We take a point of personal privilege today, and in doing so also take a blessed, momentary respite from the woes that is Trump. I’m mentioned in the past my cousin Diana Leviton Gondek, who’s a very talented artist back in Chicago. (Actually, she’s a very talented artist wherever she is…) I’ve noted her getting a commission from the City of Chicago to make several large, wonderful horse sculptures to honor fallen Chicago police officers that were placed around the city, including the lobby outside the mayor’s office, when Rahm Emanuel was His Honor. She also was commissioned to design the 50th anniversary poster for the Special Olympics (which I never knew until then began in Chicago). And just received a grant from the State of Illinois. I bring up these few items of many to make clear it’s not just my bias saying what a very talented artist she is. But rather my honesty… Diana is now involved with a project on behalf of epilepsy, the Hidden Truths Project, which is dedicated to engaging and empowering those with epilepsy through the arts. (Founded in 2012, they've raised over $500,000 for epilepsy research. You can read more about the organization here.) And on behalf of that, she was interviewed by the local CBS television station that did a piece on the exhibit. You’ll see her with a painting she had in the show – her new style is one I particularly like. And happily, she sold it, and proceeds will go to the charity. You can see more of her work here. And so, using Squatter's Rights on my own website, here's the two-minute video.
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At the moment, things are actually beautiful here in Los Angeles, where I've made the decision to tough it out. No hurricane will keep me from standing strong with all the people here!! As proof, this is a photo I took from my balcony. As you can see, it's sunny and calm. We're all in this together!
I don’t have much to add about the excruciating disaster in Lahaina that even touches close to the reporting and video footage, and I can’t put my reaction anywhere in the universe of those whose lives are part of the community. This is not intended to. But that I feel as heart-sick as I do from just two trips to Hawaii, with one visit to Lahaina, speaks to how overwhelming and almost indescribable this conflagration is. I’ve mentioned in the past that my friend Peter Carlisle was Chief Prosecuting Attorney of Honolulu for about 17 years, and served as Mayor there. And I have good friends from Hawaii. So, my appreciation of their deep love of the state and its history from all our talks over the decades has them as its foundation. On one of the trips, I went to Maui and drove to Lahaina to spend a couple days. I didn’t know much about the town, but read up on it, and loved his whaling history. Lahaina has a wonderful, sweet charm that was different from the grace of the rest of the state. It had a sense of the past and world culture that seemed to be living all around you. But most of all, I loved staying at the Pioneer Inn. It permeated the Old World with simplicity and warmth, and I soaked it all up, reveling in knowing not only how it fit into the whaling past, but that people like Mark Twain had stayed there. Its wood structure painted white, with wonderful wood slats in the windows, and a Polynesian sensibility crossed with New England sturdiness. (When I initially posted this article, I didn't think I had a photo I'd taken of the Pioneer Inn, but happily I was able to find it.) In fact, although the trip to Lahaina may have been 35-40 years ago, I had such a strong appreciation of the Pioneer Inn that even after all those years I have still kept a souvenir of the hotel to maintain a connection. Though a small souvenir, but it's brought great memories, a match book. In the back of my mind, I had thoughts of returning to the Pioneer Inn. But the moment I heard there was a fire crushing Lahaina, I know the hotel was gone. And likely the town. When I’ve thought of the Pioneer Inn over the years, I thought of “wood.” And the town had that feel, as well. It wasn’t going to stand against roaring flames. Lahaina would be a place for memory.
