Know Your Place   

The recent passing of the billionaire, Charles T. Munger, the partner of Warren Buffet, inspired me to write this essay.  A week ago, I had dinner with a friend I’ve known for many years.  He told me of the time in his life when he had been close to homeless having to live from paycheck to paycheck.  As he told me how he achieved what he had, presently, a high paying job in software, it was clear that he had made certain career choices to become more financially stable.  I told him that many people struggle all their lives with the issue of whether or not they will have financial security.  Whereupon he told me of a relative he had, not lacking in intelligence in any way, that was having difficulty making ends meet.  Regarding this individual, he commented that some people, for no apparent reason, simply do not do well in their lives.

My friend’s observation caused me to ponder how some of us struggle throughout our lives.  Some can have all the accoutrements of success, such as looks and intelligence, but can’t find themselves in their journey, and they remain lost for much if not their entire lives.  I was reminded of this a few days ago when I saw some movie clips of Judy Garland in her youth.  As a child, like so many other children, I was hypnotized by her performance as Dorothy Gale, in The Wizard of Oz.  In one of these clips, I learned that she helped Gene Kelly, who appeared with her in his first movie performance, adjust his acting style to the camera.  Prior to this movie, Kelly had been a star on Broadway. Ms. Garland’s early film stardom had the unfortunate consequence of resulting in her choosing to ignore her health by abusing drugs in a lifelong effort to stay thin.  Sadly, she lost the battle and died at the early age of 47. Though her failure in life appeared so incongruous with how she had once appeared, Ms. Garland is hardly alone in suffering this type of tragic ending. 

All of us, at some point in our lives, come across people, like Judy Garland, that have this strange, but not so uncommon proclivity, to make the wrong choices for themselves repeatedly.  Despite the fact that they live in a free society that allows them the wider range of opportunities not offered in a more restricted non-democratic society, they lack the social skills necessary to fit in with others.

Here I need confess, that although I was never hurting financially, there were times that it seemed incredibly hard to see in what direction I was heading.  My sense of life was freighted with the negative.  I saw the world through my distorted lens, and I am embarrassed to say I had contempt for those within my surroundings.  It very well may have stemmed from my hypersensitive self not knowing how to handle the everyday jests made toward me and others like me.  I had this weird subtle feeling that my slightest gesture toward others would result in some kind of unknown pain. I harbored an anger and resentment making me question humanity’s worth that resulted in an inner sense of nihilism.   Fortunately, I abandoned this nihilistic view of reality as I began to sharpen my career goals and reconnect my inner self with what I needed to do to go forward.

Perhaps we all go through these phases of life, where we question ourselves, but then begin to pull things together and find a comfortable place to be.  And of course, a place to be has to do with our understanding of who we are that will serve us as a compass for the social ties that will become so important in the future.  Let me emphasize that finding our place is not a passive event that society imposes on us.  Rather it is an active set of choices that we, as individuals make, to create a sense of worth and purpose that is an ongoing process.  For some, the goal might be to stay where they are.

When I was a Psychology Trainee at a V.A. Hospital, I remember meeting a Philippine doctor whose candor toward me, a young man in my early 20’s, surprised me.  He told me his friends and relatives wanted him to do more for himself by starting his own private practice.  They were convinced he would be successful and make more money than he was presently.  He told me he rather enjoyed where he was in life helping the patients he tended to at the V.A.  I respected him, not only for his decision, but his honesty in sharing such an important part of his life with someone like me who was just beginning my professional life.   He appeared to me to have found his own niche in life that best suited him.

This brings me back to Mr. Munger.  Though many of us have heard of the great investor, Warren Buffet, my bet is that few of us would be familiar with Mr. Munger.  When he was interviewed shortly before he died, he said the following that appeared in his obituary:

“I didn’t mind at all playing second fiddle to Warren.  Ordinarily, everywhere I go I am very dominant, but when somebody else is better, I’m willing to play second fiddle.  It’s just that I was seldom in that position, except with Warren.  But I didn’t mind it at all.” 

Some may think that Mr. Munger should have acted as the outspoken brilliant leader at all times to show how he could excel, but Mr. Munger found his place where he could serve as both a leader and a supporter.  Although it may appear counterintuitive, success and happiness are not always the product of fame and fortune.

American Jew or Jewish American

In the early 1980’s, in the incipient stages of developing a private practice in psychology, Paramount Community Psychiatric Hospital (no longer exists), in the Long Beach Area, had invited me to be on staff with admitting privileges.  I was invited to a dinner for new staff members like me, whereupon, I saw a familiar face, an Egyptian psychiatrist who I had met at the hospital, who like me was just starting his private practice. He beckoned me to come join him at the table that he was sitting where one seat remained.  Upon introducing myself, the others informed me they had come from other Arab countries in the Middle East.   When they heard my name, they asked me if I was Jewish.  When I replied in the affirmative, they then proceeded to ask me how I felt about Israel.

