".. And The Lawn Mower Is Broken"

 

It is a funny quote from James Dent.  Although it can be a  subtle metaphor for life, it can be insightfully profound as well. For instance, it can mean, taking the good with the bad. Although for most husbands, specially those lounging on a hammock under an oak tree, a broken lawn mower in the garage, snoring to "a midsummer night's dream" (apologies to William Shakespeare implied), are all taking good with the good.

Unfortunately, in a case like this, where one "good" is allowed to persist for weeks on end will all be blown away one day by one letter from the homeowners association (HOA) about a violation of the by-laws on yard maintenance. Furthermore, hammocks are prohibited in the front yard. 

HOA, love them or hate them, strikes when least expected. They are the inveterate spoilers of suburban life, the subdivisions' dreadful interrupters of spring and summer. They come armed with phone cameras, plying the streets with eagle's eyes for the slightest irregularity in how the picket fence was repaired, or the driveway is no longer pristinely unblemished as the original concrete, thus requiring the services of a power washer. 

But did you know that HOAs are mostly inactive in the winter time? But not long after the last frosty morning of spring when bees and butterflies come around to pollinate the flowers, HOA marauders too drive around like wasps and hornets armed with an encyclopedic memory of the association's volumes of regulations and by-laws. 

And so it is then when husbands must move the hammock to the backyard and either fix the lawnmower, or risk the hefty fine and the ire of the HOA board. Either  way, it's a choice between hurting one's back or the pocket book. Husbands, given the right financial circumstances later in life, are well advised to outsource  the chore to the professional lawn service providers.  

You take the good with the bad.  The good with HOA, to be fair, is that if not for it, who will prevent homeowners from painting their homes bright-red orange or avocado-green or turn their driveway into a car repair bay, or let their front yard become a natural habitat for creatures great and small, or what started out as a weekend yard sale is extended into a mini flea market? I exaggerate, of course, but HOAs are the necessary guardrails to the proverbial slippery slope.

Now for the serious business of life's perfect summer mixed in with a broken lawnmower.

Life, if we've learned it well enough, is not always layered with perfect circumstances because it comes constantly sprinkled with just the right amount of not-so-perfect ones. The latter is just as significantly important if only to remind us that we do not inhabit a perfect world.

Our lives will always come with hopes of spring and perfect summers but we must expect and be vigilant of the  broken lawn mower. 

For three decades I have enjoyed playing tennis. As to be expected of a sport of stop and sudden go, from side to side, forward and back, coupled with the march of time, I've encountered my share of broken lawn mowers. Injuries to the wrist, elbow and ankle, and other seemingly unrelated visitations by aches and pains. That brought me face to face with the orthopedic doctor one day. I knew he was serious when he said, "Let me ask you this, how much do you really love tennis?".  Although I knew he was leading the conversation one particularly dreadful way, I still replied that I love to keep playing that when my wrist got persistently injured, I switched to playing lefty to which he interrupted with, "Listen, that's the wrong answer, because if I have to do surgery on your Achilles heel and tendon, the next time you see me when it gets re-injured, the surgery I will do is not so you can keep playing but just so you can walk.  I suggest you find something else to stay fit". That was one big broken lawnmower.

I was surprised at myself, however, that by the time I reached home after the thirty minute drive, I got over it. Then I decided to take up swimming, learned the proper way to do it and now I swim  1000 meters freestyle, non-stop in 30 minutes.  (I may have mentioned in my earlier musings that I was doing it in 26 minutes, but now I realized I was swimming in a 25 yard pool and the Garmin wrist watch I started wearing confirmed it. There's a huge difference between a thousand yards and 1000 meters - 40 lengths vs. 48, 20 laps vs. 24.).  But then that motivated me to swim the longer distance; "just because".

That is how I turned  the broken lawn mower into "good" because swimming is something anyone can do almost at any age.  I'm glad I did and my Achilles heel and other troublemakers of physiology never bothered me once.

Now, for the biggest broken lawn mower in our life. My wife was diagnosed with Parkinson's almost three years ago.  As can be expected, not only is it such an overwhelmingly hard and difficult burden for her, it has affected everything around us.   And we're reminded again that the ticket price to living longer is to grow old; but not without the challenges, yet we must realize that whatever is thrown at us, the alternative presents a grimmer picture.  The pain of movement, the slowness of ordinary motion, the frustration and helplessness when and where ordinary chores we took for granted that we could no longer do are enough to show us some imperfections to expect from lives long-lived. 

My wife, like everyone with Parkinson's, was dealt one seriously "broken lawn mower".