And that’s what Lahaina is now. Heart-sickening is the only word for me to describe it, and that doesn’t even come close to doing it justice. It’s not just that everything has disappeared, and that emergency relief will be so difficult for people there to access. But once they do, once they get their FEMA support, once they get their government assistance, once they get their insurance – there’s no Lahaina there to go back to. It’s gone. (There is also one other sickening aspect to this disaster. It’s all the delusional, empty people who point to this soul-crushing loss and try desperately to say “Wait, this wasn’t a natural disaster at all. Look at this photo and that shaft of light. This was from aliens.” Lahaina was a community about the natural world. Nature was at its core. And the winds and heat and flames that tragically came together in the changed climate world we live in today sadly become a part of that history. Those who try to make it about something conspiratorially phantasmagoric not only demean themselves, but spit on the lives of all those who have lived in Lahaina over the centuries. Happily, they missed by a lot.) People will return. Lahaina will be rebuilt. Chicago burned down in flames, and returned to become one of the great cities of the world. And there will be a thriving Lahaina. At some point. But Lahaina is different, Lahaina was about history. And those structures are no more. Those museums are no more. But at least the thing about history is that it’s always there where it was. So, while the Lahaina that returns will be new and different, there will be in its spirit the Lahaina that always was and will always be. That may not be enough in many ways. But it’s something. And it’s important. Aloha. I was trying to figure out what to write today about Indictment Day on Tuesday. I’m not a lawyer, so I can’t add much in analyzing the minutely-detailed law. And I can’t add much to what analysts said on TV for nine non-stop hours. The most I can write is, “Yippee!” but that’s a pretty short column for such a notable day.
By the way, yes, I know this is a “Solemn Day” (tm) when a former U.S. President is indicted for trying to overthrow the government. But it’s not like this is Trump’s first indictment, it’s Indictment Number Three. And he’s also been found liable in court for committing the equivalence of rape. And we all lived through the Mueller Report describing collusion with Russians, two impeachments, an Insurrection, three years of crying about non-existent stolen elections, and pushing the Republican Party towards fascism. So, while the concept of a “Solemn Day” (tm) is totally true, we’ve already lived through our share of Solemn Days, and it’s really closer at this point to something more like -- “Finally! It’s About Time!!! Day”. So, how then to address yesterday’s “overthrow the government” indictment and add some totally different perspective that is not being gotten from the news??? And it occurred to me. The Glasser Files. I have a great friend with whom I regularly trade emails about all manner of subjects, including an intense interest in politics. He’s always asked to be kept out of being mentioned in columns here, so I was stunned in our exchanges yesterday when he said, yes, you can use my name. (I love his reason when I expressed my shock. He teaches college these days, and said, “My students know your column -- I use it to teach argument essays -- and they don't want me to be a wuss.”) So, let it be known, students, that Professor Barry Glasser is officially no wuss. (I doubt seriously that Barry goes by “Professor,” but I like the way it sounds.) A little background on the good fellow, to put this in perspective. Barry is a maven of movies. Early on, he and I wrote a couple of screenplays together. He’s in the Writers Guild, and was a seriously-impressive PR expert at several studios, as high as VP of Publicity. He’s written several produced movies, notably Gold Diggers with Christina Ricci and Anna Chlumsky. Created a couple of animated series (one of which I wrote for). And has produced five movies and two TV series. He’s directed, is a playwright, and is a member of the Motion Picture Academy, joyfully participating with the International Film Committee, inhaling their movies at Oscar time as only he can. A few years back, Barry wanted to get back into teaching. He left Hollywood (though has continued writing and producing) and got hired by a college in Texas. (Yes, I know, Texas. But somehow he found a political oasis in the state that has let him live without screaming in agony 24/7.) I know his students are aware that Professor Glasser has Hollywood credentials. I don’t think they have any idea how lucky they are to have him teaching them. Barry is a deeply solid, thoughtful guy with a great sense of humor. A rock of substance and with great enthusiasm