When I voiced my support for Israel, however, adding I did not support all of its policies, the conversation at the table became dicey.  Upon hearing my response, I suddenly was assaulted from all sides about the evil Israel had cast on the entire Middle East.  As they continued non-stop, I realized that anything I said in support or in defense of Israel would have given them more ammunition to fire back in my direction.  Although I was no expert in the Middle East, I did know that a few years earlier Egypt and Israel had signed a peace accord when Jimmy Carter was in the White House.  Unfortunately, this had little bearing on the Egyptian psychiatrist, as he readily sided with his friends that appeared more like his family.   As I bid my colleagues farewell, the introduction to the hospital, along with the dinner, left a bad taste in my mouth. 

The above example stressed my identity foremost as a Jew rather than an American.  However, for the greater part of my life, I have regarded being American, as my primary identity, with my being Jewish though certainly an intrinsic part of my background.  Thus, I have viewed myself more as an American Jew than a Jewish American.  Moreover, I am quite sure most Jews in America would identify with this perspective.  Then came October 7th in which the world witnessed the murder of 1200 Israelis and kidnapping of about 240 others by Hamas’ forces.

Rather than express their contempt for the incident, several students from Harvard wrote a letter essentially backing what Hamas had done.  In effect, they were condoning the mass murder of Jews.  The initial response of other academic centers of “higher” learning was in the same vein.  Only after alumni from these universities responded with letters and the threat of withholding their gifts, did these same universities back off and condemn what Hamas had done.  Suddenly Jewish students on these college campuses felt imperiled by rife antisemitic acts such as pro-Palestinian groups tearing down posters of kidnapped Jewish children. The result of all this has been the open intimidation of Jewish students.  I do not consider this type of protest emblematic of what we Americans regard as Free Speech, a right protected by the First Amendment.

I can draw some sad ironies to all of what has occurred on October 7th and subsequently.  The first is that few of the people slain on that day were members of the Israeli military, some of whom were not even Jewish but rather Arab Israelis.  Some Jews that were killed had been working with Palestinians to achieve a better understanding among them and Jews with the ultimate goal being peace between the two peoples.

The second irony is that most of the Jewish population in American vote democratic and believe in progressive causes often voiced on college campuses.  Suddenly these same Jewish students have found themselves on the receiving end of much hostility and anger by their so-called politically aligned comrades.

The third irony is the divergent origins of the antisemitism currently being expressed today.  The political left, rampant on elite college campuses, and in much of the news and social media, accuse Israel and its followers (i.e., Jews) as the oppressors with Palestinians being the oppressed.  Here Jewish people are regarded in the same camp as white supremists.  Movements extant today, such as Jews for Color, clearly point to the diversity of the Jewish people.  Furthermore, we know Israel has helped Ethiopians, who claim a Jewish background, to migrate to Israel. Finally, it is unclear how American Jews of mixed ethnicity will be treated in this most recent spread of antisemitism.     

The last variant of antisemitism, though more illogical than ironic, comes from Elon Musk, said to be the richest man on earth, who recently endorsed a post on X (his company) espousing baseless antisemitic conspiracy theories that Jewish people are promoting “hatred against whites.”  This idea originates from the belief that the Jewish aim is to “replace whites” with minorities or people of color, a trope that white nationalists and antisemites have trumpeted for years.

In one case Jews are said to be too white, whereas in the other case they are not white enough. The rampant antisemitism expressed by both the Left and the Right is so absurd that it is almost comical.  However, one cannot laugh at the danger it may augur for those of the Jewish faith.  Let us hope that the antisemitic actions occurring here in the United States, the home of the free, do not lead to the violence wreaked on the Israelis by the Hamas on October 7th.  Here I congratulate President Biden for taking the controversial approach of standing up for Israel as both an important and enduring ally of the United States.  We, as Jews and Americans, need to hope and pray that the current chaos in the Middle East ultimately will resolve itself in a peaceful resolution between Israelis and Palestinians.

60th High School Reunion

I graduated from Thomas Jefferson High School in Elizabeth, New Jersey in 1963, 60 years ago.  A reunion after 60 years appeared surreal given how rapidly time had elapsed.  With each year, the passage of time seems to accelerate as I hear echoes from others saying there goes another year.  Back when I was attending public school from kindergarten through high school, the months would creep by until the much-awaited summer would arrive.  Out of school, once in the work world, the seasons began to merge into each other inasmuch as there no longer existed a “summer” free of the burden of school or work.

Because my wife, Lisa and I were staying in New York City, I had arranged with my oldest friend Marc Goldblatt to pick us up at the train station in Elizabeth.  He came down from Oneonta, NY and picked us up exactly as we planned at 10:30 in the morning.  Etched in my mind, never to go away, is my memory of Marc and I on the see-saw in Mrs. Gleckler’s kindergarten room.  We arrived at the reunion site, the Galloping Hill Golf Course, just as the reunion was getting underway.   

Just making it to the reunion at the age of 78 was an accomplishment.  Those that make it to reunions generally have fared well.  Those that have not done so well in their lives along with those that are no longer living don’t make it to reunions.  What is most curious about reunions is the selective memories that one carries with oneself the many years since having graduated.

