Author: docallegro

Consulting Psychologist
Specialties in: Cognitve-Behavioral Interventions, Conflict Resolution, Mediation, Stress Management, Relationship Expertise, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and Fluent in Spanish

A Quiet Celebration

A few weeks ago, my wife Lisa and I attended a live Paul Simon concert, titled:  A Quiet Celebration.  Paul played some of his newer songs the first half of the concert, tunes I had little familiarity with, and after the intermission played some of his hits from the past.  Although Simon has had a prolific career in writing many songs, I will address only a few of my favorites, some of which he did play the night of the performance we attended.

Prior to singing Homeward Bound, Simon mentioned he had written this song when he was 24 years old with apparent fond memories.  The opening words are:

I’m sitting in the railway station

Got a ticket to my destination

On a tour of one-night stands my suitcase and

Guitar in hand.

With all of Simon’s success in churning out music in a variety of locales, there remains this underlying wish to return Home where his girl friend or as he writes his “love lies waiting.”  Sometimes the luster that fame brings cannot replace the familiar sights of one’s native environment when one’s sense of loneliness becomes pervasive.  The fans his concerts bring forth meld into one-night stands with little value next to the things Simon misses and loves.

Another favorite of mine, If I Could, is Simon’s preferences by comparison, all of which have a rhythmic chime to them with the first stanza being the following:

I’d rather be a sparrow than a snail

Yes, I would

If I could

I surely would.

The last three lines of the stanza repeat themselves in all but one of the four stanzas of the song.  Much of this song, like so many melodious tunes, resembles the fine language of poetry.  The second stanza begins and ends with the same three lines as the first stanza.

The link between the two stanzas appears to be Simon’s yearning for movement and action over passivity and inertia as reflected by a sparrow and a hammer vis-à-vis a snail and a nail.   The rhyming of the objects adds to the beauty of the song.  The author appears to be seeking a certain freedom as opposed to being stuck in one’s circumstances.  This is elaborated in a different manner in the last comparison made by the songwriter when he desires to be a forestthan a street.  The forest brings us the image of nature unsoiled by the decay of urbanization as personified by a street.

The song ends, not with a comparison, but in the following way:

I’d rather feel the earth beneath my feet

With the same refrain as the above comparisons completing the stanza. I believe those last four lines summarize the theme of the song that represents the active process of fully taking in and appreciating our natural surroundings.  Rather than move with little consciousness nor awareness, it brings us inestimable joy when we actively experience the beauty of our environment.

Mrs. Robinson was perhaps the most famous song that Simon wrote.  We all remember it for appearing in The Graduate, the film that brought Dustin Hoffman immediate fame.  Simon had worked on the song with the intention of it reflecting the past, its tentative title being Mrs. Roosevelt.  When Mike Nichols liked the sound of it, he asked Simon to score it for the movie, The Graduate, that he was in the process of directing.  How different the character of Mrs. Robinson is than that of Eleanor Roosevelt.  In the film, Mrs. Robinson is a middle aged unhappy alcoholic woman preying on Dustin Hoffman, a recent college graduate.  She is the symbol of the lust and tumult of the ‘60’s when the film was made and takes place.  The song depicts Joe Dimaggio, the New York Yankee star, a hero gone and replaced by the looseness and immorality of the present.   The lines of the song reflecting this loss are:

          Where have you gone, Joe DiMaggio?

          Our nation turns its lonely eyes to you

          Joltin’ Joe has left and gone away

          Woo, woo, woo

          What’s that you say Mrs. Robinson?

          Joltin’ Joe has left and gone away.

In the film, when Mrs. Robinson (played by Anne Bancroft) seduces Benjamin Braddock (Hoffman’s role), he loses his innocence.  The metaphoric loss of Joe DiMaggio represents a hero that reflects another time, when life was simpler and not complicated by the hustle bustle and unending cries of contemporary culture.

The irony of these lines was that DiMaggio himself did not understand the symbolism behind the above words.  When Simon and DiMaggio met by chance in a restaurant the latter pointed out to Simon: “I’m a spokesman for the Bowery Savings Bank and I haven’s gone anywhere.”  After his career as a Yankee had ended, DiMaggio’s past stardom gave him the opportunity to do the T.V. ads for a popular bank in New York City. 

