David vs. Goliath

David vs. Goliath

It was Bob Costos who said, “Tiger Woods exhausts all superlatives.” Tiger proved that again over the 91 holes of the U.S. Open, which lasted the four days of the tournament at Torrey Pines in Southern California, into Monday and a 18 hole playoff with 45 year old Rocco Mediate, who was ranked 158 next to Woods’ No.1, and then finally into sudden death where, on the first hole, Tiger prevailed by getting another clutch birdie to Rocco’s par. He had gotten two eagles and a birdie on the back nine to leap into first place and on Saturday; and on Sunday, with Rocco in the clubhouse watching, Tiger sank a nerve-wracking 12-foot putt to tie for the lead. It was a bumpy ride to the hole but the ball caught the right edge and fell in. 50,000 people went wild and Tiger did a double pump with both fists and yelped like a banshee, The U. S. Open, unlike other tournaments, has a rule that an 18-hole playoff must take place on Monday.

Even up to this point the match was already considered a classic, with Tiger scrambling while hobbled by a painful knee, due to an operation a month ago, as he made some incredibly difficult shots to stay abreast of Rocco who was playing the game of his life. It brought to mind that confrontation Tiger had with Bob May in 2001. May, another low-ranked player who was playing way over his head, pushed Tiger to the limits just as Rocco was doing. It was a prototypical David vs. Goliath situation.

25,000 people showed up to see the playoff, an unusually large number for a Monday contest. I was at Click’s Pool Hall playing 8 ball and the playoff was on a big TV next to our table. My concentration was so split we finally quit playing and retreated to a Famous Sam’s in the neighborhood to watch the final four holes on a better television. The crowd seemed to be cheering equally for Tiger and Rocco, Mr. Everyman who was going toe to toe with the best golfer on the planet. Rocco was different than other opponents because rather than intimidated by Tiger he was simply excited to be there and playing well at the right time. He was amiable, chatty, somewhat like Lee Trevino, who talked a lot and kept everyone loose. He gained a lot of fans with his carefree attitude. But when he got over the ball he was quite focused on what needed to be done.

Both competitors had shone through this remarkable Open. It was an event that would long be talked about for its drama, clutch shots, and its Odd Couple pairing. Tiger got his 14^th Major, which means he needs four more to tie Jack Nicklaus, and, if memory serves, his 70th win. He’s on top of the world, the only threat to his continuing dominance being that gimpy knee that already has been operated on more than once. It could possibly shorten his career, or so wondered the pundits of the golf world. As for Rocco he made a cool $810,000, his largest paycheck ever, and became the 51^st millionaire on the list for 2008, and there’s two majors and many other events on the docket for the rest of the year. He had the time of his life competing with Tiger like he did, and although he lost, he was satisfied by his performance. And well he should be.

There was a farmer who brought a large ostrich egg into his hen house. He set it down as the hens stared at it. He told the hens take this egg as your role model. Try to match its size. That was a story told by one of the golf wits on the Golf Channel; it was by way of analogy to Tiger’s dominance on the Tour. Goliath or ostrich egg, Tiger is BOSS.

Two Movies, an Iron Man and an Iron Fist

I finally saw “Iron Man,” a diverting, slick, and entertaining piece of escapism that has brought Robert Downey back to prominence as one of our better comic actors. It is pure comic book fantasy brought to the screen with all the requisite CGI magic, gadgetry, explosions per square inch, with a Super-hero who flies to Afghanistan, not on a magic carpet, but in a supersonic iron suit, which gets him there in the wink of an eye, using a fuel source I’d like to put in my truck. Tony Stark, alias Iron Man, starts out as the mere shadow of his father who was a successful weapons inventor and dealer; he is also a man-about-town and a hedonist who chases the ladies. But during his first trip to Afghanistan under the auspices of the Army, some Islamic bad guys capture him. It’s his first experience of bad guys up close and personal, and through the encounter he sees the light and becomes a do-gooder, who, like Batman saved Gotham from the malice of The Joker, he’ll do his part to quell the deadly ambitions of the terrorists. It’s an old formula in the world of comic books and it still works magnetically among the young, who can’t seem to get enough of Super-heroes, Arch-villains, explosions, hi-tech hi-jinxes, and the rest of it. Personally, I enjoyed the droll humor of Downey, and I look forward to seeing more of him as Tony Stark / Iron Man. Next time Tony will be in cahoots with Samuel Jackson, the head of S.H.I.E.L.D.