But you know what, there is so much good to take with the bad. Just ponder for a moment about the inconveniences of living longer today and how we are able to cope with them, because we live in the 21st century. It must  be the envy of those who dealt with them just fifty years ago. And to be living where we are today, in a country blessed with so much, presents plenty of good with a few bad.  This is not just ebullient optimism, it is about confronting reality head on. For a minimum copay, insurance paid for a motorized scooter, a wheelchair and a four-wheeled walker  for my wife. By just imagining how and what it must have been like fifty years ago, some of the burdens of today are partly assuaged.

Do we miss the travels we've enjoyed and rue all the unrealized plans to travel more?  Yes, but while we missed all future travel plans, we too missed, rationalizing justifiably now, the stresses of the airport experience, the tedium and drudgery of air travel. It all balances out, if we must take the good with the bad, that with the joy of "being there" are matched by the inevitable rigors of "getting there", both ways, going and coming.  Don't get me wrong, we do cherish those experiences but are forever mindful that we were years younger then and the memories remain in our memory, now a little hazy, but the photo albums are always there to reminisce with total clarity. My wife over the years has kept over twenty photo albums all meticulously chronicled and labeled, neatly arranged at her library. Afterall, all the travels we've had now reside only in our memory and the photo albums. You see, every world traveler, no matter how seasoned or how they fabulously planned their trips, each and every experience is now a memory. We cherish those as best we can. 

We can still travel through YouTube and TV specials, practically anywhere we want to go in the comfort of our living room. TV can bring them and  all those we planned to do  and then some, at the click of the button.  Machu Picchu, Iceland or the Angkor temples in Cambodia to name a few we haven't gone to are available for streaming. What I'm saying is that the mind will overcome  broken lawn mowers of unfulfilled  travel plans - limited only by our desire to explore from our armchair. 

Do we miss going to the movies? Yes.  Do we miss having to drive, the parking, the randomness of where we get to sit, etc.? No. The only thing to miss is the big screen.  The sound, with today's technology, can be replicated by 5.1 stereo surround, tuned to your living room's listening area, if that is truly what one desires to be important; but a 55-inch plasma or LCD screen five feet away from your seat should be close enough for the big screen experience. Set that aside and we find that at home, we can pause the show for a bathroom break or snack. We find that old movies we watched again are better understood because certain parts of the dialog that Marlon Brando used to mumble are all made clear by closed captions.  The broken lawn mower of not being able to go to the movie theater is easily fixed where popcorn and drinks do not cost an arm and a leg.  And  you are no longer at the mercy of the randomness of the availability of vacant seats or hostage to who sits next to you, in front and behind you, because you are in your favorite seat and location of your choice and the bathroom is no more than twelve paces away, the refrigerator even closer.

We miss going to the stage theater too but then again there are choices  at our leisure either through paid subscription or YouTube. And you can walk out anytime the show is not to your taste. That is not easy to do at the live theater, not until intermission, anyway.  And don't forget the bathroom privileges of watching the show at home.

How about going to  restaurants to eat out.  At our age, do we really miss that?  Again, like in traveling, the last restaurant meal you had, no matter how sumptuously prepared and presented, are soon memories the following day you wake up. Depending on one's inclination there are quite a number of ways one can replicate a dish, given time and motivation, through one's own home cooking. That may sound overly ambitious but retirement presents ample opportunity to the adventurous and the willing. And again, YouTube, the cooking channels and recipe books are there to help.

The least I can do today for a household of two is to embrace the chores that my wife used to do thousands of times during her able days. She did it  for four, with two growing boys, when she managed the household with a lot less financial wherewithal than now.  One may look at it as a challenge to be grasped with the enthusiasm of a new hobby or simply a fervent desire to make good, "you promise to be true in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health". My wife had done much of her share in advance at  higher degrees of difficulty while I now have the privilege with so much more financial leg room to move about.  

There are obviously more words to express but the reader gets it.  So. I will end with a simple example.

Every now and then my wife and I would go for breakfast at one of the local restaurants nearby.  Almost invariably, she chooses her one favorite - "Yogurt parfait".  Presented in a fancy bowl with all the trimmings, the "Frenchy" sounding  restaurant (so named because the franchise root is New Orleans, Louisiana) is "licensed" to charge what eating out costs.  Restaurant dining, while now a  hustle to do, has become as rare as a double rainbow to us.

One day I researched how yogurt parfait is prepared.  Well .. below, based on what I read  this is how I prepare it for her besides pancake or French toast, pan-de-sal topped with fried egg sunny side up, oat meal - choices from the menu I offer her each morning. And this is exactly what the Frenchy restaurant has, sans the fancy bowl and presentation; at a fraction of the cost. And she gets to choose the yogurt.  She has options on what flakes to put on top. 

There are, of course, many examples that will far exceed the limits of one musing but it is well understood that one must embrace caregiving to a spouse as a simple act. However, it is one to be embraced for the nobility of the partnership and standing by a promise made by both because it is where necessity ends that kindness is profoundly given and felt.