At their meeting, Simon explained to Joe that the lines were not meant literally but rather to point out to DiMaggio that he was a true hero of the past where in the present such individuals are in short supply.  According to Simon, DiMaggio accepted the explanation and they shook hands and parted amicably.  Of course, like the song, and indeed to many, DiMaggio’s deeds as a great baseball player were a thing of the past.

Simon finished the concert with one of my favorite songs he and Garfunkel had written:  The Sound of Silence.  The title of the song stands out as it has an oxymoronic ring to it for how can silence sound?  The songwriters express the lack of communication felt by all when they sing: 

          People talking without speaking

          People hearing without listening

          People writing songs that voices never share

          No one dared

          Disturb the sound of silence

When I first heard the song, the imagery of the “flash of a neon light,” a human artifice, only appeared to exaggerate and bring to the forefront the sound of silence.  But, more so, the intensity of the song comes from the oxymoron, sound of silence, that is repeated throughout the song.  That silence has so much power that it appears to have a voice of its own, stifling the will to break free of it by rendering us all in a state of paralysis.  When we hear the words sung so brilliantly by Simon and Garfunkel, we recognize how important communication is and how the lack of it can sorely affect us all.

The Red Sox Dump Rafael Devers 

I had the pleasure of seeing Rafael Devers’ debut game against the Seattle Mariners in Seattle on July 26th, 2017.  Although he went hitless that day, the next day he hit a home run, his first in the major leagues.  Devers’ confidence as a rookie, I believed, augured well for the Red Sox.  The Sox management apparently agreed with my assessment, and before Devers could wander off to another team as a free agent, they rewarded him with a 10-year contract that paid over 313 million dollars two years ago.

When I was coming of age, my father told me that I had adjusted to and handled the vagaries of life quite well.  Baseball, like life, has its own vagaries.  Unfortunately, I do not believe Rafael reacted well to those vicissitudes, so much a part of baseball.  Although most of the sportswriters took the side of Devers after the Red Sox traded him to the San Francisco Giants, I disagreed.  The sportswriters criticized the Boston team’s owners for not treating Devers wisely insofar as they had not communicated to him he would not be playing third base when they signed Alex Bregman, a third baseman, regarded as a much better fielder than Devers.  Was it necessary to tell Devers that they were pursuing a superior player at his position before the offer was made?  I, for one, do not think so.  After all, how would they know that they were going to land Bregman, a highly touted player, who had received a lot of attention from other ball clubs.

Devers balked at management’s desire to use him as a designated hitter.  He stubbornly resisted, stating his position was third base with finality, unwilling to bend to the wishes of management.   The Sox ownership based their decision to choose Bregman as the starter at third base because it was understood that he was the superior fielder.  Throughout his time with the Boston club, Devers had committed more than his share of fielding errors at third base.  Devers’ refused to accept this reality resulting in bad vibes for all the younger players that looked up to Devers for his overall skills as a more seasoned teammate.

So, the season started with Devers as the designated hitter against his will; he did not get a hit for his first 28 at bats striking out much of the time.  It was apparent to me that Rafael had become enslaved by an overactive ego.  Fortunately for the Red Sox, Devers broke out of his hitting slump and began living up to the reputation he had had as an excellent hitter.  But unfortunately, soon after, early in the season, both Devers and his team encountered a second unknown when Triston Casas, the Sox first baseman, suffered a knee injury that put him out of commission for the entire season. 

Because Boston did not have a good substitute for Casas, the management wanted Devers to replace Casas.  The owners tried to encourage Devers to take practice fielding balls at first base, a position regarded as easier to learn than other positions in the infield.  Devers again refused. On May 9th, 2025, John Henry, the principal owner of the Sox along with president Sam Kennedy and Craig Breslow, chief baseball officer, all flew out to Kansas City where the Bosox were playing, to sit down with Devers and talk about the club needs.  The content of the meeting was not made public but, after the meeting, it was evident that Devers did not wish to comply with management’s need to fill the gap left at first base due to Casas’ knee injury.

On June 15th, Devers was traded to the San Franciso Giants, the team that agreed to pick up the 255 million left on Devers’ contract with the Red Sox and send them four pitchers, two in the major league, and two in the minor league.  Perhaps David Ortiz, ex Red Sox Hall of Famer, put it in the most concise yet truthful manner in discussing Devers plight: “Your worst enemy is your ego.”