Two days before seeing “Iron Man” I saw “Nanking,” the story of the Japanese invasion of China in 1937, a prelude to the Second World War. I knew something of the savagery of the Japanese when they occupied Nanking, the then capital of Chang Kai-shek government. But this documentary reveals just how extreme and deliberate the killing was. A good deal of the visual material in the film is from grainy footage from the late thirties. The film also explains the part played by some Westerners who witnessed the massacre of tens of thousands by the occupiers; they came up with the idea of a SAFETY ZONE in the international section of the city of 500,000 people that the Japanese were supposed to respect. Citizens crowded into the zone to save their lives. That was no small accomplishment when you understand that 260,000 people were killed between December.8, 1937 and February 3, 1938. Add to that astonishing number the 20,000 women raped and killed because dead women tell no tales. Three of the main Westerners were John Rabe (Jurgen Prochnow), a German administrator who had lived in China for a long time; Dr. Robert Wilson (Woody Harrelson), an American doctor; and Minnie Vautrin (Mariel Hemmingway), Head Administrator of Ginling College for girls. Other witnesses were several elderly Chinese who had survived the siege and the carnage, and also a handful of Japanese soldiers who were still around that gave their reading of events in a cold, matter-of-fact way. All the witnesses were filmed in color, while the raw footage from the thirties was black and white and rather scratchy. But you could see the beheadings of men thought to be soldiers, bayoneting others, and burying people alive. The brutality was unimaginable, and many people in other countries could not believe the Japanese would do such things. Many scenes looked like a prelude to the German Concentration Camps.

The film is graphic and disturbing, another testimony of man’s inhumanity to man. It relates the same old story: How the Sunni feels about the Shiites, who they describe as “dogs,” and how the Turks could slay 1.5 million innocent Armenians in the early 20^th century. The Japanese were raised to believe that the Chinese were subhuman, so it was no big deal to kill a multitude. Joseph Rabe was Nanking’s equivalent to Oskar Schindler, another German who went out of his way to save many lives. “Nanking” is now available on DVD. I highly recommend it as a tragic chapter in the wars of the 20^th century; it is a powerful glimpse at awful events that actually took place, although I doubt if such events were described in a novel, few would believe them.

NBA Finals: Boston vs. L. A.

The NBA Finals: Boston vs. L.A.

Prelude to Game Two. There has been a lot of talk in the media and around the water coolers across the nation about Paul Pierce’s knee injury and all the theatrics involved with getting him off the court, first by his teammates carrying him to the sidelines, where he got in a wheelchair to go to the locker room. From all appearances he was in excruciating pain. Doc Rivers thought it was a catastrophic injury and entertained thoughts of the championship flying out the window. Pierce was the team’s leading scorer and has been for several years. Without him they’d be in trouble. But, alas, within two minutes he walked unaided back on to the court, accompanied by thunderous applause from the Celtic faithful, so happy to have their wounded warrior back in the game. He had no limp; he had a kneepad on but that’s all that was out of the ordinary. He went right back in the game and before you could say Larry Bird he scored two three pointers which were pivotal in the outcome of the game. Here was an injury and recovery to rival the heroics of Curt Schilling in the World Series a few years ago—I am thinking of the episode of the bloody sock and Schilling going the extra mile with it. Angelinos, however, remain skeptical about the whole episode and tend to see Pierce as a hot dog not a true hero.

