On Cultural Variants

Because I taught in Bangkok years ago, I am familiar with some Thai customs and mores.  Despite the fact that apparent chaos has permeated the news here in America and abroad, a recent trip to Thailand reminded me how cultural norms still purvey the order and decency many of us today find lacking.  What follows are some of my favorite examples from my travels to Thailand.

There are two mass transits systems in Bangkok:  1) A Sky-Train that runs above ground level and a 2) Metro that runs underground like many of our subways here in America.  These two transportation modes are a boon to the Thai population as they are faster and less expensive than taxis that have to deal with the terrible traffic endemic to Bangkok. 

Upon entering the platform of either the Metro or the Sky-Train, there are arrows pointing toward doors to enter and arrows pointing toward exiting.  These arrows are at every door and people, in a most orderly fashion, line-up behind the arrows in a straight line.  The only people that might deviate from this simple procedure would be foreigners.  In fact, there was a white male who had a walking cane appearing both somewhat impaired and confused standing in the middle of the rows marked by the arrows.  When the Sky-Train or Metro cars arrive, everyone patiently waits until all have gotten off at the stop before anyone boards the train.  This observance of orderliness simply does not exist in the subway system in New York City, perhaps the city, with regard to population density and activities, that can best be compared to Bangkok.

However, the civility and propriety that Thai exhibit in the mass transit system becomes a state of bedlam when it comes to vehicular traffic patterns.  To start, tourists and guests need recognize that Thais have adopted the English custom of driving on the left rather than the right side of the road.  Then there are the motorcycles weaving and bobbing in all directions.  Although most busy streets have traffic lights, some do not and, you as pedestrians, do not necessarily have the right of way.  In some ways this is also true of New York City, where visitors to the city need to look at cars coming rather than traffic lights as cars do not always stop when a light turns red.  But New Yorkers do not face the many motorcyclists so ubiquitous in Bangkok traffic.  Other cities in the United States, may treat the pedestrian with much greater respect than that found in New York.  In San Francisco, for example, the pedestrian has the right of way at all crosswalks and it behooves automobile drivers to follow this rule.

On a trip to Thailand with my college roommate, Jack, he discovered that motorcyclists parked at the sides of streets, who were wearing orange vests, were available for hire to take riders wherever they wanted to go.  When we decided to separate and see different sights, upon returning he told me he had been driven to his destination by one of these motorcycle operators.  There is a curious contrast in the behavior of these drivers, I believe typical of the Thai culture.  When inquiring about a ride and showing one of them where you wish to be taken, that driver will point to the driver whose turn it is.  Thus, rather than hawking your business they cooperate with each other in a very organized manner.  However, once you are on the back of the motorcycle, as I indicated in the above, all order disappears.

Thai motorcyclists are excellent operators and, are probably the fastest transport for short distances, especially, if the two mass transit systems are not nearby.  Although they all wear helmets, they do not provide them to their riders.  I have regularly seen young Thai females, perhaps students, mount them and ride them with little fear.  The first time I was on one reminded me of my first ride on a roller coaster.  These motorbikers move intrepidly from lane to lane in bumper car traffic managing to find the fastest route to their goal.  It can be scary at times and, I’m sure accidents have occurred.  If an accident did happen, it would be the fault of a car that did not see the biker.  And as I indicated in the above, for short distances a motorcycle ride is a very good alternative as walking long distances in both the heat and traffic can be aversive.

One of my more humorous experiences occurred when I was going to meet some Thai friends in Chiang Mai, a city in Northern Thailand.  Somehow the taxi took me to the wrong address.  There was a woman on a motorbike, who looked to be in her 70’s, that wanted to help but as she could not speak English and my ability to communicate in Thai was extremely limited, I called my friend who told the woman, in Thai, where I needed to go.   As the woman offered me a ride, I mounted her motorbike and, she drove me to the spot where my friend met me.   What surprised me was how agility in handling her bike at her age. I would not trust myself to operate a motorcycle in city traffic, or for that matter in any kind of traffic, at her age.  As it turned out, my destination was only about one mile away and, when I offered to repay her for her generosity, she refused to accept any money.