Recently, baseball’s vagaries once more attacked the Red Sox when their ace, Garret Crochet, pitched an excellent game, in which his team was beating the Los Angeles Angels 1 to 0 going into the 8th inning.  In the bottom of the 8th inning, Greg Weissert, one of Boston’s better relievers came in and allowed Christian Moore, one of the Angel’s worst hitters to hit a home run.  This resulted in Crochet not being able to obtain the win for his stellar performance.  But it does not end here.  In the bottom of the 10th inning, with Boston ahead 2 to 1, Christian Moore hit another home run with a runner on base off Justin Wilson.  That home run ended the game with an Angel victory 3 to 2.

However, it is not like good pitchers never receive team support. When Crochet pitched again against the Cincinnati Reds, his teammates got 7 runs in the 1st inning of the game.  Crochet’s performance, that day was not great because he gave up 4 earned runs and one unearned run in 6 innings.  But the 1st inning lead gave Boston the cushion Crochet needed to win the game at a score of 13 to 6.  The irony here, of course, is that Crochet did not get the win against the Angels where his performance was far better than against the Reds where he was credited for the victory.  Such is the beauty of baseball:  One never knows what is going to happen next.  Rafael Devers discovered this in spring training.  As Big Papi (D. Oritz) alluded:  What’s best for the team takes priority over what’s best for the individual player.

80th Birthday

Many years ago, my mother told me that we criticize the living and eulogize the dead, and given that human tendency, she believed in the importance of celebrating the limited time we have on earth.  My older brother, Benj, and I have thrown some wonderful parties in the past.  Inasmuch as the world suffered the plight of the Covid virus, by necessity I had to bring in my 75th birthday with a quiet romantic dinner with my wife, Lisa.

Suddenly, I found myself soon to turn 80, a milestone event in anyone’s life that has made it that far.  Knowing that this could be one of the last big celebratory events in my life, I went all out for it.  I invited my family, friends of old and new from near and afar to celebrate this occasion.  With the assistance of my wife, Lisa, we planned to have the event at the aquarium in Long Beach.  My roommates from college and relatives were invited to have dinner prior to the big event on Sunday.  Lisa prepared a slide show of our past travels that included many of those I invited to the aquarium.  I spent the greater part of a day writing brief summaries of each of my guests that I hoped would capture not only my relationship with them, but also would highlight some defining characteristic of that person.  I wanted to stay away from the negative focusing on my positive memories of everyone.

A friend of Lisa told both of us if she had known in advance that I would talk about everyone at the party, (and there were 90 people there), she would have thought it would be extremely boring listening to it.  But, on the contrary, she indicated that the event sped by and that she thoroughly enjoyed it.

I also planned to visit the family and their children with whom I had stayed in Mexico in 1983 and 1993.  During those times, I had stayed with the parents of three sons and a married daughter, who lived in Guadalajara.  The sons, all about 10 to 15 years younger than I, became close friends, one of them Gonzo, was fluent in English so he would correct my grammar when I made a mistake while speaking Spanish.

Now all but Gonzo was married and so I invited their children with Connie, their older sister, and her daughter to come to dinner with Lisa, Rosie, and me.  Rosie, a friend of mine, who I met in 1990, while working in a bilingual clinic, was born in Mexico. Lisa had become friendly with Rosie, so she asked me to invite her to come with us as her translator.   Lisa knew I would be speaking in Spanish with the family, many of whom did not speak any English, so she said that she would feel more included in the company of Rosie.

For the dinner, I had written a brief essay describing my experience and the good memories I had of my friends’ parents.  While staying with their parents, I had learned the expression:  Mi casa es tu casa that translates literally to my home is your home.  It is a cordiality that Mexicans often show to others and, in my case, I really felt the truth in that saying.  I also recalled the wonderful home-made meals made that I joyfully devoured.   After I had left, the sons had told me their parents thought of me as an adopted American brother.

When it was time for dessert and with some cake being served, everyone spontaneously sang feliz cumpleanos to me.  I was able to talk to many of the children of my friends and, before we knew it, the restaurant was closing as it was after midnight.  It was a wonderful week of celebration and both my American and Mexican friends and family complimented me on their experience in anointing me to that of an octogenarian.

Mental Health in Sports

The belief that athletes are supposed to be immune from emotional problems is based more on myth than reality.  According to the American College of Sports Medicine, 30% of females and 25% of male student athletes suffer from anxiety.  Moreover, 35% of elite athletes in addition to anxiety reported having burnout and depression.