Game Two. The big change at the start of the game was the Lakers drove to the Basket rather than taking outside jump shots. They had the early lead until the Celtics defense tightened and they began to score some points. The first quarter ended with the Lakers ahead 22-20. The other factor that became immediately obvious was the refs seemed determined to call a lot of tacky fouls with the vast majority charged to the L.A. club. They home team usually gets the majority of calls but in this game it was beyond reasonable. A foul was called every 20 seconds or so, allowing no flow to develop. By 9:40 of the second quarter the Celtics had forged ahead by 8 points as Leon Powe made 8 points in 3 minutes, 4 of them coming from free throws. Pierce ended the first half with 16 points. The halftime score was 54-42 in favor of the Celtics. As for the free throw count, it was 19 to 2 in favor of the Celtics. After the game Phil Jackson called that “ridiculous.” He also pointed out that Powe had more free throws than the entire Boston team, in the first half and in the game. He called that “unbelievable.” TV commentator, Jon Barry, skip over the rank foul calling in the first half, saying, “The big difference in the game was the Boston’s tenacious defense.”

The third quarter started out poorly for the Lakers who played as if discombobulated. The Celtics, scoring at will, went up by 24 points. The Lakers had no rhythn, too many turnovers, and had trouble rebounding against Boston who played more physical all night long. But with 4:29 left in he the third quarter they got the score down to a 9-point difference. But the Celtics came right back to boost the score to 79-59 in a two minute scourage of scoring. However, in the fourth quarter the Celtics grew complacent and the Lakers made a run at them and nearly pulled the game out. They scored 41 points in the quarter, 13 by Kobe Bryant, and the team as a whole sank 7 out 9 three-point shots to accelerate the comeback. But the Celtics sank some free throws at the end to clinch the victory, 108-102.

Pierce and Kevin Garnett combined for 45 points. Coming off the bench the surprising Leon Powe scored 21 points and played extremely well. Rondo had 16 assists. Pierce showed no aftereffects of his knee injury. Boston shot 53% through the game. The fourth quarter rush of L.A. upped their shooting percentage from 48% to 51%. Kobe had 30 points and Pau Gosal had 17 points and 10 rebounds. But the lack of free throws (30 to 10), too many turnovers, and a porous defense were too much to overcome.

The next three games will be in Los Angeles.

One other event this weekend is worth a mention, and that was the strange behavior of Big Brown, the horse that was supposed to be a cinch to win the Triple Crown. Instead he quit early on and came in dead last. Why is a real mystery? His owners and trainers looked him over afterwards and could find nothing physically wrong with him. It looks to me like he just did not want to do it on Saturday. He got blocked early in the run and then got to the outside, which should have been an ideal place for him to turn on the turbo jets. But instead he said, to hell with it, I am not up for this today. His jockey went with him, saying,"I had no horse today.” This is a horse that got a shot of a steroid once a month, but he hadn’t had one since April 15. He won the Preakness without a shot. There will be much speculation about the influence of steroids. Was the lack of it a factor in the horse’s withdrawal from competition? Is there such a thing as a psychologist for horses? If there isn’t, maybe there should be.

Golf in the Kingom

Golf in the Kingdom

47 year old Kenny Perry emerged the victor in the Memorial Tournament in Dublin, Ohio, which garnered him just over a million bucks and advanced his chances to make the Ryder Cup team, something he is very anxious to do. It was the journeyman pro’s 10^th win on tour, which positions him in the middle echelon of accomplishment as a pro golfer, those who win between 10 and 20 tournaments. (That’s my own scheme of things. Others may measure accomplishment differently.) Perry pretty much coasted on Sunday, racking up one par after another and getting one well-placed birdie on the back nine, while other contenders began to stumble or fade. His 3-under 69 provided him with a 2-shot victory; but his total of 8-under 280 was the highest winning score in 23 years. That was because the event was pestered by rain, a soggy course and strong winds.