Years ago, during a trip to Thailand with my younger brother, Andrew, upon returning to our hotel at night, we walked down a dark alley that led to the hotel.  When he asked me if we were in danger of being robbed or mugged, I told him no.  On the contrary, I would not recommend tourists coming to America, who are staying in urban areas, to walk down blind alleys.   The risk is far greater being robbed in America as a tourist than in Thailand.  But then again, if you are a tourist, you need be careful about taxis.  I have been told by natives of Bangkok that before getting into a taxi make sure you ask the driver to put the meter on (word in Thai is “meter,” as in English, but pronounced differently).

As my recent trip was coming to an end, I decided to visit the Saxophone Pub, a place that I had been to with my wife, Lisa, and friends several times in the past.  The concierge assured me there would be a saxophone playing some jazz tunes.  When I arrived, though it was a Tuesday evening, the place was jam packed.  Having come alone, I was seated right behind the front half circle that surrounds the players, the best seats in the house.

During the performance I noticed a young Thai couple sitting in front of me.  It was clear from their body language that they were quite in love with one another.  Cheerfully, they were drinking and toasting each other.  When some young women sitting next to them left, I quickly moved up to the semi-circle, next to the couple, allowing me to have a much better view of the jazz quartet.  I lifted my beer to both of them and said in Thai the word for “Cheers.”  They smiled at me and I smiled back.  Suddenly, another glass of beer was placed in front of me by the waiter and, with a look of bewilderment, I wondered if the drink had been delivered to the wrong party. The waiter pointed to the couple indicating that the male had bought it for me.

I thanked them both for the gesture in my limited ability to speak Thai.  When I told them that I had taught psychology at ABAC in Bangkok, the girlfriend told me that she had graduated from there a few years back.  Because the school is international and English is the language in which the classes are taught, I knew she could speak English enabling me to begin a conversation with her.   She told me her name was Ploy and her boyfriend’s name was Chi.  Although his family was Chinese, he was raised in Thailand so he spoke both Mandarin and Thai.  Ploy was fluent in English and Thai.  At first, she apologized telling me that her English was only so and so, but it was clear to me that this was not the case insofar as she made no grammatical errors in the conversation.  She told me that she had started studying English when she was 8 years old.

Because many Asian languages do not have different tenses to describe changes in time as English does, grammar is difficult for Asians to master when they learn English.  However, on the contrary, Thai and other Asian languages, though lacking the complexity of grammar, are still extremely difficult to learn because they are tonal. Once when I was in a Thai restaurant in Bangkok, I ordered a bowl of rice but was brought a glass by the waiter.  To the Western ear, the Thai word for glass and rice sound almost the same.

Couples that are in love fill the air with a sparkle and enthusiasm that one can relate to if one has experienced that sparkle.  Their sparkle that evening was enchanting.  I certainly had that excitement when I first met my wife, Lisa, only hoping that she felt the same about me.  And I had the good fortune that she did!  That sensation of love is what movie goers experience in a Hollywood ending when boy meets girl, conflict arises between the two, but somehow, they overcome the conflict to live happily ever after. I learned that they had known each other for 9 years but only started dating two months ago.  I told them it was obvious to me that they were very much in love with one another and that pleased the boyfriend so much that he offered me a glass of the third bottle of wine he had purchased.

When Ploy told me they were both drunk I cautioned Chi not to drive and, they wisely chose to stay at a hotel that evening. We exchanged information through Line, a connection many Asians have that is similar to Skype.  When Ploy let me know she and Chi were planning to get married in December, I kiddingly told her my wife and I would make it our best effort to come to their wedding.  We parted company smiling with big grins on our faces when Ploy told me they just might invite us to their wedding.  Now that’s quite a great ending to my trip, isn’t it?

 Rudolf the Red-Nosed

Sadly, 2023 did not end on a positive note as the world currently witnesses two wars:  1) The Mideast and 2) Russia-Ukraine.  Let me turn to a cheerier note about a favorite song of mine in my youth that is sung during Christmas time:

 Rudolf, the Red Nosed-Reindeer

You know Dasher and Dancer and Prancer and Vixen

Comet and Cupid and Donner and Blitzen

But do you recall…

The most famous reindeer of all?