At the Tokyo Olympics in 2020, Simone Biles, world class gymnast, experienced, the “twisties,” a mental performance lapse. Here the gymnast becomes disoriented in mid-air and is unable to do a twisting skill, an athlete, like Simone, previously had done countless times.  When Biles withdrew from participating in the Olympics, she was widely criticized for not overcoming issues that stemmed from mental rather than physical factors.  To her credit, subsequently, Biles pursued therapeutic treatment and, and much to the admiration of her fans won four gold medals at the Paris Olympics in 2024.

Insofar as I am a Boston Red Sox diehard fan, I follow their players quite closely.  In 2022, Jarod Duran, the Red Sox outfielder was having difficulty coping with the long grinding schedule of major league baseball.  His batting average had gone down precipitously from where it had been the year before along with his skills as a fielder where he was committing a lot of errors.  As the season progressed, it had been reported that Duran was suffering from depression.  Furthermore, during the offseason, there were rumors that Duran had had some suicidal ideation.

However, as was the case of Simone Biles, Duran attended to his mental health issues and has performed, as well as management expected, in the ensuing years.  His current level of play is on par with the way he executed prior to the onset of his emotional problems that obviously had affected him. 

A few weeks ago, the Red Sox were playing against the Cleveland Indians at Progressive Field in Cleveland, and a fan at the game began heckling him about his past struggles with his mental health.  Duran responded verbally resulting in the two of them escalating their intensity.  Security personnel at the event then escorted the fan from his seat out of the ballpark.  Management and security then made the decision to ban this fan from coming to any further Cleveland contests for a lifetime.  Major League Baseball applauded this decision. Moreover, the Yankee captain, Aaron Judge, who is having a spectacular so far, added his emotional support to Duran and any player succumbing to the emotional stress that often confronts great athletes. I am not a Yankee fan, but I very much respect Judge in backing up a player from a rival team, as sincere and well-intentioned.  The public needs to better understand, that athletes like the rest of us, are not immune to the stressors borne by their profession.

Animal Farm Revisited

                                     

 President Trump’s use of language reminds me of the classic work by George Orwell, written after World War II, titled Animal Farm.  For those of you who have not yet read the book, I highly recommend it.  It is a satire about communism where the leaders of farm animals rebel successfully against the farmer.  The rebellion is reminiscent of the   Russian Revolution that upended Czarist rule in Russia.  The pigs, the leaders of the animal revolt, represent Marx, Stalin, and Trotsky with one pig, Squealer, representing the propaganda spread by communism.  Underlying the revolution, the pigs create their own philosophy called Animalism that will apply to all the animals at the farm.  One of the laws is: “Whatever goes upon two legs is an enemy. Whatever goes upon four legs or has wings, is a friend.” 

Orwell employed language to demonstrate the erosion of the original laws elicited by the animals when the pigs begin to change the direction and purpose of their revolt.  During President Trump’s campaign, he pledged that he would reduce the inflation that many Americans felt, especially, when they went food shopping.  One of his more frequent chants was that people will be able to afford what they cannot presently under the leadership of President Biden.  In fact, a significant factor contributing to Mr. Trump’s winning the presidential election over Kamala Harris was the economy.

Mr. Trump campaigned that inflation would lessen under his guidance, resulting in a drop of interest rates by the chair of the Federal Reserve, Mr. Powell.  The argument posited that a reduction of the interest rates would be not only good for the stock market, but also for the real estate market where lower interest rates would lower the actual cost of buying a new home.

But as Mr. Trump threatened to impose tariffs on all the countries with whom the United States had a trade deficit, whether friend or foe, the stock market began a rapid sell off.  With the market decline, Presdient Trump changed his tune from a much less optimistic call for the end of inflation and prosperity for all, to a call for people to have patience.  Now, he was saying that in the beginning we will all feel some pain in the economy that might lead to a recession.  But he pleaded with the public, in due time things will improve and any current sense of discomfort will be well worth it.   When he imposed the tariffs on almost all foreign trade, the stock market collapsed.

The part of this declaration that shocked many of Trump’s allies in business was that he no longer appeared concerned about the performance of the stock market like he had previously in his first term as president.  He remained resistant to the pleas of former business supporters of his candidacy.  The unspoken message implied in tariffs to countries that export to us would result in the necessary increase in the price of these same goods.  Perhaps President Trump understood these implications, but nevertheless, he appeared impervious to the consequences of his actions.