Annika Sorenstam was a non-factor in the Ginn Tribute event in South Carolina, shooting a 75 on Saturday, which ruined her chances at winning. Lorena Ochoa, although scheduled to play, withdrew to attend the sick bed of her father’s brother in Mexico; the uncle eventually died over the weekend, so it was a good thing she was there. Sophie Gustafson went into the final round with a whopping six-stroke lead, something many players would sell their soul to the devil to have on Sunday. It sounded very safe, but it wasn’t. She blew it with a whopping 79, with 5 bogeys and 2 double bogeys to end up 3 strokes back. It was one of the worst collapses in LPGA history. The two girls who leaped forward were Karrie Webb and See Hwa Lee; they ended up tied for the lead at 274. The Playoff ended on the first hole when Webb, who had missed a couple of short putts during her round, missed a 3-footer for par, which would have continued the playoff. Lee turned toward her caddie with a look of disbelief, as if she didn’t really believe she had won the Grand Prize of $350,000, one of the best paydays on the Ladies Tour.

In a good move, Michelle Wie played in the Ladies German Open over the weekend. There was bound to be less pressure on her there, out of the spotlight for change. She played credibly, finishing in 6^th place and finishing under par for the first time in almost two years. However, an 18-year old Korean girl named Amy Yang, who lives in Orlando, FL., outclassed Wie by shooting a sparkling 63 on Saturday and finished up with a 67 to win the tournament. Nonetheless, doing as well as she did Wie should have gained some confidence back by performing up to her talent.

Sticking to the kingdom of golf, John Daly’s turbulent life is back in the news. On Sunday (6/1) there was a long article in the New York Times by Larry Dorman about how he drives his best friend, Pat Perez, also a pro golfer, to despair over attempts to reach him to start changing his behavior and bad habits in order to save himself and to recoup his career before it is too late. Perez is 32, ten years younger than Daly. According to his friend, J.D. refuses to admit he has a drinking problem and that is the main block to change. Butch Harmon, the renowned golf coach, recently cut all ties with him, saying, “The most important thing in his life is getting drunk.” Perez said he doesn’t know what it will take to wake John up to the fact he is walking a plank over a sea of booze. It doesn’t take a wizard to know that he is a heart attack waiting to happen.

Controversy has followed Daly’s career since his first improbable victory on tour, the winning of the PGA Championship at Crooked Stick in 1991, when he first demonstrated his awesome drives that seemed to fly into the next county. He was a likeable chap straight off but since then his appeal has slowly been eroded and is in sad shape today. All three of his marriages and divorces have made headlines. In one case all who saw him play that particular weekend saw his scatched up face, supposedly an attack from his last wife, who has had legal troubles of her own. He has pulled out of tournaments because he got an eight on a hole and gotten angry with his game, rather than sucking up the bad score and shaking it off, rather than indulge in a petulant display.. Then there are all his failures at alcoholic rehabilitation and all his ups and downs with sponsors, which are part of his legend. Golf is by and large a gentleman’s game—think of the roll models, Bobby Jones, Byron Nelson, and Jack Nicklaus—so Daly’s ‘bad boy’ image is wearing thin and quickly becoming his nemesis. He has gotten away with it for a number of years but now people who flocked to him in the past are now saying enough is enough. At the same time his game has deteriorated, while he has not been not receiving the sponsor exemptions he used to get routinely. He has won and lost two fortunes, as he likes to gamble as well as drink. Legend has it he once took the $25,000 he won in tournament and spent it all in two days on partying and gambling. But now his ability to make the big bucks is in serious jeopardy. Perez keeps telling him if he could clean up his act he could make $5 million in no time at all, which is probably true, as he does have a remarkable talent. But the only way to rein in the beast inside him is to admit he has a problem. No positive move will be possible until he does that. Ask any member of AA.