There was Marty Gale who had recently had a leg amputated, but to his credit attended the reunion and aside from loss of leg looked quite well.  What stuck out in mind was when he, Gary Rose and I were in the 5th grade, we all decided to play miniature golf.  He, too, recalled the time. Of course, there were no cell phones back in those days so without verifying whether there was a miniature golf course at Galloping Hill Road, we headed there as it was closest from our starting point.  To our disappointment, we discovered that there was a golf course and a shorter course to practice chipping and putting, but no miniature golf course.  But the three of us were both headstrong and determined to play miniature golf, so we decided to go to Bowcraft, an amusement park that we knew had miniature golf.  We did not even consider the distance, over 10 miles to get there with the most direct way on the heavily travelled Route 22.  The trip, to us, given our age seemed endless, and we all spontaneously realized that we were probably not supposed to be bike riding where we were.  But we persisted and finally arrived and enjoyed playing.  The trip back seemed faster than going but that may have been due to the fact that we now knew how long it would take along with knowing where we were heading.  Such was the shared memory we had over 60 years ago.

At my luncheon table were David Monfried, Stuart Levy and Richard Verbel with their respective spouses.  I had seen David at a previous reunion but had not seen Richard or Stuart since I was 18.  As I told his wife, Richard had been a jokester but had been appreciated by all.  She saw him differently as a pretty serious and very reliant father and spouse.  The responsibilities concomitant with growing up are part what make us who we are.

I reminded my classmates of the times we spent at the Young Men’s Hebrew Association (Y.M.H.A.)  participating in activities such as basketball and swimming.  Happy Pezia (spelling?) was in charge of all the recreational activities and very much lived up to his name.  I can still remember him saying: “Buzzy (my name those days) what’s it going to be today.” Happy, stout and barrel chested, an ex-marine who had lost a finger in WWII, was one of the nicest guys I ever knew.  He made my visits to the “Y” that much more enjoyable.

Then there was Anne Fischler who I had known since elementary school.  Marc and I reminded her that whenever we celebrated Field Day at Warinanco Park toward the end of the year, she would always win the 50-yard dash and receive the blue ribbon.  She smiled and said that she had aspired to be a gym teacher but an early marriage and children had changed that.  However, she told me she had very much liked being a social worker who specialized in working with children of Holocaust survivors.

There was Patty Holzer who I remember for her wonderful smile and most outgoing personality.  She was one of those people that everyone liked.  It was part of her charm.  Sixty years later she still had those same qualities.   Barbara Greenberg, coming all the way from England, and Betsy Dunston both looked great and immediately recognizable.  Barbara and I both recalled our grandmothers who were best friends during our childhood. 

Then there was Andy Gross and Gary Knapp together with their respective wives.  Andy, well-built in high school, had maintained his physique after having played with the New York Giants, my favorite football team.  I reminded him of our wrestling days in high school:  Before each match he would say: “I have the Hershey squirts.”  As big as he was, like the rest of us, he had those memorable moments of anxiety before each match.  When I asked him what it was like playing football with the New York Giants, he recalled butting heads with the infamous Dick Butkus of the Chicago Bears.  During Andy’s first play from scrimmage Dick noticed Andy’s jersey was clean white and commented: “Are you ready freshman?” Opposing Dick Butkus would have given anybody the Hershey squirts.

It was great seeing John Brinkley, with whom I competed on the wrestling team at Jefferson along with having traveled to Stratford, Connecticut a few times to see some plays by Shakespeare.  He told me he had joined the peace corps and had served in Ethiopia.  I shared with him that I had gone domestic and joined VISTA (Volunteers in Service to America).  Louis Bedrock, who I had heard had been an outstanding teacher, told me he had never realized how difficult it was to teach young children in the Bronx.  How modest he was.  Jonathan Kozol, an American writer best known for his books on public education in the United States, published an article years ago after observing Louis in his classroom.  He pointed out that “Mr. Bedrock is a sensitive and empathetic teacher.  The children in his 4th grade class confide in him and grow emotionally close to him.”  Lou, if Kozol said this about your teaching skills, I’m sure you were more than a good teacher.

As time had so quickly passed in our lives, the afternoon suddenly was over and I found myself exhausted from the day as my wife and I had started the day early in the morning.  Because he was going in our direction, my dear friend, George Stavis, who I have known from elementary school, generously offered Debbie Takiff a ride to her daughter’s apartment in Jersey City, and Lisa and I a ride back to NYC. Debbie told me her youngest brother, Michael, was still living in the one-bedroom apartment I had rented in Manhattan from 1974 till 1978. When I moved to California, I let my younger brother, Dan, live there until the lease expired and, afterwards, his friend Michael moved in and has been there since 1980.  Michael got married and he and his wife raised a child in this same apartment with a dog to boot.  When I commented to Debbie how tight that must have been for all, she replied that New Yorkers have a different perspective when it comes to space.  I like New York, but I also like my space.

My wife and I completed the trip with George who I have seen from time to time in the past 60 years.  We both recalled the time when, unexpected, we paid a visit to our 8th grade teacher, Ms. O’Flaherty.  I still remember her bright blue eyes beaming down on us like lasers if anyone of us was out of order.  Aside from the discipline, she was a great teacher.  George updated me on his brothers as I updated him on my brothers.  All of our brothers were the same age as each other so we Natelson’s knew the Stavis family well.