Broken lawn mowers are part of the realities of lives long-lived. We must realize soon enough though that if we view life as a painting, one may have to squint hard to spot the broken lawnmower sitting at the corner of the garage - a tiny part of the landscape. 

The Mamdanization of America?

Yes, Google redlined the word, "Mamdanization". It does not exist even in  Urban dictionaries. Either it will fade away, like so many made-up words or indeed it will become part of our lexicon. The word will vanish with the next ebb tide if U.S. style democracy prevails and retains its capitalist economy. Or America, in fact, turns away from the pages of its storybook success filled with the realized dreams of its founding fathers and the millions upon millions of Americans who followed since, including those who chose to leave their own homeland to come here.

For the benefit of the international readers, the word above comes from NY city mayoral candidate, Zohran Mamdani, a self described socialist whose campaign promises include a lot of "free stuff" - from free bus fares to the public, government-run grocery stores, rent freezes, higher taxes to the rich, $30/hour minimum wage, replacing police with unarmed social workers, no cash bail, decarceration of prison inmates, etc.

Shockingly, during the primary, he bested a seasoned politician and former state governor of New York.  Even more intriguing is that support for the kind of agenda he espouses is spreading to other local politics and the endorsement of a few congressional politicians.  Not quite a national phenomenon yet but the fact that it is gaining traction, albeit slowly, presents a potential to influence the next generation.  A generation, say,  to develop within the next twenty five years which points to the year 2050.  Sounds familiar?  Four years ago, I wrote, "2050: The Ebb of the Tragic Trajectory of a Once Powerful Nation"

I wrote then in discussing the two challenges that confront the nation then and today, "One is about conserving the ideals and belief systems of what brought this country its decisive success for over two centuries.  The other half is about liberally forging and fundamentally changing the country into something else.  Worse is the slow but almost penetrating allure of socialism". I warned about it in 2021, long before Mamdani was even a politician, nor was socialism even considered a worthy subject in U.S. politics.

How serious is socialism?  How bad can it be?

Let us be reminded to juxtapose the American experiment that began in 1776 with another that started in 1917 as the Bolshevik uprising, but more generally known as the Russian Revolution. It was five years after that, in 1922, that the Soviet Union was established. It played a major role during WWII in defeating the Nazis which made it a formidable force during five decades after the war in half of Europe. At which time the Soviet Union aimed to spread its governing doctrine not just in Eastern Europe but in Southeast Asia as well.  It oversaw the division of Germany, the creation of the Warsaw Pact, and in Asia the birth of the CCP (China), North Korea (PRK), North Vietnam and Cambodia, that prompted diplomat John Foster Dulles to coin the phrase, "the domino effect" of nations falling to communism, sometime in the 50's. To the other side of the globe, Cuba's Fidel Castro succeeded in creating the lone Communist country in the Caribbean and efforts to spread it in South America failed to take deep roots with the death of Che Guevarra.

Then in 1991, the Soviet Union collapsed.  Along with it, the reunification of Germany and the disintegration of the Warsaw Pact.

Let's go back to the idea of Mamdanization.  Zohran Mamdani does not claim to be a Communist, instead he proudly declares that he is a democratic socialist repeatedly each time he is asked the question of his ideological philosophy.  

Well, let us be reminded that the Soviet Union was formally known as the USSR. Lest we forget, the USSR stood for the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics.

What about China? Formally, it is the People's Republic of China (PRC) but the political party behind the government is the Chinese Communist Party (CCP).  The civil war that precipitated its creation covered the years from 1927 to 1949, which coincidentally followed the Russian revolution in 1917, after which the Soviet Union was born in 1922.

China almost became a failed state between the years 1958-62 when it was estimated that 15 to 55 million perished from widespread famine. The wide range of the estimate was primarily due to  unreliable communication infrastructure across much of the rural population.  Most analysts concluded that the cause was 30% due to natural weather and climate events but 70% was caused by mismanagement of its economic policies and archaic agricultural practices.

The question is why China is economically successful today and a military power to boot while the USSR failed. It made one major pivot. It started operating its economy like a capitalist system while keeping the government's grip on the execution of policies as a communist state. Proof of it is, according to Forbes magazine, that there are 450 billionaires in China, not including 66 in Hong Kong.  That puts China in the No. 2 spot next to the USA's 902. Political control, however, remains ironclad; any sign of dissent is summarily quelled (Tiananmen Square, remember?).

Much of the world cannot begrudge China's standing because there is no arguing with success.  Perhaps, it has found the golden key to open the case for the, "Benevolence of a Socialist System?, which I wrote on Dec. 18, 2020.

In one Mamdani's interview, he made it known that he abhors billionaires, and that they should not exist at all. He told NBC News’ “Meet the Press,” “I don’t think that we should have billionaires because, frankly, it is so much money in a moment of such inequality, and ultimately, what we need more of is equality across our city and across our state and across our country.”

