CLICKING RIGHT HERE will take you
to the lead story in Sunday’s (November 20) Palm
Beach Post, dealing with “the heroin
epidemic, killer of a generation … hidden in shame and drawing little action.” This twelve page section dealing with this
horrific problem, in my opinion, will win a Pulitzer prize. (It is in a league with the Boston Globe series of a few years ago
which highlighted sexual abuse in the priesthood, and inspired the movie, “Spotlight.) Get your hands on the full section by
purchasing a copy of the paper or seeking it on line. But at least read the lead story in the article
by CLICKING HERE.
This is a problem being treated
far too lightly in Florida (where it
claimed 2,333 lives last year) by government officials from Governor Scott
on down to local officials in Palm Beach County which is the epicenter of this
epidemic, not only locally but nationwide!
Heroin is killing more far more people in Palm Beach County than the
Zika virus, homicides or pollution run-off from Lake Okeechobee, yet these
problems are getting more attention than the heroin epidemic.
Please read the article. It is something which should bring shame to all
those living in South Florida, the entire State and the Nation. Read the lead article of the twelve page section by CLICKING HERE.
I hope it will spur those locally, in
Tallahassee and in Washington to do something about it. At a minimum, all police cars, EMS vehicles
and hospital emergency rooms should be equipped with Narcan, an antidote to
potentially fatal heroin overdosing. Right now that is what is already being done
in some other, more forward looking parts of the country, with less of a
problem than we have here! In
Huntington, West Virginia, for example, even librarians are supplied with it. Only two police forces in the entire state of
Florida, one of which is Delray Beach’s, are equipped with Narcan. Shame on us!
READ THE ARTICLE.
Jack Lippman
Echoes of Andrew Jackson and Populism
I
cannot think of Donald Trump’s Presidency without being reminded of Andrew
Jackson. Although these two men are not
similar at all, they have one defining thing in common. They appear to be populists, which loosely
can be defined as supporting the interests of “ordinary people.”
Well,
travel back to 1828, and there’s a Presidential election coming up. President
John Quincy Adams is running for re-election against Tennessean Andrew
Jackson. General Jackson had lost the
election four years earlier when no one received a majority in the Electoral
College. When the decision went to the
House of Representatives, Henry Clay turned his supporters and their electoral
votes over to President Adams, getting the job of Secretary of State in return,
and the original 1824 electoral vote leader, Jackson, was left screaming that
it was a “corrupt bargain” that took the Presidency away from him. He was correct.
But
now, four years later, things were different.
For the first time, all states (except South Carolina and Delaware) had
given the choice of electors to the voters, rather than leaving it to their
State Legislatures. And loosening of
restrictions on who had the right to vote had more than doubled the number of
voters in the country. Up until then,
all our Presidents had come from Virginia or Massachusetts, but by 1828, power
was shifting from the East Coast, over the mountains to the newly admitted
states. The electorate had changed
radically.
The
Presidential election of 1828 was the dirtiest and most vicious election in our
history, including our most recent one.
Example: Adams’ party (the Democratic Republicans with heavy Federalist
overtones) attacked Jackson’s wife (whom Jackson had married while she still
was married to someone else) as an immoral seductress. She died of a nervous breakdown shortly
before Jackson’s inauguration and he blamed it on the campaign attacks against
her, never forgiving his opponents.
Jackson
called his party the Democratic Party and the name has stuck to this day,
although its positions have changed over the years. Jackson was a slave owner but also was
adamant in opposing Southern insistence on “States’ Rights.” His voters were
augmented by many farmers and working men, many of whom had just gotten the
vote. He was a populist, campaigning
against the prior establishment which he felt was corrupt. In today’s language, he ran to “clean up the
mess in Washington.” At his
inauguration, the White House was overrun by his uncouth supporters who had
succeeded in overthrowing the “elites” who had run the country under the six
earlier Presidents who had preceded Jackson in office.