Duck You Sucker

“Duck You Sucker” was the title Sergio Leone gave to the second-to-last film he made, a story about the Mexican Revolution: he chose it because for some reason he got it in his head that it was a common expression in America, even though his two stars, Rod Steiger and James Coburn, told him it wasn’t. Actually it was called “ Fistful of Dynamite” between 1972-2003, until the original title was brought back for the film’s restoration in 2003. The 2-disc DVD special edition only became available in the States in 20

I saw it when it was first released in the early seventies. I was impressed then and I still am, and I have long wondered why it doesn’t get the recognition that it deserves. The film has a more serious intent and tone, thematic complexity, character development, and authority than the Spaghetti Westerns he made with Clint Eastwood in the sixties; movies that were made strictly for entertainment, which did not try to make a statement within the Western genre, although they certainly revived the western as subject matter for film. His final two films, “Duck You Sucker” and “Once Upon a Time in America,” are darker, full of melancholy, and more focused on consequences. I also think Leone was very much aware of Sam Peckinpah’s “The Wild Bunch,” as for example, both narratives take place in approximately the same time period, 1913, prior to the First World War, a time of transition between the closing of the frontier and the modern urban world. There is also a similar attention paid to technology: Sean Mallory (James Coburn), the Irish revolutionary, shows up in a cloud of dust riding a motorcycle not a horse, just as the Wild Bunch are utterly amazed when they see their first motor car. Both General Mapache and Juan Miranda (Rod Steiger) have to learn their way around a machine gun, a new weapon of mass destruction. There are set pieces in both films dealing with spectacular blowing up of bridges--shades of “The Bridge Over the River Kwai.” Both films were considered too long by their producers and vital parts were cut out; they were later put back in. There are two versions of “Once Upon a Time in America,” a butchered 2-hour version and a 4-hour version, which is a great film.

The Eastwood trilogy was extremely popular and made Leone a lot of money. But the trio of films that came afterwards--“Once upon a Time in the West,” a saga that had Henry Fonda as a steely-eyed ruthless killer, “Duck You Sucker,” a title that seemed to suggest a comic western, and “Once Upon a Time in America,” a long movie about Jewish gangsters in New York City in the 1920s—did not do nearly as well. However, over time their quality has been recognized and all three are now considered by many to be his best work.

The movie opens with a scene that once again evokes “The Wild Bunch.” Peckinpah opened his film with a bunch of kids playing with two scorpions being smothered by thousands of biting ants within an enclosure; they eventually burn the insects by piling straw on them. Leone has Juan Miranda, a poor peasant who looks poor, scruffy, and sweaty, piss on a tree trunk crawling with ants, destroying them not by fire but by a deluge. A large fancy stagecoach filled with members of the ruling class picks up the bare-footed Juan; they treat him like a mongrel dog and speak about him as if he isn’t there. Class issues raise their ugly head, as Leone shows his left-wing sympathies. To these plutocrats the peasants are nothing but animals. Minutes later Juan’s six children stop the stagecoach, kill the driver, invade the interior under the direction of their father,

rob the passengers and strip them of their clothes and send them off naked. For good measure Juan rapes the only woman on board, although she doesn’t seem to mind too much. ‘Animals’ aren’t so bad after all.

Then Sean Mallory shows up, a man who happens to be an expert with explosives, dynamite and nitroglycerine. Juan’s eyes light up when he meets Mallory, who he calls ‘John,’ because he has a dream: to rob the bank in Mesa Verde. Juan feels running into him is an encounter with the perfect collaborator. Sean sees Juan in a similar fashion but with a different agenda. He does help Juan get inside the bank but there is no money inside, which Sean knew, but there are hundreds of political prisoners in rooms in the basement that are released by Juan and his boys. When Juan emerges from the bank he is regarded as a hero. It is his first step away from his original personality. Sean introduces him to other insurgents in Mesa Verde and, although he feels out of place, he throws in with their plans to fight the Federales. The ex-IRA agent mentors the former carefree bandit who starts acting like a revolutionary. But as the tale unfolds we discover there are consequences to this transformation. After John and Juan blow up that bridge, they discover that the Federal troops have killed their compatriots, and that includes Juan’s six boys. It’s not only a devastating loss for Juan; it is a terrible guilt trip for Sean, because he knows he is the agent behind Juan’s change. There is one exchange before they find the dead boys and the others when Juan tells his new friend that the intellectuals come up with the slogans and plans but it is the poor who end up dying while the intellectuals go on alive. “The people who read the books survive.” Sean throws the book he was reading into the mud, as he knows there is an element of truth in what the uneducated Juan said.