If New York City elects him as mayor, the repercussions could conceivably lead the country to unprecedented political pathways never once before paved, let alone traveled on. The question is why his campaign is catching on.

It is possible that that portion of  half of the politically divided electorate is latching on to the latest bandwagon of a political movement in place of climate change, social  and environmental activism that appear to have their course run to the ground. Climate change noises have been reduced to a murmur that even Greta Thunberg shifted her attention away from it to  Gaza in the midst of the Palestinian/Israeli conflict.  Mamdani may have simply tapped into another radical idealism  in a city under economic stress where a good portion of the young voters and the  disadvantaged can latch onto. The lack of national leadership and absence of  coherent agenda from Mamdani's political party created the kind of partial vacuum his ideas easily seeped into.

November 4, 2025, less than four months from now, will be a consequential day not just for New York politics but for the entire country. New York, clearly a major component, if not the center, of world capitalism can possibly be where the ripple effects will begin and spread throughout the world. That's probably hyperbole in the short term. However, twenty five years will be a long time if Mamdanization is allowed to take hold.  Remember, Marxism started locally too and today it is not exactly dead.

Karl Marx and to a certain extent with the help of Frederic Engels in the mid-1800's started the economic and political theory that became the backbone of the Bolshevik revolution.  That potentially is what could befall New York City.

What New Yorkers need to be mindful of is that 90 miles from the coastline of Florida is a Caribbean country that apparently time forgot, stuck to the 1950's era. By today's standards relative to Florida, Cuba is full of anachronisms.  There we find 1955 Chevy Bel Air sedans still running as private transportation instead of in a car museum or as a collector's prized possession in the U.S.  That's what communist socialism did and continue to do in a country known as the last place to subscribe to the original theory that Karl Marx insisted on.

And that is what Mamdanization will do to New York.

To the international readers, from Argentina and Brazil to Uruguay and Uzbekistan and Vietnam, I beg you all to make note of this. There are a few readers in Russia but I notice Austria and Germany have taken interest as well though not a single one from China.  I urge everyone to remember that the great experiment that began in 1776 is still going on.  Mamdanization will undo what great results that experiment had achieved for countless dreams to be fulfilled - a propellant that had long been used to push people to come to this land. 

Ronald Reagan said it best:

 

Occam's Razor Revisited for 2025

From the JFK assassination to the most recent Epstein case, from UFOs to  Big Foot and to the Bermuda Triangle, and last year's attempted assassination of Pres. Trump conspiracy theories continue to thrive from generation to generation of believers and skeptics; from the sublime academics to armchair speculators, from serious to the un-serious contributors to social media, from named to nameless influencers.

"William of Occam (or Ockham) was an English Friar born in 1285 who lived to his 62nd birthday". Occam’s Razor was named after him but he was not really the originator of the principle; however, he was known to frequently use it in his writings and arguments as a tool to get to the truth if it were obscured by the absence of physical evidence or reliable testimony". In a nutshell, it is summarized as follows:

"Occam’s Razor is a philosophical principle that says that in situations where there are competing explanations, we should prefer the simplest explanation since it’s most likely to be the correct one".

In other words, when one looks for an explanation from among several plausible alternatives, the simplest one is likely the correct one.  However, even when an explanation seems complicated, it could and should still  be expressed as simply as possible for everyone to understand it. 

There is a caveat to that expression. 

In ancient times, in Greek mythology, a lot of natural phenomena such as lightning and thunder were explained as heavenly manifestations of the power of the gods - primarily by the head god, Zeus - to express anger with or warning to ordinary mortals.  Now we know, or at least known to many, what is behind thunder and lightning.  Explaining how it happens in scientific terms, however can be complicated, distilling it in layman's terms is even more challenging without having to go through the fundamental nature of electrons and ionization, how electric fields are built up between the ground and the upper atmosphere, and so on and on.  Suffice it to say that thunder and lightning occur naturally without some god or gods causing them; albeit, one example where Occam's razor is needed to shave off more than several layers before unraveling the truth.

Superstitions are one of the main casualties to the sharp razor of Occam. A while back I wrote about scary witches recalled from my childhood memories, below is one snippet:

Scary Witches, Recast (November, 2024 in time for Halloween)

The "mantiw" was one that no one had ever seen but they were around when it was windy. During the night, of course.  They have long legs because everyone can hear them running over the homes, but not touching any of the structures; but they'd come by so fast  disturbing the air to rush out and back, accompanied by a whistling, sometimes roaring, sound. There could be a herd of these "mantiw" running, especially when it was raining, as if they were either fleeing from or going after something.  But nobody could see them and they were not known to harm anyone.

The home where I grew up as a child was a nipa-thatched-roof in a village near the shores.  The elders would talk about those long legged "mantiw" during the monsoon seasons but later, as a grown up, I realized the "mantiw" running through the village was simply the strong winds that accompanied the rain and the whistling we heard was merely the sound of the wind over our flimsy homes.

