The Newell Post

Is that the best Trump could come up with? I mean he could as well have said. “Fuck you and the horse you came in on.”

I am not sure what the statute of limitations is for “going back to where you came from” or how many years you or your family have to be here before you are no longer included in the group so directed.

I might be in trouble.

My mother came to this country in 1926, but she did not come through Ellis Island as immigrants of that time did. Instead, she came under a visitor’s visa, and she was supposed to go back to County Sligo.

I often think about what America was like for her when she first stepped off the boat. It was the Roaring Twenties after all. (Oh yeah that will be a topic next year.) She had two sisters and a brother already here, and she soon met my father, and there was no way in hell that she was going to use that return ticket.

We think this may have upset her brother back in Ireland, but the Irish are a tight-lipped people, and no one talked about such things.

The point is she wasn’t an immigrant, but we think she was what they called a Registered Alien. Even that is not a certainty.

Would she be considered an illegal if this happened today?

Would The ICE men be knocking on our door at 1261 Leland Avenue?

Or would they simply send a letter telling her to go back where she came from?

What’s next? Will this group of miscreants in government decide to edit Lady Liberty’s plea to the nations of the world “Send us your huddled masses…until we get sick of them”?

We are all children of immigrants, some of whom were not immediately welcomed into the melting pot of these United States. That is not an excuse to haze these new immigrants. Instead, it should be a warning that we remember to remember the lessons of the Good Samaritan.

Evangelicals? How do you look yourself in the mirror with what you have allowed?

Thousands of immigrants were probably afraid to enjoy a Sunday stroll in the park or to go to the beach, or maybe go see the Yankees beat the Toronto Blue Jays.

ICE agents were ordered by the President to round up illegal immigrants and, given the way many have been treated at the border, I would have stayed inside too.

We should all be very scared.

This isn’t exactly what we all learned about truth, justice, and the American way.

It seems Lady Liberty can be accused of false advertising. When she proclaims to the countries of the world to send their huddled masses, was the jailing of men in cages what she had in mind? Was this the opportunity these people were looking for when they came to this country? Maybe she only wanted huddled masses from Norway?

Some of the targets of this  ICE age have children who proudly serve this nation in foreign wars, the like of which Trump avoided as a fat college student with bone spurs.

Look, I think many of us would agree that something has to be done to improve our borders. We don’t want criminals and rapists; we have much too much of them already, some are wealthy supporters of our leaders and maybe even in our government. But nothing has come out indicating anything to link these immigrants with any crime except not having the right card in their pocket.

When I lived on Long Island MS 13 was a significant concern and responsible for many deaths of high school kids. The Suffolk County police created a task force to address these crimes. I don’t remember ICE getting into the picture. It wasn’t viewed as much an immigration problem as a crime problem.

The Irish are drunks; the Italians are in organized crime; the Jews are corrupt money changers. Who else should we attack?

That’s why we should be scared.

Back when I taught American History and the topic was World War ll, I began my discussion on the Nazis stating that they were Christians and loved their families and celebrated Christmas. My students had a fit an immediately yelled at me. “Mr. Newell, you saw those movies. You saw how they tortured and killed six million Jews!”

“Yes,” I replied.”That is the point. Good people, who should have known better followed orders and committed those atrocities.”

Today, good people are putting up with Trump and the miscreants who want to make America white again.

That is what this attack on these immigrants is all about. That’s what the gun issue is all about, too. That is why there is no Republican with the moral courage to stand up to this nonsense.

This is what the Democrats should be addressing not sniping at each other.

We should be scared because the tide could turn in the blink of an eye. Maybe Democrats and liberals will be the new target of hatred and bigotry?

Being white in America may not be enough to protect you. If we continue to let purveyors of racial hatred spread their disease, being white will not protect us from the wrath of God.

To those with a sense of morality, there is no other choice than to resist the haters.

Like most people, I have always aspired to live a comfortable life. I wanted a nice house. I wanted to travel. I tried to raise my kids in a beautiful setting. I wanted them to go to good schools. I wanted enough money to do these things and more.

I guess I got enough money but not nearly as much as I wanted.

But now I am thinking that was a blessing.

When you see two recent examples of billionaires gone mad, you should realize that money is a curse. Money in the amounts that the ultra-rich possess is not just the dollars in their investment, it’s the hubris in their moral life account. It’s the feeling they can do anything, and it can’t be wrong, no matter what they choose to do. Morality is for the poor, after all.