Of late, Mr. Trump withdrew from imposing any large levies on all the countries except China in which he increased the tariff foisted upon that country.  He declared a three-month waiting period before placing a much higher tariff on these same countries many of which have been our friends.  The market sighed relief and responded with the Dow Jones Industrial Average going up about 2000 points.  But the next day this momentary breather was snuffed out by a drop of over 1000 points on the Dow.   Two factors are working against both our market and international markets:  1`) President Trump’s unpredictability and 2) The potential repercussions of the tariffs he has imposed in conjunction with his desire to raise the levy of these taxes on all allies in the months to come.

Additionally, President Trump has managed to cast the Ukraine in an unfriendly light commenting that it is responsible for the war against Russia, at one time even referring to Ukraine’s, President, Volodymyr Zelenski, as a dictator.  Mr. Trump has conveyed the idea that Zelenski and not Putin was the aggressor provoking this war.  What is disheartening now is that Mr. Zelensky has said he wants peace with Russia, but Putin refuses to cede his position with his troops, resulting in the continuous bombing of the Ukrainian people.  During the meeting between Trump and Zelensky at the White House, when Mr. Trump said we are holding the cards not you, Mr. Zelensky replied by saying we are not in a card game, but rather we are in a war.  However, true this statement was it did not move Mr. Trump from his position as the superior player if any hope of peace could occur.  If anything, the interaction between Zelensky and Trump helped raise the former’s popularity amongst his people.

The distortion of language was made clear when toward the end of Orwell’s Animal Farm, the wording of the laws had been altered taking on a meaning quite the opposite of their original intent.  Now, for example, the law that had stated: “Whatever goes on two legs is the enemy,”  was changed by the pigs to:  “Four legs good, two legs better.”  The pigs, as rulers of Animal Farm had alienated their followers in their lust for power and the concomitant material rewards that they obtained at the expense of their fellow animals.  Now, I ask, readers, are we approaching the point of no return where Mr. Trump bellows: “Democracy is good but autocracy is better.”

The animals in Animal Farm submitted willfully to the change of laws prescribed by the ruling pigs.  To keep our democracy alive and well we cannot be passive, but rather we must actively protest when we observe the obstruction of the rule of law.  This requires that both Republicans and Democrats forge an agreement to sustain a free society where every man and woman possesses, as per the Declaration of Independence, “the inalienable rights of Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.” 

Trump’s Payback

So much has occurred since my last blog that it is difficult for me to choose a starting point.  President Trump, in an attempt to undo prior political policy, reminds me of a whale, harpooned, flailing madly in all directions, with the sole intent of wreaking havoc and destruction to anything in sight. For the sake of brevity, let me focus in on Trump’s recent call for tariffs that he aims to impose on our allies in Mexico and Canada on April 2nd.  His initial rationale for the imposition of these tariffs was to stem both illegal immigration and the transport of fentanyl, a drug that has caused many American deaths, from entering the United States.

I, especially, applaud, Mexico’s President, Claudia Sheinbaum for her reaction to Mr. Trump.  Rather than taking a neutral or passive stance, she ordered 10,000 Mexican troops to the border and she explained to Mr. Trump, in specific detail, what she had done to secure the border and to fight fentanyl trafficking.  Moreover, rather than use a translator, she thought it best to have the conversation with the American president in English.  Mr. Trump, obviously flattered in the manner by which he was addressed, decided to delay the tariffs he had threatened to inflict on both Canada and Mexico.  As a result of her taking the reins in communicating with Mr. Trump, Ms. Sheinbaum’s approval rating in Mexico reached an all time high going over 75%.

Although I liked the fact that Ms. Sheinbaum had been a scientist and academic before becoming president, I had serious concerns about her leadership when she assumed office on October 1, 2024.  It appeared Ms. Sheinbaum had gained the presidency, in part, by following in the footsteps of her mentor, López Obrador, who she succeeded.  Anabel Hernández, a journalist during the time Obrador was president, wrote an exposé about his connections with the Cártel de Sinaloa in a book entitled:  La Historia Secreta. The book details how this cartel covertly funded the purchase of a home for Obrador in Mexico City.  During his time in office, the cartels continued their nasty business of laundering the money received from fentanyl with the annual rate of homicides, if anything, increasing.  

Furthermore, as a means of increasing his presidential powers, Obrador had made an effort to replace the impartial judges serving Mexico’s judiciary system with lawmakers more favorable to his governing party.  Once Ms. Sheinbaum became president, she accomplished Obrador’s goal when she fired all the presiding judges, who had served independently of party politics.  In their place, she required new applicants to successfully pass an exam with the ostensible hope that these new judges would back her leadership.  This early move by Ms. Sheinbaum did not give me much comfort as to what was to come.