Of course, I grew up later realizing that a lot of the childhood superstitions that I and my friends believed in were easily explained as natural phenomena and our imaginations were merely co-conspirators until then.

William of Occam and many philosophers of his time lived about three centuries before the Age of Enlightenment when the likes of Isaac Newton and many notable scientists began their work on the sciences and modern philosophy. Meanwhile Friar William and his contemporaries depended mostly on logical reasoning to get to the truth if it were obscured by the absence of physical evidence or reliable testimony. One must use a razor to shave away the coverings that hid the truth. The razor was not that of experimentation but by pure logical reasoning. The idea was that there should only be a minimal amount of suppositions to explain anything - the lesser the number of suppositions the better. The simpler the explanation the more likely that it is the correct one.

Presently, we have the Epstein file or "client list". Its supposed existence was either oversold that resulted in bated anticipation from the public, politicians and conspiracy theorists  or there was no such file to begin with. However, once anyone and everyone comes up with all kinds of assumptions, conjectures and speculation, as usually presented in cases of conspiracy theories, the less likely it will lead to the truth.  But in this case, it appears that either there was such a file or it was over promised by the Attorney General, or there was no such file to begin with. If there  was some file, it was not what was originally expected. 

Is this a case of Occam's razor's failure?  Actually, this is, first of all, an interesting case where the "truth is obscured by the absence of physical evidence or reliable testimony" that is either intentionally kept away from the public or that there was no such evidence in the first place.  Let's set that aside for now. 

One rather more interesting story that has now been overshadowed by the file is the speculation as to whether Epstein killed himself or he was murdered in his cell while being held in a New York jail. Clearly, speculations started to swirl from there which pushed the existence of the file aside. Conspiracy theorists had a field day that lasted for months up to now, nearly six years later.  

If we go by Occam's Razor, in the midst of all kinds of conspiracy theories - many of them had the complexity of a Robert Ludlum novel - the simple explanation is that he killed himself. In the case of the file or more intriguingly described as the "client list", the simple explanation is that there was no such list. 

If the list existed, is it not likely there was a copy somewhere or held by someone else, i.e. by Epstein's most loyal partner,  Ghislaine Maxwell? The Attorney General took a serious risk in saying that there was no such list if later such a list shows up. At this point, the beginning of another conspiracy theory is inevitably hatched.  As we can see, in the absence of compelling evidence or testimony (Epstein's or Maxwell's and potentially others), the simplest explanation prevails. For the time being, that is.

From the once popular TV series, The X-Files, we quote, "The truth is out there,” says Scully, before following up with “but so are lies”.

We are at this point in a state of unknowing. Is this then the case of Occam's razor's dulling failure? Possibly, until such time, if at all, that compelling evidence is brought up at some future time. In such a case, Occam's Razor is no longer needed.

 

A Few Things to Ask Charles Darwin

 

A young lion, with its belly full of forty pounds of wildebeest meat, was dozing off under a shade tree when a male hyena approached. The Crocuta, Crocuta, a species also known as the laughing hyena, was the first to speak.

"Whoa, take it easy", as the lion made a soft warning growl. The hyena, who was relaxed in his voice and demeanor so as not to alarm the lion, said, "Look, I know your belly is full and so is mine. I'm no threat to you and clearly you're not threatened by me and I'm not your preferred meal. By the way, thanks for the leftovers.  There's plenty more left of the poor wildebeest.  Listen, there's just you and me here for miles around, why don't we chat for just a bit.

"Not now.  I need to nap", the lion responded. Nap the lion was not able to do, as evidenced by the full transcript of the recording from a hidden camera left by a naturalist the day before, who knew that the shade of the big Acacia tree  is a frequent site for wild animals to take refuge from  the oppressive noon day sun of the Serengeti, the northern part of Tanzania. 

From the transcript:

Hyena: Oh, come on. There's just you and me here. All the other creatures are doing the same thing we are doing. Staying in the shade.  Even the vultures are not around.  The thermals are keeping them way up high and I am almost certain they have not picked up the scent of the carcass, at least not yet.  If we're lucky it will still be there tomorrow with plenty more meat for you and me. So, a little conversation, is that too much to ask?

Lion: Indigestion is what I'll get, talking to you.

Hyena: Let's quit the talking to part.  Why don't we talk with each other, instead, okay?

Lion: My pride will be here soon. You are dead meat if you hang around here.  Leave, if you know what's good for you.

Hyena:  Yeah, right.  I know as a young male, you've been banished by your pride.  Your mom and aunts drove you away, didn't they? You're now at least a hundred miles away from them, aren't you?  By the way, why is that the custom of your species?  You're a young muscular male, shouldn't the pride benefit from your protection?  You know, that's the first question I'd ask Charles Darwin.  If he were alive today although I don't think he knew as much as what the world gave him credit for.