We had one billionaire accused of going to a massage parlor which had been implicated in sex trafficking. Then, you have another who had been charged years ago, given a ridiculously light sentence only to be arrested on new charges when he got off his plane in New Jersey. This guy, “likes them on the younger side,” according to one of his well-placed buddies, the president of the United States.

But this billionaire is bipartisan in his friendships as former President Clinton is also counted among his pals.

If there was any concern about restricting free speech by curtailing the ability of the wealthy, individuals or corporations, to donate uncontrollably to politicians, perhaps now is the time to get over it.

Do we want pedophiles to have a role in determining who is elected to serve the people? Do we want pedophiles to be protected from prosecution and detection by these same politicians?

I guess the Supreme Court does because they had a chance to restrict money’s hold on politics and politicians but resorted to protect the rich and fuck the poor.

How many times has the fall of the Roman Empire been evoked when discussing life in America in the Twentieth Century? Now, here we are in the Twentieth-First Century, and the demise of the American Experiment seems possible.

While Democrats discuss bussing in the ’70s, immigrant children are being held in prison away from their parents because they are from Latin America and not Norway.

Guns are out of control as is the NRA, but God forbid we have a rational gun policy.

It’s all about money, which is power. It’s never about what is best for the nation. It used to be said that what is good for General Motors is good for America. Those were the days.

Now, as long as we all get a good return on our IRAs and 401Ks, these crazy politicians can do what they want. Religion can no longer supply the moral guidance to help us identify right from wrong. Religion has lost its appeal and ethical foundation. Whether it’s the power of the Catholic Church concentrating on its own damage control necessitated by its own sex scandals or the Evangelicals who have been co-opted by its own narrow focus on abortion and the Supreme Court. There is no great American Moral Leander anymore.

ROI has superseded GOD.

In Congress, July 4, 1776.

The unanimous Declaration of the thirteen united States of America, When in the Course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another, and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature’s God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.–That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, –That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness. Prudence, indeed, will dictate that Governments long established should not be changed for light and transient causes; and accordingly all experience hath shewn, that mankind are more disposed to suffer, while evils are sufferable, than to right themselves by abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed. But when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same Object evinces a design to reduce them under absolute Despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such Government, and to provide new Guards for their future security.–Such has been the patient sufferance of these Colonies; and such is now the necessity which constrains them to alter their former Systems of Government. The history of the present King of Great Britain is a history of repeated injuries and usurpations, all having in direct object the establishment of an absolute Tyranny over these States. To prove this, let Facts be submitted to a candid world.

In every stage of these Oppressions We have Petitioned for Redress in the most humble terms: Our repeated Petitions have been answered only by repeated injury. A Prince whose character is thus marked by every act which may define a Tyrant, is unfit to be the ruler of a free people.

Nor have We been wanting in attentions to our Brittish brethren. We have warned them from time to time of attempts by their legislature to extend an unwarrantable jurisdiction over us. We have reminded them of the circumstances of our emigration and settlement here. We have appealed to their native justice and magnanimity, and we have conjured them by the ties of our common kindred to disavow these usurpations, which, would inevitably interrupt our connections and correspondence. They too have been deaf to the voice of justice and of consanguinity. We must, therefore, acquiesce in the necessity, which denounces our Separation, and hold them, as we hold the rest of mankind, Enemies in War, in Peace Friends.

We, therefore, the Representatives of the United States of America, in General Congress, Assembled, appealing to the Supreme Judge of the world for the rectitude of our intentions, do, in the Name, and by Authority of the good People of these Colonies, solemnly publish and declare, That these United Colonies are, and of Right ought to be Free and Independent States; that they are Absolved from all Allegiance to the British Crown, and that all political connection between them and the State of Great Britain, is and ought to be totally dissolved; and that as Free and Independent States, they have full Power to levy War, conclude Peace, contract Alliances, establish Commerce, and to do all other Acts and Things which Independent States may of right do. And for the support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes and our sacred Honor.

I guess the shortest definition of triggers is events in our past that cause us to relive the pain of their occurrence. You relive the trauma, and the pain of something that happened long ago seeps into your consciousness.

It can be compared to PTSD, I suppose.

The topic of triggers was first brought to my attention as a concern that universities had with including specific issues in the classroom, which might serve as triggers for students.

Not everyone was agreed to this institutional sensitivity, and we began reading about “Snowflakes,” students who were fragile and “not as tough as we were.”

The trouble is that I just turned sixty-nine and I may be a Senior Snowflake.

I don’t know what it is, but I can shed a tear at the drop of a hat.