One of my classmates asked me why I had come so far from California to attend the reunion.  I told him I had fond memories of my youth and this would probably be the last time I would see classmates I hadn’t seen in years.  Finally, kudos are in order to Dennis Curren, Cheryl Curren, Fred Boff and Marilyn Weiner for contacting all of us and finding  an excellent place to have the reunion.

Coco Gauff Wins the U.S. Open

I am quite sure those of us who are tennis fans very much appreciated the women’s finals this year at the U.S. Open featuring Coco Gauff against Aryna Sabelenka.  The U.S. Open is the final tournament of the four tennis events that make-up the Grand Slam.  Matthew Futterman, the reporter of the New York Times who covers tennis, recently wrote the U.S. Open, unlike the other tournament locales, is much “more welcoming with limited emphasis on staid decorum.”   For example, the stuffiness inherent at the Wimbledon in England, where tennis has been thought of as an elitist sport, is simply not present at the Arthur Ashe Stadium where the U. S. Open is played.  Arthur Ashe, who died prematurely of a faulty blood transfusion, was the first Afro-American to win the singles titles at Wimbledon, the U.S. Open and the Australian Open.  Another accolade held by the U.S. Open is that it was the first of the big tournaments to offer equal pay for both men and women.

In the past, I personally have enjoyed watching women’s tennis more than men’s tennis because the women’s baseline rallies are, generally, longer and more interesting than the men, where in the latter, points are often scored more quickly.   As I watched the U.S. Open finals broadcast from New York, I observed an integrated spectator audience watching the 19-year-old Afro-American, Coco, play Aryna who is from Minsk, Belarus. Any racial issues in America, so often seen in the news these days, appeared non-existent as blacks and whites, many seated together, cheered for Coco, the home favorite.  But much to the chagrin of the fans, Coco did not appear to be on her game in the first set as she quickly lost a game when she was serving (called a service break).  On the other hand, her opponent, Aryna, deftly was making all the shots necessary to take control and the lead in the first set.

Tennis, like other sports, has a psychological component.  If an athlete let’s his/her poor performance get the best of him/her, a tennis match can rapidly come to an end.  Coco lost the first set 6 to 2.  In women’s tennis, the match is the best of three sets so if Coco were to lose either of the next two sets, she would have lost the match.  A player with less skill and confidence than Coco may have lost in straight sets but her grit and determination became apparent in the second and third sets.  As one of the sport’s commentators pointed, Coco had gone from playing her “B” game in the first set to her “A” game in the second and third sets.  It was exciting to see.

In the second set, Coco promptly broke Aryna’s serve and played flawlessly making almost no unforced errors.  The latter are misplays made of shots that ordinarily could be made.  Because Coco was covering the baseline anticipating shots and making great returns, it appeared that her rival was becoming flustered, and Aryna was beginning to miss shots that she had earlier made with ease.  As Aryna’s unforced errors continued throughout the second set, the look of the match was changing with Coco, steady as ever, taking the lead and winning the second set, 6 to 3.  Now Coco had the momentum in the match, having summoned the strength in her play, whereas Aryna continued to make unforced errors.  The games in the third set became lopsided in Coco’s favor with the result being an easy win for Coco:  6 to 2 and the match.

Coco’s triumph at the U.S. Open reminded me of a match I observed when I was on the tennis team at my high school in my sophomore year.  Andy Kimmel, a senior, was our top player so he played first singles.  Because his opponent that day had been known to be high ranking in the county, we wondered if Andy had any chance at all to beat this guy.  As the match began, Andy’s rival made some good smashes for points but then missed a few easy shots.  Andy was a good but not a great tennis player, who, nevertheless, had a sense of tennis wisdom, and he must have spotted a weakness in his rival’s play.  Whereas his opponent would return anything hit hard, he appeared to miss the softer lob shots.  He would smash them into the net in utter frustration. His fits of anger resulted in his throwing his tennis racquet on the ground and cursing at who knows what.  Smiling, rather than serving overhand, Andy began to serve underhand, patty balling the ball over the net.  Each time Andy did this, his opponent would hit the ball as hard as he could with little control resulting in the ball going out of bounds or into the net.  Andy won the match in straight sets.  He had found a way to cause his rival to make several unforced errors and to never regain his ability to play at his expected level.

Coco won because she did not lose a grip on herself after her defeat in the first set.  Unlike Aryna, she made few unforced errors.  Andy used his wits to win.   The goal for athletes is to perform at their peak and experience what is called an ultimate flow.  Flow, according to the Hungarian-American psychologist, Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, the inventor of the concept, is “a state in which people are so involved in an activity that nothing else seems to matter.” This highly focused mental state is conducive to productivity and, for athletes, high performance. To arrive at this stage, athletes’ psychological composure and confidence are as important as their physical conditioning and well-being.  Athletes, such as Coco and Andy, possess that savoir faire that allows them to stay focused on their play and navigate their way to victory.

The Therapeutic Culture

In one of my earlier blogs, I praised David Brooks, a columnist for the New York Times, for the original stances he takes regarding the human condition.  However, in a recent article he published in the Times, Hey, America, Grow Up, he derides what he calls the “therapeutic culture.” He points out how this culture, gave rise to a coddling approach to handling stressors, in citing the work done by Greg Lukianoff and Jonathan Haidt, the authors of The Coddling of the American Mind. 