Lion: You're such an ignorant dog. I had to leave the pride to prevent inbreeding.  That is why we are such a strong species, unlike perhaps your kind, isn't that right?  Ask Charles Darwin, ha!

Hyena: For your information, we are not dogs. Furthermore, we are more like your kind. Do you know we are separate from everyone else, but we are more cat-like than dog-like, but  in a more special way, if your condescending mind can understand that.

Lion: I used dog as a pejorative in the same way I view those pesky African wild dogs, you know that. My question to you is, why are you here by yourself and eating my leftovers? You can't hunt all by yourself, can you? So don't give me that cat-like thing.

Hyena:  Listen, we have so much to cover, okay.  Why don't we just talk while we're resting, okay?

Lion: It's a waste of my time. 

Hyena:  For someone who claims to be king of the jungle, top of the food chain, you're not much for conversation, are you?

Lion:  Look, I'm trying to be patient with you.  If my aunts and sisters were here, you're already dead.  But you know what, they won't even eat you. Just the thought of having you for a meal is revolting.

Hyena: Look, I'm being nice here.  Is that the best a king will do? Insults? Show me some respect, one predator to another, carnivore to carnivore.  Is that too much to ask?  Aren't you known for wisdom and strength?  I can't beat you one on one, but let's be civil to each other for once.  I could have gone the other way, avoided a confrontation, let alone share the same shade with you, but I chose to have a chat with you.

Lion: Okay, what do you want to ask Charles Darwin?

Hyena: Where do I start? What's with the vultures? Why don't they hunt and kill like you and me?  Why can't they be respectable predators like us? How did they  lose so much self respect?  They have strong beaks, menacing claws, wide wing span.  And an ugly head.  They should hunt, instead of waiting for some other hapless creature to die.

Lion: First of all, predator you are not. You are a scavenger.  Didn't you just eat my leftovers? Given a chance, you'd steal what the hapless cheetah spends all its energy to chase and kill, which also makes you a thief too.  You're no better than a vulture.  Darwin, again if he were alive today, will say, what kind of a question is that?

Hyena: Insults I can ignore, okay?  What I want to know is what prompted a winged creature with the ability to hover for long hours at a time, evolved to a diminished stature by resorting to scavenging?  And lose self respect, let alone the respect of other creatures?

Lion:  You keep referring to creatures.  In that case, do you then agree that there is a Creator?

Hyena: You turn this into a philosophical discussion? That is why  you're so smart.  Is that it?  

Lion: Philosophical discussion, you  say?  Do you even know what that means?

Hyena:  You are condescending again. Listen, I don't think there is a creator.  Darwin didn't seem to think so either.  Everything just seems to have come to be.

Lion: Come to be?  Interesting concept. Everything around you just came to be.

Hyena:  No, no! I mean we all came from simple animals a very long time ago, right?  Then we all took separate path to, one, to survive, then two, to adapt. Adapt to changing environments, availability of food, and so on and on.

Lion: And pushing everything further back in time to the very beginning, we all came from simple organisms, like single cell bacteria, blah, blah, is that it?

Hyena: Exactly.  You got it.  Then the simple life forms became a little bit more complex.

Lion: If that is what you believe, pushing even farther back in time, is it possible life could have come from non-living stuff, like, perhaps just water, dirt, some energy from whatever source that was available from the very beginning.  Maybe even some kind of chemical reactions?  In other words, life could possibly have come from nothing?

Hyena:  If you keep pushing back in time, sure.  Wait, wait. Let's not go that far. 

Lion:  No, no, we need to go as far back as we can.  You see, what scares you is this - not finding an answer to what was there before there was no dirt, no water, no heat, no chemical components to cause chemical reactions, and so on and on.  What was there before there was anything? Can you think of something?

Hyena: All I wanted was a conversation. Instead you just want to end it.  Must you pour cold water on everything?

Lion: I, ending it?  Continuing it is up to you. All I asked was for you to come up with, "what was there before there was anything?"

Hyena:  Aha! Now I got you.  How could there have been anything before there was anything?  Nothing!  There was nothing, then some things came to be.

Lion: So, something just came  spontaneously out of nowhere, right?  Stuff just came to be. Something out of nothing.  That's your position.

Hyena:  I just wanted to know why vultures behave the way they do, okay. That's how we started this conversation. I don't even want to know what they were before they became vultures.  Like, did they use to hunt, then one day they decided it was easier to just wait for others to die so they could eat?  I mean that doesn't make any sense.  Something pushed them, in order to survive, to become what they are.  In other words, why change into being a vulture unless they were driven to it  in order to survive.