when it’s deserved. But he has two other qualities that stand out. One is that he binges streaming series and movies to the degree that he has reached the exalted, Black Belt level of Master Guru of Bingeing. He’ll get caught in binge cycles so exhaustive that sometimes I expect him to send out an S.O.S. plea for “Dear God, help! I’m drowning in an ocean of binge!” And this overlaps with the second quality – his love of politics. He’s impatient in his politics worthy of a Binge Master. So much so that he dives in and gets involved with campaigns. His binge-like impatience with politics often leads him to a state of grave concern when things he wants don’t happen fast enough, for which one of my official duties is to "talk me off the ledge.” As any election nears, he’s in full-angst mode. He’s wanted Trump convicted since, I think, halfway through his first year in office. (“What is taking them so long??!! When is he going to jail?!”) So, when news started to break yesterday that something very serious seemed up in the D.C. courts, I knew that Barry was likely glued to the TV (it’s Summer break) – watching, waiting, on the edge of his seat in binge-anxious hell and fevered anticipation. Which leads us to my thought of taking the perspective of Trump’s latest indictment away from standard TV commentary and putting it through the uncommon lens of Glasser World. When news seemed at a higher pitch that something maybe, possibly might be about to happen, I knew that the semi-calm of television analysts was not matched by what was even remotely going on with my friend. So, I sent the following email to him -- Subject: Calling all Emergency Vehicles in Texas “Please be put on standby alert and head to the Glasser residence where homeowner may have need of oxygen from anticipatory hyperventilation and post-celebration excess.” I got a barrage of emails in return. Lots of “Are you watching this? Are you watching this??? When will they indict him already???!!” That brought forth another email from me -- “I hope you padded your walls, because I have this image of you bouncing off them like a pinball.” And then, finally, he got his six-year wish, and it was announced that Trump had at last been indicted for trying to overthrow the government. I didn’t even wait to hear from him – for starters, I wasn’t sure if he might have entered a state of nirvana so high that he might not be able to type. So, I wrote to him first – Subject: Weather report update from Texas “Attention all news stations: “There is NOT – repeat, not – a tornado in the state. That explosion of air was only Barry Glasser exhaling his years-pent-up energy.” To his credit, he loved these notes. I suspect it’s because he was aware that I was probably pretty close to accurate. His emails flew in furiously, as he binged writing them -- “Loved Ari Melber's line: This isn't a speaking indictment, it's a shouting indictment.” “Finally. What Trump himself knew we needed. Retribution.” “Jack Smith charged so smartly. And he drew a killer judge. God was present.” “It's like watching the greatest Frankenheimer political thriller ever conceived.” Leave it to Barry to throw in a movie allusion. John Frankenheimer, one of the all-time great directors of political thrillers. The Manchurian Candidate, Seven Days in May, Black Sunday, The Train, French Connection II, Ronin, as well as Birdman of Alcatraz, Grand Prix, The Rainmaker…and more. In fact, Barry kept returning to his love of John Frankenheimer movies. And he tied it incredibly cleverly into an overlap with current movie culture, writing -- “Again. Today's theme is not Barbenheimer. It's Frankenheimer. Seven Hours in August. The moment to moment suspense. Breathtaking.” I was laughing throughout. Not only because it was all Pure Glasser, but also because I knew he was speaking for so many others, who understood it was a “Solemn Day” (tm), but also “Finally! It’s About Time Day”. Imagining the cyclone of joyful release that must be going on at his home across the Texas prairie, I wrote an email that said in its entirety -- “Glasser Neighbor: Keep it down in there, for God’s sake!! I can hear you across the street! It’s so loud I can’t hear my music and it’s scaring my dogs. Glasser: But Trump was just indicted!!!!!! Glasser Neighbor: Oh. Congratulations. But please keep my dogs in mind.” Popcorn for dinner was brought up. As was popping the cork for champagne. Emails were falling over themselves. It was like a cascade of joy. And I’m sure, as I said, that it was a feeling of paradise held by many households across the country – just not at the same explosive level of visceral, pent-up release. After all, I have no doubt the celebration in his home continued many hours later. Most likely he’s on a political binger. And it will last until the election kicks back into gear, at which point I may have to talk