I agree with Brooks’ description of “safety spaces,” where students can go when they feel they are in a hostile environment, as an overreaction.  This has to do with the coddling that Lukianoff and Haidt allude to in their book.  But hasn’t the helicopter parent also served in reinforcing the daintiness of the young?  There are cultural forces behind these movements but they are hardly the result of what I, as a psychologist, and my fellow professionals are teaching our clients.  On the contrary, with both my female and male clients, very often my goal is to help them become more assertive, not more timid.

I agree full heartedly when Brooks writes about how contemporary culture reinforces a sense of victimization in which people do not feel empowered but rather helpless within a hostile environment.  Nevertheless, there are still people that have been traumatized and indeed are victims of either emotional or physical abuse.  Once more, the goal of therapy is not to assist these people in thriving in whatever trauma they suffer, but rather to help them overcome the past by confronting the trauma through exposure.   The mechanism in helping a client recover from trauma has little to do with coddling.  Moreover, the goal of the treatment is to have the client look at him/herself as a survivor and not a victim.

The therapeutic culture did not create the pandemic, the source of much alienation and psychic pain in us all, especially, our youth.  One of the repercussions of the pandemic was to magnify the deleterious impact of social media on adolescents that, like the rest of us, had to stay isolated from our peers.   Comparing oneself to “ideal” others posted on social media was particularly harmful to female adolescents whose time was spent on Instagram or TikTok.  On these sites, they gazed upon doctored “perfect pictures” that made them feel less desirable to themselves and others.

As I write this, I see more clearly that my main beef with Brooks is that he is attaching the word therapeutic to cultural trends that are in fact not therapeutic at all.  The increased use of social media, the pandemic, and overprotecting our youth actually run counter to what I would consider therapeutic.  I believe these three occurrences within our society weakened have impeded the development and increased the level of depression and anxiety among both young and old.  I and other practitioners are frequently called upon to enhance the self-worth of our clients so they can more bravely face the everyday vagaries and hazards that befall them.

It is unfortunate that Brooks has conflated “therapeutic” with issues related to coddling, victimization and the creation of safe spaces.  Ironically, after being coddled and overprotected, clients need my profession to aid them in regaining their self-confidence and learning skills, such as assertive behavior, in effectively countervailing these cultural trends.

Tribalism

    

In an earlier blog, The Power of Clan, I discussed the virtues of social cohesion and solid relationships on the longevity of life in a small Italian community in the 50’s, before its members assimilated into the larger culture.  This was pretty much a closed society where membership to the clan came from one’s birthright.  In this context, outsiders from surrounding towns were not considered part of the clan or tribe.

David French, columnist for the New York Times, recently published an article titled:  The Rage and Joy of MAGA America.”  In his essay, he described the MAGA (Make America Great Again) characteristics of many of the people in Nashville, Tennessee where he resides.  He believed the following statement by freshman Republican Andy Ogles from Tennessee captured the essence of MAGA:

          Hey guys, Congressman Andy Ogles here,

          wishing you a happy blessed Fourth of July.

          Hey, remember our founding fathers.  It’s we

          the people that are in charge of this country, not

          a leftist minority.  Look, the left is trying to

          destroy our country and our family, and they’re

          coming after you.  Have a blessed Fourth of July.

          Be safe, Have fun. God bless America.

Unlike the Italian community I alluded to in the Power of Clan, the above message to the MAGA tribe is one of negativity casting aspersions on what Ogles calls the “leftist minority.”  Moreover, the above message reflects a combination of intense anger and real joy with a strong sense of belonging.

I liken the passion of the MAGA movement to a form of religious zeal where its strong faith places Donald Trump on a pedestal above the rest of us.  But similarly, I regret to say, followers of the leftist Woke movement also have an emotional base where, once more, reason is lacking.  These adherents have created their own language where race dominates their view of all activity in America.  They have propagated what they call an antiracial bias in which the idea of color blindness no longer exists. John McWhorter, a black associate professor of linguistics at Columbia University, described this very same phenomenon in his book, Woke Racism. The subtitle of the book is:  How a New Religion Has Betrayed Black America.  I point out that Professor McWhorter is black to underscore the fact that the very emotionally triggered issue of race is more complicated than both the extremists on the left and the right would maintain.

In a recent YouTube presentation, The Legacy of Black Lives Matter, Afro-American commentators, Coleman Hughes and Thomas Chatterton Williams, point out that blacks are presumed to be one sided not allowing them to have conservative beliefs.  Coleman Hughes questions this type of monolithic thinking among blacks.  McWhorter, Hughes and Chatterton illustrate the fact that Afro-Americans do not necessarily see eye to eye on racial matters.  McWhorter, for one, believes that socio-economic status, and not race, is the source of much of the anguish in America.

Unfortunately, social media has exacerbated these divisions by appealing to the instincts of the tribal right and left.  Because hate mongers receive the most hits on social media platforms, moderate and reasonable discussion among the right and left is scarce.