Lion: I'll have you know that vultures are perfect for what they do. Do you know why for most species their necks and heads do not have feathers? They are bald, in other words. So when they dig into the crevices, like the inside of stomachs of the  carrion's carcass, there are no feathers for blood and tissue to cling to, where they could create safe harbor for bacteria, thus preventing  infection.  Their gut's digestive juices can eat through the toughest meat and bones even. Their eyesight is better than an eagle's and their sense of smell can detect dead animals for miles; from the air.  So, they are perfect for cleaning up the environment of dead animals and  decaying meat that is home to all kinds of germs that can harm other creatures that include you and me.  They may not earn your respect but they have a job to do.  What do you do, aside from mooching a meal which took me a lot of effort to take down?

Hyena: That's not where I wanted this conversation to go. Like I said that was the question, one of many actually, that I wanted to ask Darwin. If you were trying to do it in his stead, you're not doing a good job.

Lion:  Forget Darwin.  He died a long time ago.

Hyena:  I know that and you know it was just a hypothetical expression on my part. But I'm open to where you want this conversation to go. Or, you can get me to a place where all my questions can be answered with one  explanation.  Then I'll let you take your nap undisturbed.  Fair?

Lion:  All right. You asked about vultures.  You can ask the same way about me.  Or, even about you, as a species, and what your role is.  Here it is.  Whether you believe or not in the Creator, you must believe in this.  Each living thing around you, including those you hunt, if you insist you're a predator, not a scavenger, has a role in the environment.

Hyena: Please.  You know, I, together with my family of hyenas  hunt.  But when opportunities arise, yes, we will scavenge.  Okay?

Lion: Let's then say, you are an opportunist.  Good?

Hyena:  Just go on, please.

Lion: No interruptions, okay?  Where was I?  When you were conceived in your mother's womb, you started just slightly larger than a pinhead. Then you became an embryo.  By the time of your birth you looked not a tad uglier than you are now but a hyena nevertheless and not any other creature.  In other words all the information that made you you was all inside that pinhead. Have you ever wondered how that is.  Unless something, like a blueprint, was already in place to make you. Imagine, that information, for example, determines whether you will be a male or female, what spots you will have, how heavy you will become, and so on and on.  Unfortunately, it was not in the blueprint that you could possibly look more pleasing.  To other creatures, I mean.  I'm sure your mom thought you were the apple of her eye.  There were probably four or five of you, so she had a bushel of apples.

Hyena: Your insults were pretty funny, I thought. As a laughing hyena, I will re-tell that to my clan, or I guess we are called a cackle, as a family of us. That's good material if I were a standup comic.  So, listen, your point is that someone or something is responsible for creating what you call the blueprint.  Is it possible your creator, like an artist, could have been making changes to the drawing every now and then over thousands or millions of years?

Lion: Except that artists who tend to improve their drawings or paintings over time  must make changes toward beauty or pleasant looks, right? But, in your case, what happened?

Hyena: There you go with the insults. Good comedy material though, but I will have you know, I am hurt.  But I am a laughing hyena, so I'll take it. No more questions from me.  Go ahead, take your nap.

Lion:  I was just teasing you, ok?  Besides, there's just you and me here. Truce?

Hyena:  Yeah. I will take your creator thing and discuss that with my cackle.

P.S. 

It was my intention for the readers to fill in "between the lines" according to each one's philosophical or religious background. There are readers among you from  countries from Argentina and Brazil to Tunisia and Vietnam and twenty or so others in between so I leave it to each of you to interpret them from your perspective or persuasion.

I went to a university back in the Philippines that was founded by an American Presbyterian missionary, Horace B. Silliman.

It started in 1901 as a small Christian elementary school, then became an institute  and later accredited a full university status decades later, where the college of engineering became one of several departments. Although I enrolled in engineering, English 101 and 102, and Spanish 101 and 102 were required for graduation. I had to take them during the first two years along with math and physics, including Philosophy 101 (Christian Ethics) and Philosophy 102 (Logic).  We had to walk to the Liberal Arts Dept. to take those classes. We did not become truly engineering students until the third year (of a 5-year course) when all our classes were in the college of engineering entirely. 

I had to go through all that detail because in English 102, our professor required us late in the semester to write an essay about any subject that came to mind except math and physics.  By the way, instructions and tests were in English and papers we submitted were in English as well.

My essay was on the theory of evolution.  I had to do research on it independently. A secular subject that it was and the Christian university and Biblical environment settings notwithstanding, I got an A- for it.  However, since that essay, I had changed my attitudes and persuasion towards the theory of evolution about  four times over the years.  

That is what I meant about "between the lines" in this musing and from the context of how the reader may understand the theory of evolution as time went on from the famous Scopes trial in Dayton, Tennessee, July 10-21, 1925, that to this day is still being debated. This year, to the week, is the 100th anniversary of that trial.  It was also labeled the "Monkey Trial" when "high-school teacher, John T. Scopes, was charged with violating state law by teaching Charles Darwin’s theory of evolution".