Rudolph, the red-nosed reindeer

Had a very shiny nose

And if you ever saw it

You would even say it glows

All of the other reindeer

Used to laugh and call him names

They never let poor Rudolph

Join in any reindeer games

Then one foggy Christmas eve

Santa came to say

“Rudolph, with your nose so bright

Won’t you guide my sleigh tonight?”

Then how the reindeer loved him

As they shouted out with glee

Rudolph, the red-nosed reindeer

You’ll go down in history

In looking at the lyrics of the song, it may be helpful to recognize that many of the more secular, less religious songs, were written by Jewish writers.  Perhaps the most famous of them all:  White Christmas was written by Irving Berlin, a Jewish American composer and lyricist.  This song reached a high note when Bing Crosby first sung it in the 1942 film, Holiday Inn.

Robert L. May, a Jewish male, introduced Rudoph to the world in 1939 as an assignment for Chicago-based Montgomery Ward Department Store’s marketing campaign.  Mr. May was said to be an outlier like Rudolph inasmuch as early in his life he skipped a grade in school, was smaller than his classmates, and felt himself to be a loser.  Ten years later, in 1949, Johnny Marks another Jewish male, composed the music and lyrics to Rudolph. Ironically, in 1947, he married the sister of Robert May, Margaret May Marks. Perhaps the work that Robert May had done earlier inspired Marks to compose the song so well-known to children, not only from America, but from all over the world.

The most prominent part of Rudolph, his red nose, is really what the song is all about.  Of course, Jewish people, me included, have been teased about the size of our nose.  My wife’s late sister-in-law, who was not Jewish, once asked my wife, whose nose is by no measure big, whether she had a nose job.  In 1978, I was giving a lecture to a class of psychology students from Fuller Theological Seminary in Pasadena.  When one of them asked if I were Jewish and I replied in the affirmative, he stated that he was from Germany and during his childhood, he had become terrified upon being accosted by German soldiers who had mistaken him for a Jew.  When asked why this happened, he said it was because of his unusually large nose.

Rudolph is also chastised and bullied because of his nose.  But it is his shiny nose that attracts Santa who asks him to “guide my sleigh tonight.”  Suddenly Rudolph is regarded in a positive light as “all the reindeer loved him.”  One can only guess the many thoughts May and Marks may have had in first creating Rudolph, and then, subsequently, composing a song and lyrics.  Perhaps the deep need for Jewish people to fit into America, in part, inspired the creation of a deer that gains both admiration and fame despite the protuberance of its nose.  But it also could have been an inspiration to children, who like May, perhaps did not fit into or were not accepted by any peer group.

If we expand the above idea of some people not fitting into a society, perhaps this speaks to what it’s like to come and settle in a foreign country, such as America, where those that are native born often slight them.  But, if initially they are derided, be it for their customs that they bring to their new home or their outer appearance, their own effort, embodied in their uniqueness, often will culminate in acceptance.  After all, isn’t America a land where immigrants, so much a part of the foundation of this country, set out to fulfill their dreams? In this sense, Rudolph, along with other songs, represented to its Jewish writers a means of fulfilling their dreams by contributing to the music and lyrics that added to the celebration of Christmas.  

Three Fs for Academia

Many of us gasped in utter disbelief when three female college presidents from universities, considered the most prestigious in the country, met at a congressional hearing and were asked whether statements implying genocide of Jewish people went against their code of harassment and conduct.  All three responded similarly by saying it depends on the context or conduct of those individuals.  It was evident that all three had been coached by lawyers inasmuch as their answers almost sounded as if each were parroting one another.

I graduated from one of the three, the University of Pennsylvania, where its President, Liz Magill, came under fire by alumni that culminated in her resignation.  The other two university presidents, Claudine Gay from Harvard, and Sally Kornbluth from M.I.T., have, to date, withstood the criticism and pressure to leave their respective positions.  Although their responses appeared to affirm what appeared to be protests that smack of obvious antisemitism, I very much doubt that any of these three women, in fact, were antisemites.  Their responses to Representative Elise Stefanik’s inquiry at the hearing, subsequently widely televised to the American public, I would maintain was merely a symptom of a much greater problem that has existed on college campuses for a long time.