him off the ledge. Though now, at least, he has his indictment safety net built in. * The preceding was brought to you courtesy of a generous endowment from the John D. Rockefeller Charitable Trust. If you know someone with a bingeing problem, call a professional for help, but know that it is curable. This article is dedicated to the Honorary Society for “Students of Barry Glasser”. Past, Present and Future. When in Hollywood, visit John Frankenheimer’s star on the Walk of Fame. This is a really great article in the New York Times about composer John Kander who wrote Cabaret, Chicago, Kiss of the Spiderwoman, the scores to the movies All That Jazz and New York, New York, and so much more. And clearly such a deserving subject, at age 96, still working on Broadway. It will not shock you that my favorite line had nothing to do with the theater, but was the description by the reporter about Kander still -- "...making the bed, tight as a drum, as he was taught at Camp Nebagamon when he was 10." For the record, I started at Nebagamon at age 11 (though my friend, Los Angeles Times journalist Patrick Goldstein, who was in my cabin, was a mere kid of 10). And, yes, we did have to make our cots each day, because every cabin was graded by the Day "Push" (a lumberjack term, since the camp was in Wisconsin's North Woods, on the grounds of the original Weyerhaeuser lumber mills) on how clean it was. What the article doesn't note is that two other people at camp with John Kander at the time were brothers William Goldman and Jim Goldman. They all stayed lifelong friends, were roommates in New York, and even collaborated on a musical together, A Family Affair. Later, Kander went off to his legendary career, William Goldman went off to write Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid and All the President's Mean, and James Goldman went off to write the play A Lion in Winter and the musical, Follies, with Stephen Sondheim. My one quibble with the article is when the reporter says that Kander doesn't like the song "New York, New York." I've never heard him say that. All that I've heard him say is the same thing he says in the article. That he "doesn't get it." But not getting why something is SO popular is not even remotely the same as "not liking it." Anyway, how great that he's been getting all this attention -- finally -- at age 96. You can read the terrific article here even if you don't subscribe to the Times, because I've embedded it with a gift subscription link. It will come as no shock to people that I love the Chicago Cubs. And I particularly love the radio team, headed by Pat Hughes. In fact, when I watch Cubs games with my MLB.TV subscription, I use their "overlay" feature that syncs up the radio broadcast to the TV picture, rather than the TV play-by-play. It's not that I have anything against the TV team, they're pretty good. But I love listening to Pat Hughes, teamed up with analyst Ron Coomer. Pat Hughes is just warm and knowledgeable and funny and observant and wonderfully entertaining, just a really terrific broadcaster. And as I noted here a few months back, he was just elected to the National Baseball Hall of Fame, receiving their Ford C. Frick Award. And the induction ceremony was over the weekend. By the way, Pat is wonderful partnered with Ron Coomer, but when he was previously teamed with another Ron, former Cub great Ron Santo (who was posthumously elected to the Hall of Fame), the two were special -- in fact "unique" might be a better word. As an announcer, Ron Santo bordered on the good side of incompetent but was SO human (he once apologized for being late after an inning break because "I was in the bathroom" and another time brought the family's cleaning woman to the booth), SO funny (intentionally and otherwise), had such an other-worldly phenomenal rapport with Pat Hughes (who clearly protected his broadcasting limitations...) and loved the Cubs SO much that when the two did a broadcast, people in Chicago didn't say they were going to listen to the Cubs game, but rather "The Pat and Ron Show" (something Pat Hughes referenced in his induction speech). In fact, the station's email address for the radio broadcast was "@patandronshow.com".) Anyway, I can't let the day go without embedding Pat Hughes' acceptance speech. It's only 15 minutes, tells some good stories and some funny ones, and much of it is spent praising other people, rather than talking about his career -- which is just so Pat. If this isn't something everyone here wants to listen to, I understand. But hopefully you'll give it a couple of minutes, just to hear how warm and personable he is. |
AuthorRobert J. Elisberg is a political commentator, screenwriter, novelist, tech writer and also some other things that I just tend to keep forgetting. Feedspot Badge of Honor
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