hour drive. As we exited the small airport and got on the highway I did look around Albuquerque trying to find evidence of Walter White and Jesse Pinkman, to no avail.

On the road in Albuquerque

The landscape looked about what I expected. It got prettier and prettier as we approached Santa Fe.

Snapped from our moving car

We checked into our hotel, the Inn on Alameda, a mere 14 hours from when we started our day. But it was still early enough to go explore a bit and get dinner. The gentlemen who checked us in was friendly, efficient, and provided us with good information about restaurants and nearby attractions, and a map (I love maps!).

Though we had not planned it to coincide, this was the weekend of Fiesta in Santa Fe. It is an annual celebration of the city’s Spanish heritage. The festival has evolved over recent years in recognition of the complicated relationship between the Spanish settlers, the indigenous people and the Mexicans who also ruled the area for a time. From our perspective, as tourists, what it mostly meant was that the city square had food and craft booths set up, as well as a stage where various performances were featured. It made for a fun, lively time.

After dinner we walked back to our hotel in a light rain. We basically collapsed in our bed so we would be ready for our scheduled walking tour the following morning.

We met up with our tour guide at a lovely coffee shop. He gave us an overview of the area’s history as we sipped our coffee. Then we started our tour. Here are some scenes from our tour:

The tour ended at the Georgia O’Keeffe museum. We enjoyed looking at her work and learning  her history. Women who are brave enough to forge their own path are inspiring – and she certainly did that. Plus, I like many of her paintings.

Not a ‘typical’ O’Keeffe, but I appreciated it. She did live in New York City for 20 years after all

We came back to our hotel, legs aching more from standing than walking, we had been on our feet for about 4 hours. Rather than make life complicated, we had lunch at our hotel. They had delicious offerings, as it turned out.

After a brief rest, we headed out again to explore – this time to Canyon Road where many of the art galleries are located. It is amazing how many talented people there are in this world. The paintings and sculptures were breathtaking.

Sunday morning, we had breakfast at the hotel. I couldn’t leave Santa Fe without getting a magnet – I make a point of collecting magnets from wherever I travel. The wall in our mud room has metal sheeting attached so I can put them up and remind myself of all the fabulous places I have been. I neglected to get one as we were wandering around on Saturday, so we drove over to the Five and Dime (that was the name of the store!) and I found a great addition to my collection. Now we could move on.

We had only 7 hours of driving ahead of us! – to get to Antelope Canyon, Arizona. Gary and I don’t mind long car rides, though this was pushing it. Some observations: The northwestern part of New Mexico is kind of depressing. Some of the landscape is beautiful, but some of it is dreary and desolate. You also see the poverty of the native peoples – pawnshops, scrap yards, and not much else in the way of industry.

Here are some photos shot from the car as we drove through New Mexico and into Arizona

Our destination was Horseshoe Bend, Arizona, where the Colorado River emerges from the Grand Canyon. We finally made it. We started our day in 55 degree Santa Fe. We emerged from our car into 90 degree blazing sun. It was a 1.5 walk from the parking lot to the site. Fortunately, we had water with us, though within minutes the bottled water was hot! But hot water is better than no water in that climate! The walk was well worth the effort.

Then it was on to our bed and breakfast – only 30 minutes away. Our host provided a beer for Gary and a glass of  well-chilled Chardonnay for me (a generous pour, too!). Ahhh! Lovely. We caught a beautiful sunset and moonrise before going to sleep.

view from the B&B rooftop deck at sunset
Moonrise

We have finished 3 days of our vacation, 6 more to go with so many more magnificent places to see (Antelope Canyon, Bryce Canyon and Zion National Parks are coming up) before ending our journey in Las Vegas. By the way, did you know that there is a Las Vegas, New Mexico? We were confused by road signs for it as we drove to Santa Fe. We know our geography well enough to realize that Las Vegas is not 125 miles from Albuquerque. Who knew there was another one? One of the many things I learned on this trip. Apparently, New Mexicans refer to it as Las Vegas, and call the one in Nevada ‘Vegas’ to distinguish them.

Can’t wait to see what else I learn.