The
election of Jackson put a final nail in the coffin of the Federalists (Washington
and John Adams) and clearly separated his Democratic Party from the Democratic
Republicans (Jefferson, Madison, Monroe and John Quincy Adams) who split into
several groups, of which the Whigs were the major survivor, under the
leadership of Henry Clay. (In England,
the party opposing the King was called the Whigs; Jackson’s opponents took on
that name, implying Jackson wanted to be a king.)
Prior
to the Civil War, these parties (Free-Soilers, Abolitionists, Know-nothings,
ex-Federalists, left-over Democratic Republicans, etc.) re-combined to form
what is known today as the Republican Party. Those in favor of the Southern position on
“States Rights,” a pro-expansion of slavery approach, drifted back to the Jacksonian
Democrats. This party realignment, enshrining
the two-party system which has endured to this day, was the long-term result of
the 1828 election of Andrew Jackson.
Some believe the 2016 election will be a harbinger of a similar
realignment, both having their roots in what appeared to be populism. Which of the two parties has had the most
“populist” appeal, however, has not remained constant. But that’s a story for another posting on
this blog.
Jackson
stood for reduced tariffs to reduce consumer prices of foreign goods, opposed a
central bank which he felt was a tool of the wealthy, and catered to the new
Western states by brutal treatment of Native Americans possessing land there. But the farmers and working people elected
him twice. His opponents despised him.
Oddly
enough, the defeated 1828 Presidential candidate, John Quincy Adams, did not
fade into obscurity as many such losers have.
He went on to serve seventeen productive years in the House of
Representatives, contributing much to the work of Congress, and serving as a
leader of those opposed to slavery.
JL
Driving Tips
Now
that our winter visitors are arriving here in Florida, here are several driving
tips for those who are not familiar with Florida driving protocols.
1 Changing lanes: When a driver signals to move to an adjacent
lane, with plenty of room to safely do so, remember that Florida drivers
already in that lane always read the signal as an invitation to step on the
gas, increasing their speed, thereby making the lane change being signaled
impossible.
2
Traffic lights: Now that it is winter time, and more cars are
on the road in Florida, the wait time at most intersections has been increased
to enable drivers waiting for the light to change to green to shave, read the
newspaper, apply make-up or engage in yoga or similar exercise disciplines. This is part of the Governor’s campaign to
make the State more tourist-friendly.
JL
Something to Believe In
(Written about ten years ago for our original Writers' Group, it has come to be this blog's traditional Thanksgiving short story.)
Jack Lippman
Wang looked up in amazement at the
gigantic balloons which floated down the avenue above the
paraders. Some were in the shapes of elephants and clowns and
characters he recognized from the TV shows he had been watching. And
the music! There were blaring bands from all over the country
interspersed among the floats.
“But, Mom, what is this parade all
about? Who are we paying homage to?” the thirteen year old asked the
middle-aged woman who held his hand tightly. “I remember parades
like this in China, but they were always in honor of the Party or the working
man. I know you have tried to explain Thanksgiving to me, but who
are we thanking? Where are the leaders we should be cheering, like
we did in Tiananmen Square on May Day?
“Wang,” she answered, “We are giving
thanks for having the things which make our life so happy. You know,
the food on our table, our clothes, the nice apartment we live
in. Americans give thanks in many ways, some even thank God for what they
have, but Wang, God personally won’t be part of the parade.”
Max, on the boy’s other side, gave
Louise a jaundiced look.
“Oh,” the boy
replied. But it was clear that he was still
confused. “You mean I won’t be seeing Jesus in the
parade? He’s the one I usually thank for that kind of stuff. That’s
what Reverend Lee taught us to do.”
“No, but if you want to be thankful
to him, you can, Wang.”