However, recently, I was pleasantly surprised by the new Mexican president’s desire to work out a “deal” with Mr. Trump with the goal of avoiding tariffs that would be most detrimental to the Mexican economy.  I admired her courage in making a strong effort to overwhelm the corruption inherent in the cartels.  When Mr. Obrador was president, several journalists, who reported how the cartels were usurping power, lost their lives. Ms. Hernández, herself, narrowly escaped death when her house was dynamited.  She managed to flee to America; she clearly represented an individual seeking political asylum.  I hope that Ms. Sheinbaum does not suffer any repercussions from her actions in leading the fight to thwart the cartels. In making the future of the Mexican economy more important than any potential cartel bribes or threats to her government, President Sheinbaum has shown she genuinely cares about her people.

After cooperating with Mr. Trump, I’m quite sure Ms. Sheinbaum’s hope was that he would not place a tariff on goods produced in Mexico.  Unfortunately, that hope was dismissed when Mr. Trump stated that he would be placing a 25% on automobiles made everywhere outside of the United States along with tariffs on other goods produced in Mexico. President Trump’s actions against President Sheinbaum and the Mexican people are analogous to a parent spanking a child after he/she made his/her room.  This type of parental behavior very likely would cause an unhealthy confusion with possible ill effects on that child’s subsequent development. 

Mr. Trump’s behavior is unpredictable and so, I’m quite sure that the Mexican citizenry along with the CEO’s of the major car companies in the United States, have their fingers crossed he will once more reverse himself vis-á-vis tariffs. But more importantly, many of us from the outside hope some of Mr. Trump’s loyal followers in Congress will extract the harpoon from his belly, and redirect his impulsive energies to building, rather tearing down all that lies in front of him.

The Art of Eating

The pace of life has accelerated to the point that I have often wondered whether people can actually sit down and enjoy a good meal whether they are dining out or eating in.  In 2012, when I was teaching at a university in Bangkok, on a Saturday evening I attended a classical concert where there was an elegant café.  As I had arrived early, I decided to sample the food being served.  Surprisingly, I noticed that many of the couples were staring at their cell phones, not talking with whomever they were with and certainly not taking the time to enjoy whatever each had ordered on the menu.  Has Thailand, a place where food is adorned, allowed the smart phone to replace what is dining is all about? I sighed to myself: “Is this the new normal?” 

Since that time, the once cherished time set aside for dining and discussion has appeared to have been superseded by the multitude of distractions elicited by cell phones.  I find myself no different than the many others that have succumbed to the accoutrements of modern life where food had become secondary to what is going on in the moment.  So, when I traveled to Bangkok to play some golf, visit with friends and just relax, I made a conscious decision to take my time about eating.  I made an effort to become familiar with the many condiments and spices Thai food presents.  Far away from home, without being swept under by modernity, I began to taste the food in a way I rarely experience.  The last dinner I had, while in Thailand, consisted of Thai spaghetti with an assortment of clams, shrimp, mussels and other fish mixed into the dish.  Indeed, it was yummy.

At the airport, early in the morning, I had enough time to buy a breakfast.  The food was better than typical airport fare, as I was in Thailand, though not particularly great.  At the next table, however, I watched how a young woman, more than likely Thai, went about partaking of the meal she was served.  She had five or six different spices in front of her.  With tender care, she took her spoon (the main utensil in Thailand is the spoon) and slowly sliced her rice and then applied a few spices to this portion mixing it with both spoon and fork before tasting it.  I felt entranced in the manner by which she prepared each bite of food she took from her spoon.  This same treatment of rice mixed with the condiments and the chicken or meat on the side of the dish repeated itself.  It was as if the spoon was the leading piece in a concert with this woman conducting the instruments in a sophisticated manner before allowing the morsel of food to enter her mouth. The combination of patience and skill this woman showed in devouring, a not particularly gourmet breakfast, absorbed me to the point that I didn’t want to disturb her while she ate.

I am quite sure if she were with friends this woman would still enjoy the process of tasting and eating her food.  But observing the way she went about eating made me realize that many of us in the modern world have forgotten that eating is more than just a need but, if we allow it, a great pleasure.  The act of savoring one’s meal by allowing oneself to relax, setting aside any and all distractions, will add to the total enjoyment of the food.  Indeed, taking a time-out from the rapidity of everyday life is an important prerequisite to fully enjoy one’s repast.