 John Wood Jr., Ambassador of the Braver Angels, has begun to tackle the issue of tribalism, noted in this essay. He has addressed the political polarities manifested by both the right and left. His approach has been to develop a community where people can comfortably disagree with one another on political issues rather than agree on them.  Instead of one facing the fear engendered by social media regarding disagreement, voicing one’s true opinion is the standard espoused by Braver Angels.

In referring to the founding fathers’ different opinions expressed in the creation of our Constitution, Mr. Wood reminds us that dissension is not new to America.  Perhaps if we learn how to disagree with each other in a humane way, we will begin to understand the obverse viewpoints of others.  The allowance of other’s perspectives may pave the way to healing the grievances and wounds inherent in the polarities that currently afflict us. One of the goals of Braver Angels is to help dissenting parties develop the skills necessary to depolarize the way they think.

Mr. French concluded his article, by warning those that think like him, that replacing MAGA people’s beliefs requires understanding where their feelings of joy and rage, along with their sense of belonging, originate.  The focus of Braver Angels is to teach us to listen to and understand the other side before we can rightfully disagree.  It is my hope that this grassroots movement reaches our broken communities where people regard the other side as enemies rather than fellow Americans.

YOLA

                                                                                               

Amidst all the chaos that social media inundates us with along with fake news, allow me to turn to a cultural phenomenon we all can view in a positive light.  Lisa and I currently are on our yearly vacation at Port Ludlow on the Olympic Peninsula in Washington State.  We have come here each year to visit a classmate of mine, Robert Komishane, and friends we have come to know through our connection with him.  We make a point of coming during the Port Townsend Jazz Festival when John Clayton, jazz musician and composer, sponsors this yearly event.  Throughout the week, a gathering of known musicians along with students convene and perform jazz compositions.

Being here very much reminded me of the Youth Orchestra of Los Angeles (YOLA) that both Lisa and I have supported the past 5 years.  YOLA is the creation of Gustavo Dudamel, the conductor of the LA Philharmonic, who recently accepted an offer to conduct the New York Philharmonic beginning in 2026.  Because he was inspired by his own experience as a young person with Venezuela’s El Sistema youth orchestra movement, Dudamel initiated YOLA in 2007. The program was first established at EXPO Center in the mainly Latino and African American community of South-Central Los Angeles, and has been so successful that it has spread to five sites in the LA area.  Each site is designed to serve the specific needs of its community.

Lisa and I recently attended a concert by the performers of YOLA that we very much enjoyed.  In the first half of the program, Mr. Dudamel sat toward the back of the violin section of the orchestra and played with the group. After the intermission, he conducted the final pieces the orchestra played.  Seeing young people coming from poor communities play classical pieces with such ardor and enthusiasm demonstrated the transformative nature of music.  Well played music has a way of bringing us altogether, where we can suspend whatever differences we may have with others and simply sit back and enjoy what we hear.  Thank you, Mr. Dudamel for giving our youth the opportunity to experience and participate in this cultural event.

The Art of the Comeback

I always have had difficulty with a deft comeback comment when someone may teasingly or not so teasingly slight me.  It takes an extremely fast mind to react to an insult and score points in a verbal joust.  Winston Churchill had that rare ability.  In an exchange between him and Lady Astor:  She said, “If you were my husband, I’d give you poison,” and he replied, “If you were my wife, I’d drink it.”  Comedians are highly skilled at quick riposte.  An example of this occurred during the Oscars when the actor, Will Smith, fell prey to the comedian, Chris Rock.  Rather than engage with Mr. Rock verbally, Smith lost his cool and got physical with Rock resulting in him hurting his reputation, in addition to losing the privilege to attend future events sponsored by the Academy of Motion Pictures.  Quite a price to pay, especially, after he received an Oscar for Best Actor in the film King Richard.

In an earlier blog, I related that Arthur Kovacs, both a therapist and mentor of mine, once told me that my fault was not one of commission but rather one of omission.  In situations where I may have found myself in need of defending myself, not wanting to risk ruffling someone else’s feathers, I would say nothing.  Sometimes the simplest response of not responding at all can reinforce rather than end an ugly confrontation with another person.

During my first week of my Psychology Internship in Orange County, California, I met Tom, also an intern with whom I shared an office.  We introduced each other, and soon, we appeared to have established a friendly working relationship.  I told him I was finishing up at Rutgers University; he said he was at Fuller Theological Seminary where he was completing his doctoral work.  Additionally, he spent some of his time performing the duties as a Lutheran minister.  When he asked, I told him I was of the Jewish faith which he appeared to accept without further question.  At the end of the first, we had talked about some of the struggles we each faced as graduate students in psychology.  This helped us establish a mutual understanding that strengthened our bond. I believed we had enough in common to not only be co-interns but also to become good friends.    

After a few days of orientation in which we both learned about our job functions, we began to meet other staff members of the clinic.  I experienced nothing less than shock when Tom introduced me to the group by saying: “This is Bern, the Jew from Rutgers.”  As I was left speechless, people looked at me, somewhat uncomfortably, not knowing what to say.  His comment felt as if I had been stabbed in the back by a dear friend.  Until the moment he uttered that ugly phrase, The Jew from Rutgers, I very much had resonated with Tom.  I had thought we were heading toward a close relationship having shared some mutual experiences vis-a-vis the hurdles we had overcome to be where we presently were. 