The explosions become bigger and more spectacular as the story goes on. First it is the stagecoach, then it’s the bridge, and finally a train loaded with explosives rams another train loaded with a thousand Federal troops. Juan is in the thick of the battle and as Sean runs to join him he gets shot in the back by Colonel Ruiz, the Nazi-like bad guy behind all the killings of compatriots. Juan kills him and rushes to his friend who is mortally wounded. Juan runs for help but when he is out of range, Sean blows himself up with his remaining dynamite in his duster. It is a spectacular blast of swirling red and yellow colors, a fit end for a man like Sean. The last image in the film is Juan’s face looking back at the blast and then straight at the audience. He mutters, “What about me?”

There is much in the movie that I haven’t touched on; there are many layers of meaning and some cross referencing to paintings by Goya and Manet, to other movies, and to Leone’s experience during World War II. If I had any problem with the film it was with some of the editing and with Rod Steiger’s performance. Steiger was chosen over Eli Wallach because he was a “hot property” at the time. Leone had to temper Stieger’s tendency to over emote and to use too many baroque gestures. He was well known as a method actor. But the two men worked it out and were satisfied with the end product. His expansiveness and garrulousness worked in counterpoint to Coburn’s more introspective and quiet interpretation of Mallory’s personality. Jason Robards was Leone’s first choice to play Mallory, but he was busy with a film already. It was Henry Fonda who persuaded Coburn to go after the role because it was such a treat for an actor to work with Leone. I’d say the main theme of the movie is the nature of friendship between men, and there is very good chemistry between the two American actors. They became ‘blood brothers’ despite their enormous differences, real human beings, not icons like the no-name gunslinger of the Spaghetti Westerns. The friendship takes place within a political context. The bandit with a family who was only interested in money becomes transformed into a fledgling revolutionary that must go forward without his mentor. He is left in an ambiguous state but it’s real. I thought of that wonderful last line in “The Wild Bunch,” when Sykes come back to “the bloody porch” to find Deke Thornton, the last survivor of the original gang. Sykes has joined the Mexican revolution and invites Thornton to join too. He says to him, “It ain’t like it used to be, but it’ll do.” Juan Miranda could agree with that sentiment.

The last gesture that Sean/John made toward Juan was to return to him a chain with a crucifix that he had ripped off his neck when his children died. Meaning: keep the faith, baby.

Journal Notes: 5/17/08

Journal Notes. 5/17/0

It seemed pretty obvious from the beginning that the Chinese’s government’s quick response to the catastrophic earthquake was conditioned by the negative worldwide response to the slow, callous and largely indifferent reaction of the repulsive Junta to the cyclone in Burma, and to China’s ham-fisted response to the Tibetan insurrection and their difficulties with protesters in the Western world in regard the carrying of the Olympic flame. They have softened their attitude somewhat and have scored some points with the international community with their response to the earthquake. I would not call it altruism exactly, but everyone is ready to salute them for getting to the region swiftly and with thousands of troops. It has everything to with the upcoming Olympics and how desparate they are for it to come off without a hitch and for it to be a showcase for a positive China in the world’s eyes. Three weeks after the horrendous cyclone in Burma the cruel Generals that rule in that unhappy land have still not allowed international aide workers into the Irrawaddy delta, their fear of foreign intervention is that great.

A part of me wants an intervention, as it seems the only answer to helping the people in the badly effected area. But that’s the heart’s response not the head’s. My wife chided me for even contemplating such a thought, as another military invasion. In my own mind I saw intervention as Humanitarian not as a military takeover. Perhaps those two things would ultimately be hard to distinguish. Like in Iraq. But to my surprise the author Robert Kaplan, whose books I have read, except the latest ones on the military, has written an op-ed piece in the New York Times that advocates a military intervention in Burma on Humanitarian grounds, but at the same time he realizes such a thing would probably bring about the downfall of the Junta, which would undoubtedly involve us once again in nation-building. He would need some Western partners in this effort; they could join with forces we already have in the region. Sounds great. It would be like Iraq: The first phase would be the quickest and easiest; the aftermath of ‘Mission Accomplished’ is the burr under the saddle and why nothing of the sort will happen. The U.S. Military is so stretched as it is, and the repercussions with China could be huge; as it is their sphere of influence. It would be viewed as a move only an empire would think about making. The motives to help may be anchored in good intentions, but the Bush Administration would not be trusted. If Obama was President it might be perceived differently.