Experts that study adolescence have likened this period to the German expression, Sturm and Drang, whose literal translation is storm and stress.  The term originated in the mid-18th century and embodied a movement in which free expression and individualism was exalted over the rationalism personified by the Enlightenment.  Puberty and the ensuing rebelliousness of adolescence have become a cliché for this period of life.  This then is the period in which these young people begin to question the conventions of their parents when they attend a college.  Whereas classical conservative beliefs maintain much of a laissez faire (i.e., leave things the way they are) attitude toward their surroundings, liberals on the other side of the spectrum, demand change for the “greater good.”  Contemporary progressive thinking has expanded greater good to mean the protection of classes/races deemed as oppressed.  Because change is what adolescence is all about, many college students are prone to grasp on to a more liberal, or progressive mindset.  Elite universities, such as those from the Ivy League, rather than disappointing these adolescent proclivities, have encouraged them.

Make no mistake back when I attended the University of Pennsylvania in the ‘60’s, there was a Leftist tinge but nothing like it is currently.  I remember taking a course in sociology in which the teacher was a fan of the philosopher, Herbert Marcuse, and he assigned us to read his book:  One Dimensional Man.  Marcuse who taught at Columbia and Harvard in the ‘50’s was a Neo-Marxist who believed that the capitalistic system that focused on efficiency and production of goods was creating a mindless class of workers that lacked any sense of imagination.  A number of commentators have said that Marcuse’s influence on American college campuses may have been the precursor of what now is happening.

This was a faculty member who had little influence on the campus beyond the class he taught.  In any event, I took Marcuse’s ideas with a grain of salt and was not proselytized by them.  The climate on college campuses today is much different than it was when I attended Penn.  Greg Lukianoff and Jonathan Haidt documented many of these changes in their book:  The Coddling of the American Mind.  Both of these authors point out how for the past 8 years the concept of free speech took a reversal when students from various “minorities” complained to faculty and administrators about triggering remarks made by their peers.  These comments were labeled as “microaggressions” and were censured by administrative staff that carried the mantle of Diversity, Equity and Inclusion (DEI).  An example of a microaggression would be when a White student tells a fellow Black student: “I didn’t know you were so smart.”  And, he may add: “I didn’t know Blacks were that smart.”  Often statements such as these are inadvertent, meant to be compliments, but are taken as put-downs.  

Comments, such as the above, are censured by an administrative staff that are hired to enforce speech codes that protect minorities. Furthermore, elite campuses, such as Harvard and Penn, have created “safe spaces” where the DEI designated minorities can stay where no such speech would be allowed.  Rather than fostering a climate where students could learn how to tolerate their differences, administrators have reinforced their potential discomforts in interacting with one another by protecting them.  Here is where the double-standard became apparent vis-a-vis the testimony of the three university presidents:  Free speech applies when the targets are Jews because the latter are not protected by DEI.  Thus, it’s acceptable for students to chant from the “river to the sea” that implies the extinction of Israel, but, microaggressions that are of much less severe content to protected minorities, should be sanctioned.

The result of the congressional hearing has resulted in several affluent alumni of these institutions threatening to withhold donations to these universities.  Moreover, there is talk of Jewish students now being considered a group that could fall under DEI protection.  If this occurs, the only group that will not be afforded DEI protection will be White males.  Neither of these trends are healthy.  Wealth of donors should not dictate what behaviors are appropriate or not on college campuses.  

Perhaps the uprising from the testimony of these three college presidents may result in some constructive changes in the way college life is presently conducted.  A good start would be to dismantle the bureaucracy involved in the DEI.  Reinforcing a victim mentality teaches students to avoid rather than face the everyday challenges that life may present.  On this note, I would hope that Jews don’t become a part of DEI.   Here I go along with that famous quote from Groucho Marx: “I refuse to join any club that would have me as a member.”

To end on a positive note, I hope that the national visibility of contemporary campus life will lead to more open forums and open discussion where controversial topics are voiced and speech becomes less constrained.

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.