Rather than react, I ignored what Tom had said with the naïve hope his comment merely had been an aberration, and not the Tom I had befriended during those first few days at the clinic. I quickly learned that this was not to be the case inasmuch as soon after, once more, he presented me as “The Jew from Rutgers.” Again, the staff members looked at me uneasily not knowing how to react.  On this second occasion, I took Tom aside and told him I did not appreciate him labeling me in the manner he had done.  His reply was “isn’t that who you are? Are you ashamed of who you are?”  When I told him I was not ashamed of my identity, he countered by telling me then I shouldn’t mind being identified by who I was.

On another occasion, when Tom ignored my objections, I shot back: “Here’s Tom the WASP from Fuller.”  When I said this, I observed that those workers we met showed little, if any reaction.  Moreover, the remark that I had made did not put an end to Tom’s blatant disregard of me evidenced by the manner in which he continually addressed me to staff.

Totally frustrated and extremely annoyed, I spoke to my older brother, Benj, who had a reputation for leading with his jaw.  He told me not to refer to Tom as the WASP from Fuller but rather as the Kraut from Fuller.  After some thought, I realized that calling Tom the WASP from Fuller, in the setting we were in, was similar to Tom calling me the Jew from Rutgers if our internship had been at Hebrew University.  That is to say that many of the staff members would pretty much fit into the category of WASP just as the personnel at Hebrew University would be predominantly Jewish.

I now felt armed.  Recognizing that my brother had hit on a more direct and individualized confronatation, the next time Tom and I met a new group of employees at the clinic, not giving Tom a chance to speak, I chanted loudly: “Here’s Tom, the Kraut from Fuller.”   Upon hearing this, the staff members started laughing.  Because I had no idea how they would react to my statement, their response came as a great relief to me. Tom’s face reddened revealing his embarrassment and, he remained silent.  Never again did he address me as the “Jew from Rutgers.”

I learned that ignoring obnoxious behavior may not resolve awkward unpleasant circumstances in which you find yourself the target.  Furthermore, polite assertions such as my telling Tom to stop labeling me the way he was, also may not be effective. I knew that Tom’s use of the word Jew, when referring to me, was not meant as a compliment.  Some situations, similar to the one I was in with Tom, require a counter punch harder than that thrown by one’s opponent.  I accomplished this by labeling Tom a Kraut, a derogatory term for a person of German ancestry.   That our co-workers found my assertion about Tom amusing added to the impact it had on Tom and, my pleasure at seeing him squirm.

The Power of Clan

      

In the early 80’s, when I was in the process of developing my private practice, I was asked to do a series of workshops, centering on causal factors of stress, at a neighboring hospital open to the public.  My brother, Benj, suggested I read a study by Stewart Wolf who had done a longitudinal study on an Italian American community in Roseto, Pennsylvania.  The study done over a period of 25 years that dated back from 1954 became the thesis of the book, The Power of Clan, that he co-authored with John Bruhn.  

Wolf, whose specialty was psychosomatic medicine, became interested in the people from Roseto when a physician practicing there told him in 1961 that he rarely saw patients with heart attacks under the age of 50 years.  Insofar as the inhabitants of neighboring communities had a much earlier onset of myocardial infarction that could be traced back to 1954, Wolf made an effort to tease out what the effect was that preserved the residents of Roseto.  What he discovered, to his surprise, was that the common risk factors for heart attacks, such as smoking, lack of exercise, high fat and cholesterol diet were as prevalent in Roseto as they were in four nearby control towns.

Because the dietary habits of the Roseto denizens were no different than those of nearby communities, Wolf began to suspect that there might be something specific about the lifestyle of the town’s residents.  He maintained that family bonds of a patriarchal nature and shared social values, in a community where there was almost no crime to speak of, had a protective effect on Roseto’s residents. He labeled this the “Roseto effect, that is, the phenomenon by which a close-knit community experiences a reduced rate of heart disease.”

Subsequently, Wolf predicted that if and when these bonds were lost, the death rate due to heart attacks would not differ from Roseto’s more neighboring communities. In his follow-up investigation conducted in 1975, he found that the next generation had abandoned the values of the closely knit family values to assimilate into the more individual and materialistic principles more characteristic of America.  Low and behold, upon leaving the subculture and taking on the values of the predominate culture, the death rate from heart attacks climbed to those seen in neighboring towns.

It is important to keep in mind, that the Roseto study was a correlational study where there was no experimental manipulation of any variable but rather naturalistic observations of a community taken over a period of 25 years.  Thus, epidemiologists were critical of a study in which Roseto’s small population of 1600 was sufficiently large where  time-phase studies could be conducted.  However, the Journal of the American Medical Association, did publish Wolf’s work.

When I presented the above study as part of a workshop I did on stress, a woman of Italian background, did not appear happy.  Her comment to me was “but who would want to live that kind of life.”  I pointed out to the participants that I was not advocating this as a life style but rather illustrating the effect this way of living had appeared to result in a longer life.  But the woman’s comment that questioned the worth of such values inherent in the Roseto community, did make an impression on me.  How important is one’s life-span in determining how an individual wishes to live her/his life.  A colleague and friend of mine, Charles Sooter, described this dilemma most succinctly when he said: “Can we be close but not closed.”  Those of us who live in contemporary American society are not likely to adhere to the rigid patriarchal nature of the Roseto community first studied by Wolf in 1961.   