Still, it is irksome to have to accept the situation as is. Thinking of the Generals one says to oneself, “What’s wrong with those people?” But that’s a cry in the wilderness with no echo. Neither does Kaplan have good things to say about Aung San Suu Kyi’s democratic movement. In his judgment they are not capable of running the country.

Big Media has convinced the country that Obama is the Democratic candidate. It’s a bit curious, and paradoxical, that the final switch took place right after Hillary’s trouncing of Obama in West Virginia. It’s the math, stupid! That’s what they all say. Bush and McCain believe it too, as they are in full-throttle attack mode already. In the last couple of days they have indicated how they will stress National Security and treat Obama as a know-nothing junior officer still wet behind the ears. Yesterday they both tried to label Obama an “appeaser,” in the same camp as the likes of Neville Chamberlain in 1939 and a U.S. senator who advocated talking to Hitler to prevent the war—a Republican I might add. This is a criticism that is hoary with age, but a favorite with the G.O.P. They still believe it has some clout behind it; to their base it might, but not much beyond it. It has worn thin in recent years. You can cry wolf only so many times. Nonetheless, Obama and his handlers need to deal with that kind of crap for the next 5 months. “McBush” oppose any discussion with enemies or radicals, as if it is like getting cozy with the devil. Of course it is all right for Bush to walk hand in hand with King Abdullah of Saudi Arabia, and kiss his ring pleading for Saudi Arabia to pump more oil. We have also talked to the North Koreans and Condi Rice has talk to Iranians through proxies. McCain, sounding disingenuous and cynical, said, “It would be a wonderful thing if we lived in a world where we don’t have enemies. But that is not the world we live in, and until Senator Obama understands that reality, the American people have every reason to doubt he has the strength, judgment and determination to keep us safe.” Obama’s response to McBush was they were “replacing strategy and analysis and smart policy with bombast, exaggeration and fear-mongering.”

New York Times columnist, David Brooks, took a broader view of Obama’s attitude about terrorists and radicals. He sought out the senator to get his views up close and nuanced. He told Brooks he flat out rejects the notion that diplomatic moves are equivalent to appeasement and surrender. “Those are the terms of the debate that have led to blunder after blunder,” he said. Obama’s stance in regard talking to radical groups does not pivot on “moral disgust,” (Brooks) but rather on “an argument between ideology and foreign policy realism.” He believes nothing ventured is nothing gained. Brooks sees something of the first Bush in Obama, who has no quarrel with Desert Storm, and that there is also something of James Baker in his make-up. That sounds like a begrudging approval from a sane Republican.

The Diving Bell and the Butterfly

Tucson (5/4/08)

“The Diving Bell and the Butterfly” won an Academy Award as the Best Foreign Film for 2007. And its director, Julian Schnabel, won the Best Director Award at Cannes in 2007. Schnabel is better known as a painter, the one who used to attach dishes to the surfaces of his canvases. But “The Diving Bell and the Butterfly” is his third movie and all have been critical successes. The other two are “Before Night Falls” and “Basquiat.” I am not sure if he is still painting or not. If not, his second career is well launched.

The opening sequence to “The Diving Bell and the Butterfly” is a challenge to the audience: it’s frightening because you are locked inside the skin and perception of a man who is discovering he has had so serious a stroke that it has turned him into a quadriplegic. His only connection to the outside world was one eye. It was a terrible shock to discover you have what a doctor calls “locked-in syndrome,” and since the viewer is seeing within the framework of that one eye and hearing the patient, Jean-Dominique Bauby, talk to himself since he can think but not vocalize his thoughts, one has a real feel for what kind of isolation goes with the syndrome. In short, it is scary and profound. As viewer you have to overcome your own fear of a stroke, where it can leave you, like stranded alone on that desert island of the mind. (Bauby was 42 when he had his stroke.) But, fortunately, the film moves on to other perspectives, making it somewhat easier to watch.