The Smile of Mephisto: A Reflection on Family, Memory and Forgiveness

                                

     Family reunions, though often a time of joy, can sometimes dredge up uncomfortable memories.  The onset of one such memory occurred about the time I had relocated to California in my early ‘30’s.  When I first returned to visit family and friends, it was to celebrate a milestone birthday for my father so many of his long-time companions were present.  One of dad’s friends, Hal, sidled over toward me wearing what appeared a wry smile that felt rather odd mostly because I could not understand its source having neither communicated nor seen him for years.  Upon approaching me still smiling, he said: “Well Buzzy (my childhood nickname) are you still hitting your younger brother Andy?”  He had apparently observed this behavior back when I was about 5 years old.

As he walked away, still smiling, his comment left me both stunned and hurt with an added sense of guilt.  Moreover, my respect for Hal’s age and generation rendered me tongue-tied.  Hal had hit a raw nerve by reminding me of my childhood relationship with younger brother.  For years, I had been a middle child with an older and younger brother.  My older brother, Benjy, the first grandchild, excelled in school and involved himself in many academic extracurricular activities.  My younger brother, Andy, received a lot of attention having earned the nickname, “Dew Drops,” due to his dribbling on himself.  Everyone thought “Dew Drops” was precious.  I very well may have developed what has been commonly called middle-child syndrome, that is feeling a sense of perceived personal neglect. Looking back, I suppose I was jealous of them both and so the one I best could take out my frustrations on was my younger brother who was smaller than I.

My father, seeing that I was more athletic and not as scholastically oriented like my older brother, bought a ping pong table.  Though he worked long hours, he managed to spend time playing table tennis with me that brought a special bond between the two of us.  By the time I was 11 or 12 years old, I was beating him in ping pong.  This period proved most helpful to my self-worth inasmuch as I became the city champ in table tennis during my three years in junior high school.

At some point, however, I may have been so disturbed by my birth order, that I pleaded to my mother, especially, to have another child.  The wish was fulfilled with the birth of my youngest brother, Daniel.  By then I was 9 years old.  In an earlier blog, The Gift My Mother Gave Me, I pointed out when I entered high school, I ceased to pick on my younger brother, Andy.  By then I had become president of Elizabeth Youth Good Neighbor Council, among other things, and so had felt good enough about myself to no longer need to fight with Andy allowing the two of us to become, not only brothers, but also close friends.  Because Hal’s comment reminded me of a behavior in which I was not proud, it felt like a shot to my solar plexus knocking the wind out of me.

Subsequently, upon returning to the East Coast I would see Hal perhaps every 5 to 10 years.  I found it most unsettling each time I encountered him. He would approach me with that mocking smile of Mephisto about to take the soul of Faust, and remind me of what I had done to my younger brother.  When I was 51, I got an unexpected phone call from my older brother, Benjy, giving me the sad news that my father had died. My mother confirmed that Hal would be at the memorial for my dad.  For the first time in all those years, I felt little apprehension at the thought of seeing him.   

In essence, finally, I had formulated a response to what I expected him to say that was most predictable.  Because I knew his time was limited as he, in fact, was older than my father, I did not want to verbally assault him and leave him with bad feelings.  Inasmuch as he had been close to my father, I wanted to refrain from being vindictive.  So, at the end of my dad’s memorial, I was delighted when he walked over toward me with that familiar smirk and before he could utter a word I said: “Hal I know what you’re about to say but before you say it, I need to ask you, when I reach the pearly gates of Heaven, is St. Peter going to hold it against me because of this memory you’ve etched in your mind about me hitting my younger brother.  Do you think you can forgive me now, while it’s not too late?” To my surprise, his demeanor shifted.  That grin of Mephisto, once so smug, softened into a much kinder smile.  He replied with genuine warmth: “Bernard, you’re forgiven. I don’t want to be the one keeping you from entering Heaven.” In that moment, I had created a situation that allowed my decades of discomfort to melt away for Hal’s forgiveness, though lighthearted, was also sincere.

About a year later, my mother informed me that Hal had passed away. Knowing myself, I avoided incurring any further guilt but being harsh with Hal that may have been hurtful to him toward the end of his life.  In the end, both of us found closure in a way that allowed us to smile—not with mockery but with mutual understanding.