Women, in general, we know outlive men by 4 to 5 years.  Aside from the biological differences between the two sexes, I always have thought that women are much better socializers and, in general, less isolated than men.  Could this social quality of women contribute to their longevity? After all, it was Aristotle who said: “Man is a social animal.”   

I do not think social media with its algorithms that reinforce extremist comments is a suitable replacement for healthy trusting relationships. Rather, the ease and availability of online video games etc. have tended to isolate us from one another.  Perhaps the key is to create communities where there is a basic underlying foundation of trust and cohesion among its occupants that allows them the ability to satisfy their own individual desires.   Certainly, the creation of activities and interests where groups of people meet with one another and share a mutual bond is a start to counteracting the isolative nature of social media.  This could start in the home where children would be encouraged to participate in group activities such as baseball or soccer. Moreover, PTA events, contingent on fundraising, could foster a sense of community with those families involved.   

Ultimately, the question is what in the future will bring community together.  For example, will there be a revival of religious institutions such as the church, synagogue or mosque?  On this question of vital importance, I welcome my readers to write on how they envision the future.

Two Tales of Woe

As a practicing psychologist, I have interviewed and evaluated a diverse population of clients.  Of the many people I have seen, two cases stand out in my mind that I will discuss in this blog.

After I had obtained my license as a psychologist, I spent one day a week going to East Los Angeles Regional Center, where I evaluated individuals that had intellectual disabilities or intellectual developmental disorders. Formerly, those individuals that fell under this rubric were classified from a range of Mild to Severe Mental Retardation.  I like that the term retardation is no longer used as it had an obvious pejorative meaning to those who suffered from this disability.

Prior to testing the assigned cases I would have at Regional Center, I would do a mental status, and then interview the clients that needed to be evaluated.  One such client I interviewed was a female, about 25 years old, whose condition fell within the Mild range of disability.  Upon discussing her early childhood, she told me something I have never forgotten. It pretty much went like this:  When I was 5, I stuck my hand into an electric socket, and never was the same.  When I heard this, it left me speechless. The automatic therapeutic response:  How do you feel about this, I knew would have been ridiculous.  I do not recall exactly what I said but it might have been something to the effect that you have managed well despite what had happened.  Because of her very young age, I explained to her that she was not to blame nor to be held responsible for this accident.  However, I understood instantaneously the sorrow and pain this young woman had suffered.  It was her clear memory of this unfortunate event in her life, in conjunction with the realization that nothing could be done to reverse its consequences that, without a doubt, added to her hardship.

The second case involved a divorced Latina woman in her 40’s from Mexico.  I saw her in the ’90’s during the Welfare to Work program that President Clinton had initiated.  Upon interviewing her, she told me a very sad event that had occurred when she was 18 years old.  During that time, she was engaged to her future husband.  She revealed that her relationship with her future in-laws had been always a good one.  She described her husband’s parents as both kind and generous. 

The client’s father-in-law owned a small cottage home about 80 miles from Mexico City in the countryside.  He loved plants and had gone to oversee how his garden was doing at the end of the week.  Upon reaching his home, he was greeted by Mexico’s law enforcement who accused him of planting marijuana that was illegal.  When he tried to convince them of his innocence, they refused to believe him.  The result was that these policemen severely beat him leaving him badly injured, away from his wife and family.  When he returned to his wife, she became frantic and terrified, justly so, insofar as her beloved husband succumbed six weeks later.  This poor man died of internal hemorrhaging related to the punishment he had absorbed at the hands of the policeman.

From the day of the death of her husband’s father, her soon to be mother-in-law became so embittered that her attitude toward others had undergone a radical change.  She now became an angry short-tempered woman that treated everyone she knew, with the exception of her son, in a curt mean manner.   When I heard this story, I thought how an evil act can spread, like a contagious disease, and permeate not only the one suffering the loss, but also those around that person.

But did it have to be that way?  As I constantly tell those of my clients who are angered at how they have been treated, the world does not always treat us fairly.  In my blog, A Negative Universe, I spoke of gratitude as an uplifting quality so essential to our sense of wellness as vulnerable human beings.  My roommate from college and very close friend, Jack Trachtenberg, commented on my last blog, Postscript, that underscores this point:

I am reminded of a radio interview I heard some years ago done by Philadelphia area psychologist, Dan Gottlieb. Gottlieb is almost quadriplegic from an auto accident in the 1970s. His interview was with concentration camp survivor, Gerda Weissman Klein. He asked her, given all the losses in her life, whether she ever got angry. She replied, “Of course I do. I am human. — But let me tell you what I do when I feel like that. I go to the refrigerator. I open the door. I see that I have food to eat. — And I am grateful.”

We humans have the capacity to be resilient.  It is a great gift that has helped us survive all these years on planet earth.  I would maintain that an integral part of our resilience is the ability to have gratitude even in the most difficult and tragic circumstances of our lives.  Thank you, Ms. Klein, for both recognizing and sharing this virtue with us.