Instrumental in Bauby’s summoning his will to live and to accomplish something despite the his handicap are ‘Three Graces,’ three women, all therapists, who vow to help him communicate and even to write a book about his experience. They do it by means of his blinking eye, a binary system of one and two blinks that identify the letter he wants the therapist to write down and thus how they build words, sentences, and paragraphs—a book. They use a chart that arranges the alphabet according to letters used the most and the least in a three-tier arrangement. It was a tedious system but they had nothing else to do. Bauby would wake at 5 AM and figure out what he wanted to say that day, and the therapists would come in at 8AM, and the two of them would work the rest of the day. The movie also makes clear that his memory and imagination were not crippled in any way, providing him with a lively and stimulating inner cinema on his desert island of the mind.

The movie was just released on DVD.

And now I feel compelled to include a personal note. The movie made me reflect on the women who helped me get through heart surgery a year ago. First of all there were the professional women, the nurses and nurse’s aides. Secondly, but not less in importance, were my ‘Three Graces,’ my wife and two daughters.

Several of the nurses were so kind and sweet I can’t say enough about them and how their care and attitude lifted my spirits when I sorely needed a healing boost. The surgeon was, at best, a peripheral figure, someone I saw for 10 minutes the week I was in the hospital after quadruple by pass surgery. It was the support of the women that got me through the experience AFTER the surgeon did his thing. A few were young and attractive too, which was a definite bonus, as it was for Bauby. Two were older matrons with plenty of savvy. I nicknamed them all ”The Love Squad.” I was glad to see any of them night and day. They gave me massages, they were at my beck and call, they took walks with me, and they talked to me about many things. Two of the gals had an art background, which was a real surprise. I had one of my daughters bring in some of my drawings. Naturally, they all praised me to the sky to make me feel good.

There was one gal I don’t think I’ll ever forget. She was a nurses’ aide; let’s call her Carol. She was 36 years old, raven haired, and had an irresistible bubbly personality, one of those women who light up a room when they enter. She was a real look-a-like of the French actress Juliette Binoche, a little heavier perhaps, but by no means Rubenesque. Her background was a surprise: she fought in the Bosian war for five years, against the Serbs. Five years! She’s lucky she got out alive after that long. She was married to a Tucson man, a Mexican American, probably a soldier she met during the war. Her sunny personality might have resulted from surviving the war. From here on out life was gravy. I will always be a little bit in love with her. She was a definite curative influence, a balm for body and soul.

My Three Graces were wonderful too. It was a trial for my wife, Carolyn Sue, because she dislikes hospitals and the medical establishment. But she was a trouper and came every day for at least a couple of hours. She was suspicious of doctors and had had some angry run-ins in the past, when I was in the hospital with a bleeding ulcer in 2000. But she brought me whatever I wanted from home and her quirky humor was always a pick-me-up. I appointed my oldest daughter, Nasima, who has a Masters degree in Medical Sociology, as my chief advocate. She had made it her business to know about doctors and hospital and procedures, and she did a great job for me. My younger daughter, Kaia, came to see me often and stayed as long as she could. She was 8 months pregnant at the time. All three of them were a pleasure to have around and buoyed me up every time they walked into my room.

One of the first things I did when I went home was write a letter of appreciation to the Supervisor of Nurses, telling him how great the staff had been. I mentioned each woman by name and I was pleased to hear that my letter was included in the nurse’s monthly newsletter. Those women made an experience I was not looking forward too much better than I expected it to be. When I reconsider the experience in my memory, I don’t think so much about the fact my chest was ripped open and strangers poked around inside, or about the pain and discomfort I felt for a month, but what is my paramount memory is ‘The Love Squad’ and what they did for me. Bauby and I were both very lucky to have been served so well.