Yankee Old Timers Day was getting to me. Of course, the fact that the Yankees scheduled Old Timers Day for my sixty-ninth birthday may have had something to do with it.

It’s not just the crying, which can be embarrassing when you are flying home from New York, and you have your headphones on listening to your summer playlist and reading the book that your daughter gave you for Father’s Day. It’s also reliving a sanitation truck broadsiding you while you are driving and trying to remain calm and collected. Cool is out of the question in Florida. Currently, 95 as I type.

The thing is we all have triggers that cause us angst if not downright emotional upheaval so let’s go easy on the kids. I don’t know about your Millennials or Gen Ex-ers, but mine are special people, and I love them dearly.

Sorry, I have to go now…no tissues by the computer.

A Father is the guy who took you to your first Yankee game and sat you in the Bleachers because that was where Mickey Mantle played.

A Father is the guy who just couldn’t wait until December 25th to give you your first set of Lionel Trains and so he gave them to you in October.

A Father is the guy who that same Christmas gave you your Santa Fe diesel three days before Christmas.

A Father is the guy who didn’t get you those Mouseketeer Ears you wanted so badly but came home with the most beautiful red two-wheeler you ever had in your life.

A Father is the guy who didn’t always give you what you wanted but made damn sure you got everything you needed.

A Father is the guy who never uttered a profanity in his life until that day you went missing, and he had to search the neighborhood looking for you.

A Father is the guy who answered ‘steak’ to the question ‘What’s for dinner?’ that you yelled to him up at the window when he was calling you in for dinner because he didn’t want the neighbors to know we were having meatloaf.

A Father is the guy who took you to Ferry Point Park on evenings after he worked all day and then had to flag every fly ball that went to the opposite field he was playing.

A Father is the guy who couldn’t tune a ukulele without breaking a few strings but could sing Ain’t She Sweet like no body’s business.

A Father is the guy who made a weekend without electricity the most magical weekend of a kid’s life.

A Father is the guy who was called The Tasheroo Kid and never explained what that meant.

A Father is the guy who didn’t know the definition of a sick day.

A Father is the guy who saw you sleeping on his living room floor and went out and bought a sofa bed the next day.

A Father is so much more than all the things I have listed, and I am only one of his five children, and if you have been blessed with such a Father, then you have been truly blessed.

Universities are reducing, some eliminating, Liberal Arts programs in lieu of career oriented programs. The mantra of STEM, Science Technology Engineering Mathematics has rendered History English Sociology Art as quaint subjects that we can no longer afford to invest any time or money.

Well, that may be a little harsh. Still, the astronomical cost of a higher education necessitates that graduates encumbered by burdensome student loans focus on their marketability in the pursuit of a job. While there used to be a time that a college degree in any major was valued and respected by potential employers, today’s job seekers must demonstrate that they are prepared, competent and meet the employrer’s immediate needs.

The days of learning on the job are no more or at least the number of days devoted to such training are limited. It’s not good enough to be articulate and well read. It’s better that you can handle a computer and manipulated data and develop logarithms than to be able to wax poetic about Moby Dick.

The trouble is that not studying history or reading the classics has serious consequences for the nation. There used to be a time when Civics was part of an elementary education. Math and Science have taken over as the overreaching concern for educators. Standardized testing emphasizes competence in these subjects and while reading is an important factor in achieving a passing grade, unfortunately it is not the type of reading that translates to reading books.

The shocking lack of the knowledge of history is what truly worries me. It is not uncommon for recent college graduates to mis-identify the century in which the Civil War was fought.

There was a story not too long ago in which it was reported that a WWII veteran was introduced to an elementary school class as a veteran of World War ELEVEN!

Who uses Roman numbers anymore except editors of crossword puzzles? But, the failure to know that we have not had ELEVEN WORLD WARS is a little much to take and bold indictment of our failure as a nation to recognize the value of knowing our history.

Today, John Dean is testifying in Congress regarding Watergate supposedly to enlighten Congressional members what obstruction of justice looks like. One commentator on MSNBC, a member of the written press, declared that this is a bad idea as no one today knows who John Dean is. Most were not alive when he was a key figure in the Nixon investigation.

Alvin Toffler you were right, the Future IS Shocking.

Seventy-seven years ago in the European Theater of Operations in World War II thousands of insanely brave men accosted the shores of France at Utah Beach and thus began the end of the Nazi empire.

Back at home, there were no debates about whether this was the right thing to do. No one questioned the President’s motive in ordering the attack. No revisionist historian had yet pondered the dramatic loss of life and whether such sacrifice was prudent. It was a different America. No one was going to apologize.