Art, Artists and Audiences

“And I went to see the doctor of philosophy
With a poster of Rasputin and a beard down to his knee
He never did marry or see a B-grade movie
He graded my performance, he said he could see through me
I spent four years prostrate to the higher mind
Got my paper and I was free”

These are lyrics to the song “Closer to Fine,” by the Indigo Girls, released in 1989. They were the words sung by about 10,000 people attending a concert at Tanglewood in Massachusetts. The Indigo Girls began the song but stopped singing after the first verse and chorus, continued to play their instruments and invited the crowd to take it from there. And we did. It is a powerful thing to be among so many people singing words together – and these aren’t simple lyrics. Not “I love you, yeah, yeah, yeah.”  We were among strangers, and yet we weren’t. We all shared the experience of singing that song for decades, in our cars, in our dorm rooms, in our headphones while we jogged, while hanging out with friends. We were different people, living separate lives, varied ages and backgrounds, but united in finding meaning and connection in that song. It is a unique sensation experienced only when attending concerts in person.

When I bought the tickets a month or two ago, it was to see Brandi Carlile; I didn’t know the Indigo Girls would be the opening act, that was a bonus I learned in the days leading up to the concert. I first became familiar with Brandi Carlile from my local radio station (WEXT) and noted that I liked her sound. I saw her interviewed and was further impressed. I bought the tickets based on that. Then, more recently, I saw video of her performance with Joni Mitchell, and I am a huge fan of Joni, at the Newport Folk Festival. That sealed the deal; I was excited to attend my first in person musical performance since the pandemic began.

Tanglewood’s capacity, with lawn seating, is 15,000. It was close to full (there were some inside seats open until the rains came). Though most had come for the main attraction, it was clear that the Indigo Girls had their own fans, as well. The audience was very enthusiastic from the first notes and the performers fed off the energy of the crowd. I can only imagine how it feels to have lyrics you have written sung back to you by thousands of voices. How validating! Perhaps, after years of it, it becomes old hat. It didn’t seem that way for any of the performers that night. Brandi Carlile exulted, with her bandmates, that after years of playing chowder houses and chain restaurants in the Pacific Northwest, they had made it; they had, in her words, achieved their dream. I couldn’t help but feel happy for her and her talented band as they reveled in the cheers and absorbed the energy of the crowd.

Artists may pursue their art for a variety of reasons. Some may not love the public part, the performing; they may derive more satisfaction from the creative process. Some may choose to generate their work alone; others seek out collaboration. Brandi Carlile appears to enjoy both the performing and the collaborative potential music presents. Writing books, poetry or essays is generally a solitary craft, at least initially. Publication involves others.

No matter how the work is produced, though, the reality is that if you don’t have an audience, it may feel incomplete. People can talk about creating for its own sake, but without a reaction, without any audience, isn’t something essential lost? And, beyond that, the artist certainly can’t make a living without it.

This notion was reinforced by another ‘show’ I attended of an entirely different sort. The Clark Museum, also in the Berkshires, is hosting a Rodin sculpture exhibit. I have always appreciated Rodin’s work, especially The Thinker and The Kiss.

A small reproduction of The Thinker sits on my desk

I learned a few things from this exhibit. Rodin sketched first, then created a clay or plaster model (not necessarily full size). He did not cast the bronze or carve the marble himself; he employed someone to do that. I was surprised to learn that a woman, Camille Rosalie Claudel, did some carving for him. She was his student, assistant, model, and romantic partner for a time (Rodin also had a lifetime woman companion with whom he had a child but that is another story).

Learning that someone else did the carving was interesting on many levels. Part of me feels like the carving is an essential part of the artistry. One of the extraordinary things about sculpture of the human form is coaxing emotion and texture from stone. Does Rodin get credit for doing that if he didn’t do that part of the work?

Is this common practice? I have watched a number of profiles of artists on the news magazine CBS Sunday Morning. When working on large installations, artists have used teams of people to weld, pour concrete and other tasks involved in creating the work. But that struck me as different than having someone else do the ‘sculpting.’ But, where do you draw the line? Does it matter?

I don’t recall when I’ve seen Rodin’s work displayed at other museums whether the person doing the carving was given credit. If they were, I didn’t notice. At least at this exhibit they were.

I was also surprised to find that it was a woman who did the work. Maybe that wasn’t unusual either, he was creating in late 19th and early 20th century and I would not have expected that. It comes as news to me.  

One of the major themes of the exhibit was the role that patrons played in Rodin’s success in the United States. Without a few dedicated supporters, who bought his art, got it displayed in major museums and spread the word about his talent, he would not have become the world-renowned artist he became. It was also interesting to note that many of his patrons were women.

We may have an image of artists as lone creatives, toiling by themselves, perhaps tortured souls. A piece of that may be true. But, if we know about that their work, if they have achieved wide exposure, then it is likely that they have benefitted from a network of people who have supported them. Nothing wrong with that – and I am not suggesting it is luck, though that may play a role for some – but as a writer seeking publication, it is useful to keep that in mind.