To See a Child Smile

Although in recent years the pubic, in general, has not held the police in the best of all light, these same men and women in blue, perform a lot of activities for the good of the public that go unrecognized. To illustrate, our job, as volunteers on the Senior Police Patrol, is to assist the Long Beach Police Department in manifesting the good will and deeds it performs for the community.  My partner, Susan, and I were delivering the last batch of toys to different homes that had been designated by the Long Beach Police Department.  These were families in Long Beach that were on the list of those in need. 

As we arrived at the last house, the bag of toys was rather cumbersome and so the father came out to assist.  While thanking us for the toys, he told us he presently was working but looking for a job with the city.  He briefly explained what his employment was as we entered his house to put the goodies inside.  As the father opened the door, we saw a number of children with what looked to be their mother laying on a bed.  Two of the kids stood at the entrance of the house, a girl and a boy.  When I asked their ages, the little girl said she was 3 and her brother 4. 

As the father helped me lug the huge bag of toys in the house, the young girl had her arm around her little brother, almost as if to protect him giving the message to all that: “We as brother and sister are in this together.”  Then her countenance rapidly changed into a most beautiful smile.  This little girl could have lit up a Christmas tree with that smile.  I immediately realized that that smile made the preparation that went into the delivery of the toys along with the actual delivery of them worth-while.  It was a smile I hope she will hold in her mind, not to forget, the memory of which may guide her through precarious times.  For me, that smile etched in my mind will remind me of what it means when I can help others in some way.

At least for now, the glow of that child’s smile perhaps transcended whatever condition she and her family faced while representatives of the police delivered toys to help kids experiences some joys during Christmas!

Inside the Tunnel

  

When I worked on the Psychiatric Emergence Admission Unit during my internship in psychology, I learned the value of teamwork.  This was a locked ward where patients were admitted on a voluntary or involuntary basis.  It was the job of staff members to sort out newly admitted patients in the triage process.  The unpredictable nature of the patients that were seen and evaluated added an element of stress to the environment.  I remember the day when I walked on the unit and unexpectedly found the body of a psych tech reeling on the floor.  Subsequently, I discovered that upon administering a medication to the patient, the latter had a paranoid break with reality suspecting that the medicine he was about to take may have been poison.  Because this characteristic of uncertainty existed in this setting, there really was little room for internal disputes among the staff members.  There was an implicit understanding among the workers on the unit that disruption caused by personality clashes or conflicts among them could be harmful to all.  This is to say that such a disruption could very well compromise the safety of all those involved in the process of helping the patients on the ward.

 As a rookie volunteering on the Senior Police Patrol, a part of the Long Beach Police Department, I had the good fortune of partnering with Linda, a seasoned veteran of the Patrol for 15 years.  Our job entails assisting the police force in tasks such as doing wellness checks on people, usually elders, that may be victims of some type of abuse.  Although our job functions do not allow us to enter into dangerous situations with residents, there is a feature of unforeseeable events that may occur.  When Linda heard on the police radio that there had been a major accident at a tunnel located on Lakewood Blvd. in Long Beach, though I was the driver, she took the reigns in directing me to where I needed to go.   

As we entered the tunnel, we discovered we were among the first responders.  Traffic already had begun to be backed up on the two outside lanes.  Without hesitation, Linda pointed for me to drive on the most inside lane that was free of traffic due to the accident.  When I drove through the passing traffic near the mouth of the tunnel, a young man sitting next to an overturned car created a jarring, almost cinematic scene. There were some fire fighters at the scene talking to him in the midst of water sprouting from a hydrant that had been cracked.  The ambiance was eerie, reminiscent of a surreal Fellini film, with the dim enclosed space amplifying the tension and chaos.

While an inundation of water began to stream into the tunnel, Linda’s quick thinking and extensive experience proved invaluable.  She promptly told me to grab the orange vests from the back of our vehicle that we both quickly donned. We then positioned ourselves where we could both aid in assisting the police and firefighters in managing the heavy traffic that had piled up due to the accident.  Together we successfully helped direct the flow of traffic and alleviate the congestion.

As the firefighters sealed the hydrant and the initial chaos began to subside, our efforts ultimately supported the Long Beach Police Force in restoring order.  Miracle of miracles had occurred insofar as the driver of the overturned car, though dazed and shaken, neither suffered a minor nor serious injury.  This experience not only deepened my respect for the dedication and skill of first responders but also reinforced the importance of teamwork and composure in challenging situations.