I thank God for that.

Where would we be in this country, in this world, had these brave men not thrown themselves on the beach that day in 1944? Maybe we would not have prevailed in World War II? Maybe we would be goosestepping our way through life hating everything and everyone not Arian? Maybe the world economy would consist of  Nazi Germany and a militarist Japan?

Remembering those that put their lives on the line for us this day seventy-five years ago is the least we should do today.

That was a time of American heroes when partisan politics had not brought our government to a grinding halt. It was a time when no one would dare question the integrity or patriotism of the American President.

For his part, FDR would never have praised Hitler or Hirohito and insult Churchill. Then, after the war, Truman stood up to Stalin and helped recreate Europe.

The only wall erected was built by the Russians.

It was a much different time.

Years later, when the war in Viet Nam was dividing our country, setting us up for today’s division, you could not argue with a World War II vet about the war. Although many were reluctant to speak about their experience, they never questioned the legitimacy of the war nor their duty to answer the call to defend this country.

It was a much different time.

These heroes possessed an undying faith in their country, in their President, in their religion. There may have been atheists among them, but they didn’t openly mock believers as you often see today on cable news and even commercials supporting atheism.  Believe or don’t believe, just don’t mock. It’s so unAmerican.

Growing up in the 1950s included the continuity of faith in our country. It was demanded of us though never a word had to be spoken. It was just taken for granted that you supported our nation. When the USSR threatened us with annihilation as Kruschev banged his shoe at the United Nations, President Kennedy was respected even by those disagreeing with him.

It was a much different time.

Perhaps on this one day, we can put our political and cultural hostility behind us so that we can focus on the heroes who assaulted the beaches of Normandy to ensure our freedom to disagree.

This entry of The Newell Post was written six years ago. Eileen and I attended an event celebrating our surviving cancer. It was a moving experience, and we came away convinced that we needed to share our story, not so much to write for ourselves as to try to encourage hope in others who may be facing this dreaded disease.

Since that time, we have written the book and moved to Florida. Cancer had a role in both.

Here’s hoping you are all well and celebrating National Cancer Survivor Day along with us.

Yesterday was National Cancer Survivor Day and Eileen and I celebrated it by attending a meeting of survivors. The day started off with a  definition of “Survivor.” The broadest would include not just the cancer patient but the patient’s entire team. Family, friends, health care providers make up the team, and when I think that Eileen and I each had our own team, the number of our combined team members is staggering. It continues to grow.

The next thing I learned is that I was embarrassed, listening to the experiences of the panelists who offered their experiences with cancer and being a survivor. I had it so easy compared to many of the people who spoke and those in the audience who merely nodded their heads in agreement. When I think about what my own wife, Eileen, endured during her treatment and what she continues to endure, I feel kind of silly and ashamed thinking about the times I was feeling sorry for myself.

I also learned a new mantra. Victor, not Victim. Again, I was humbled by the few times in my thirteen years of surviving when I felt sorry for myself. I will now try to live up to the concept of being a Victor and leave the Victim behind. I should have learned that lesson from Eileen, but I have sometimes been known not to listen.

The other thing I learned is that Eileen and I have a story to tell. We started talking about it before yesterday’s meeting, but Eileen got a head start at 3 AM this morning. An idea for the title of the book that we will write is His Story Her Story: A Couple’s Guide To Survival.

The concept is that we will each write about our own cancer and that of each others’. We will each write from the vantage points of patient and caregiver. I was the patient first, and I never knew how hard it was being a caregiver until it was my turn. Eileen has already started writing her view as a patient, and I am not sure how I can match here poignancy and emotion. She gets right to the heart of the matter while I have a tendency to worry more about how I write rather than what I write.

Though we may differ in style and, at times, subject matter, I think we both will accomplish illustrating the importance of family and friends and health care providers who make you feel it is their life’s mission to make your day. I would never have imagined going into an oncologist’s office and being happy to see the people there. It is one of those blessings I mentioned earlier.

I guess that if you are reading this, you are a member of our team in some way. You have either supported Eileen and I directly or, perhaps, you have supported members of our family or one of our friends. You certainly have supported other cancer survivors.

It’s a big club.

One of the hardest things for adults to adjust to is that there are no longer any “last days of school.”

Even those who have gone back to school to pursue an advanced degree miss out on the last day of school phenomenon. There is absolutely nothing better than the last day of school. The Peter Pan in all of us, longs for that feeling of freedom and late morning sleep-ins.