When
Louise and Max had gotten Wang from the Mission Adoption Society less than a
month before, they had been told that the Mission people who had taught him
English also converted him to Christianity, once they had gotten him out of
China where proselyting was illegal. One of the things they had
agreed to was to raise the boy as a Christian. Neither Louise nor
Max really practiced any religion. They decorated a tree at
Christmastime, but had never set foot in a church in their entire lives. Max
was born Jewish, but he lacked a religious background and was totally
non-observant. Louise came from a family of atheists. So,
when they paid the $25,000 adoption fee to the Mission Society, they didn’t
object to agreeing to raise the boy as a Christian. And the Mission
people didn’t really care. So far as Louise and Max were concerned,
decorating a Christmas tree and hanging up a stocking Christmas Eve would
suffice for his religious upbringing. But Wang’s constant
questioning was getting to be a bother.
The
parade was drawing to a close, and the level of tension was
increasing. Wang felt it and didn’t know why, but suddenly,
the final float of the parade came into view. Mounted on a sleigh
pulled by eight animated reindeer, and waving to all, was Santa Claus,
resplendent in his white-trimmed bright red outfit, his snow-covered beard
cascading down over his chest. A loudspeaker boomed out his cries of
“Ho, Ho, Ho, Merry Christmas to All! Ho, Ho, Ho!”
Wang’s eyes opened as wide as they could, as Santa rolled by
their curbside position. The cheers were deafening.
“That’s Santa Claus. I saw him on the TV
yesterday. Is he the one we thank for everything on Thanksgiving?”
This time Max answered him. “No, Wang. Santa
may bring the gifts, but he isn’t the one who gets them for you in the first
place.”
The boy looked puzzled. “If I shouldn’t be thanking
Jesus or Santa for the gifts, should I be thanking you, Mom and Pop?”
“Well, sort of,” Louise replied, but obviously, she wasn’t happy
with that answer and the thirteen year old wasn’t either.
“Look,” he said. “I know you two aren’t Christians,
and until last year, I hadn’t even heard of Jesus. So whether or not
I believe in him really doesn’t matter. I can take him or leave him. But
now you’re telling me that I shouldn’t be thanking Santa either. This
is sort of like what things were like in China. Everyone used to
thank Mao for everything. Now, that was before my time, but then
they told everybody to thank someone else, and finally, just thank the
Communist Party, and that’s what I did in the orphanage, but that was okay
since they ran the place. But who do I thank here in America? I
certainly have a lot to be thankful for, what with you adopting me and
all. I just don’t feel it’s enough to thank just you two for all
you’ve done for me.
My God, Louise thought. Perhaps we should have waited
for an infant, not this boy with his inquiring mind. Maybe he’ll end
up being a scientist or something, she mused.
Later that night, in bed, she turned to Max. “Max, do
you believe in some force that controls the universe, some original cause or
something?”
“Like God, you mean? No … let’s leave it at some kind
of power that started it all, and forget the divinity part of it.”
“You’re more of an atheist than my Dad was, Dear,” Louise
replied. “I’m beginning to think, if only for the boy, we have to
believe in something.”
Max answered, “Well, Miss Atheist, you’re not going to get me
involved with Jesus or back to the smelly old shuls I remember from
Brooklyn. Let’s find something nice and non-religious to credit
everything to, and give that to the kid.”
“At least then,” Louise continued, “He’ll have someone … or
something … to thank on Thanksgiving.”
And so it was that Louise and Max joined an introspective
philosophical group, which met in a professor’s apartment on the Upper West
Side on Tuesday evenings, in the hope of learning some answers to the questions
the boy was raising.
Wang eventually started accompanying them to the meetings, and
perhaps because of his Chinese background, quickly took to what was going on,
and understood the discussions in perhaps greater depth than the adults
there. And he never again had to ask about whom to thank for
the blessings which he received, but he did give great thought to whether the
bounty he shared was indeed a blessing, or perhaps it should be looked at in
another light. He loved to talk about these things with Louise and
Max for hours on end after the meetings.
Louise was very happy with the outcome. Max turned to
vodka.
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