I can remember sitting in a classroom in Blessed Sacrament as we approached Memorial Day. Remember, back then Memorial Day was celebrated on May 30^th. It didn’t matter if it created a long weekend for us. So, Memorial Day ushered in summer because it ushered in June. June was just around the corner and that extra day of May was more like Summer’s Eve despite the fact that the official start of summer was three weeks away.

When June 1^st arrived, I was in Summer Heaven.

You could see it in the faces of the teachers and Nuns. They had that thousand-yard stare indicating they were as done as we were. They wanted summer to begin just as much as we did.

My most vivid memory of school in June was thirst. There was no bottled water back then. In fact, the only mobile water containers we had were our trusty water guns, but you didn’t dare bring those to school. I can still see myself sitting in the row next to the window and a bookcase with a vase full of water perched on its top shelf.

I would hallucinate just thinking of that water and how good that flower must feel. You know you are having a bad day when you are jealous of a flower. Every now and then we would be allowed to get a drink from the water fountain, but most times we just sat and suffered.

But it was June, and I knew I wouldn’t be stuck inside a classroom for long.

Eventually,  the school day ended, and we all went home and quickly changed into our play clothes and set out to play baseball, softball, curb ball, or triangle. It didn’t matter what kind of ball we played, we just played ball.  We may have interrupted our game for dinner but, because the days were longer, we were allowed to continue until it got dark. But then we went home and attempted a little homework and got ready for a new day of school.

But, it was June, and school’s days were numbered.

Finally, the big day arrived. It was always a half day because, why not? We hadn’t done any real work for a week now, why don’t we just all acknowledge that we are done and set off on our summer vacation?

The kids who went to public school had another tradition to mark the beginning of summer. They threw their sneakers over the telephone and electric wires that crisscrossed our streets. I never understood this. After all, it would be a long time before I would ever wear shoes again and I needed my sneakers. It takes all kinds, I used to think.

In addition to being thirsty, another strong memory of mine is the music that was played on the radio. I can still get happy just hearing some of these summer songs. This appreciation of summer music would continue even into my college years and beyond. Well, I am really in the beyond category as I approach my next birthday, but I still love my summer music. I love it so much I have created a Summer Playlist on my iPhone, and I will share it with you now. They are listed in no particular order, and I usually listen to it in the shuffle mode. Here they are:

Summertime Summertime                            The Jamies

All I Really Want To Do                               The Byrds

The Bells of Rhymney

Chimes of Freedom

My Back Pages

Draft Morning

Goin Back

It Won’t Be Wrong

She Don’t Care About Time

Wasn’t Born To Follow

You Won’t Have To Cry                        As you can see I like the Byrds

Badlands                                                 The Boss

Bus Stop                                                 The Hollies

The Girl From Ipanema                          Getz/Gilberto

Had To Cry Today                                 Blind Faith

HOT HOT HOT                                    Buster Poindexter

I’d Love To Change The World             Ten Years After

In The Summertime                                Mungo Jerry

In The Year 2525                                    Zager and Evans  (Oh, that takes you back, doesn’t               it?)

It’s My Life                                             The Animals

San Franciscan Nights

We’ve Gotta Get Out Of This Place

Jamming                                                    Bob Marley and The Wailers

No Woman No Cry

Positive Vibration

Waiting In Vain

Kokomo                                                   The Beach Boys

The Rain In The Park                               The Cowsills

Saturday In The Park                                Chicago   (also appears on my Yankee Stadium list)

Sing This All Together                              The Stones

Summer In The City                                  The Lovin’ Spoonful

Younger Girl

Summer                                                      WAR   (You may have missed this, but it is a great song.)

A Whiter Shade of Pale                              Procol Harem

What A Little Bit of Love Can Do             Jeff Bridges      (Yes, that Jeff Bridges)

Waiting In Vain                                          Jimmy Buffet

King of Somewhere Hot

Weather With You

Good Morning Starshine                                  Oliver

Hot Fun In The Summertime

American Woman                                   The Guess Who

Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is?     Chicago

Everybody’s Talking                                Nilsson

My Cherie Amour                                    Stevie

Summer Wind                                          Frank

The Boys of Summer                               Don Henley

A Whiter Shade of Pale                           Procol Harem

A Salty Dog

1865 (96 Degrees In The Shade)           Third World

I am sure I will be adding to this list.

Ndakuvara                                        Oliver (Tuku) Miyukudzi    Seriously, check iTunes

Let me know some of your suggestions.

Happy June everybody!