It was dramatized in several TV drama and movie versions since then, which made famous the names of attorneys William Jennings Bryan  for the prosecution and Clarence Darrow for the defense.

P.PS.

(Below, present day photo of the main entrance of the university and its seal that says, Via, Veritas, Vita.  The Acacia trees in the background were not that tall during my time there in the 60s)

 

 

  

 

Bad Dreams

In his dreams he has no name.  People in his dreams have no names either. It was only later that he had names for them. He would hear people talking, one at a time, coming from downstairs. Except, their home has no downstairs.  It is a single level home.  There is a basement but the door leading to it is always shut and, besides, it is too far away from their bedroom for voices from there to  even be intelligibly discernible.

He kept having the same dreams. He would talk in his sleep, which often wakes  his wife up. He went to a therapist who recommended that he keep a voice recorder at the night table that will be activated during his REM (Rapid Eye Movement) sleep for a few nights. He was instructed to tape the two sensors at each of his temples close to his eyes. It will detect REM and it will record his speech. So, for the next few nights he slept in the spare bedroom so as not to disturb his wife.

He started having bad dreams when pressure from work, the physical stress of long commutes, the unusual toll of a marriage going on its third year, no children but the prospect of having one or more, seems to have all conspired to bear down on him all at the same time.  But, he didn't feel overwhelmed  or stressed to the point that it was affecting his job.

After three nights worth of recordings he brought the tapes to his therapist who told him to come back in a few days after the tapes were transcribed. 

The therapist had the recordings transcribed for each night's session. On his next visit  the therapist gave him the transcribed copies on a thumb drive. The voices in the recording, he was told, varied with  different individuals talking.  The therapist told him to label the speakers however he wanted them labeled, or named.  That is how he later had names for them who individually kept repeating the same things over and over. After a time of listening along with the transcribed pages he had no difficulty  identifying who was speaking.

From the transcript he identified each speaker and he wrote down labels/names after each set of voices.

"Why do I have this kind of career? What is this I'm doing?  This is not what I expected to work on after college.  This can't be my lifetime career, is it? Why did I get married?  Why?"    (He wrote - 'Regret' for a name for the speaker whom he swears does not resemble his voice)

"I am not to blame.  This was not my fault?  Why does everybody think this is my fault.  I didn't do this, no!"    ('Blameless')

"I am not going to be a fitness freak ever again.  After a hard day's work, why bother going to the gym.  Who needs it?  I get worked up at work, it is getting harder everyday just to get up every morning.  No more workouts.  So what if I can't run on the treadmill for one minute.  No more gym!     ('Neglect'?, Not  sure)

"My boss? He just can't do anything wrong. Ivy league school paired with the smarts and ambition.  Oh, a wife from a well off family, palatial home in the suburbs, business he inherited from his wife's family, nice car, what else? Other than he's got everything?  Arrgh! ('Envy', me?, Nah)

"This is my life.  You call this living? Vacations in places within no more than  the 200 mile radius? All within the state, every trip by car? This is not the life I signed up for".   ('Bitter', who wouldn't be)

I can't be doing this.  I will no longer do this.  I give up.  Please give me a break, no, I won't"  ('Resigned', to the idea that this is my life).

"What can I do?  I need this job. But I don't need an aggravated life. My marriage suffers from that.  My wife says she understands, but I don't know.  How can she?"  ('Confused',  I don't know).

Afterwards, he collated the transcripts with his notations and emailed them to his therapist.  Later in the week he called the therapist. 

"Well, doc, what do you suggest?"

"This is actually new to me, to be frank with you. I am going to send a few emails to some of my colleagues. I'd like to see what they think."

"You mean this is not in the textbooks?"

"No".

The doctor continued, "Let's see what my colleagues say. I really don't know how to proceed with a treatment, if it is needed at all, We'll see".

He went home.  He told his wife how the last session went.  There was little his wife offered to comfort him or offer any kind of sympathy.  She did say, she wasn't worried or concerned.  None of their friends know.  She hasn't told her parents. His parents live out of state and he has no siblings. He did tell his best friend, who shrugged it off as coming from the usual stresses at work.  "Don't worry about it",  his friend said.

For several weeks following his last therapy session, the dreams stopped. He still had dreams but they were different from those he complained about. They were "normal" dreams, he told his wife. His therapist has not called so he didn't either.  He kept the recorder on. Nothing. Except for the usual "sleep sounds", there were no voices.  He no longer talked in his sleep. 

Then one night, he had one of those dreams again.  His wife woke him up. It was 4:00 a.m. He didn't go back to sleep.  He brewed some coffee. By daybreak, after breakfast, he showered, dressed and went to work.

At lunch he called his therapist.  

The doctor asked, "Was it the same group of voices or personalities talking?"

"No.  It was a new personality and perhaps a new voice if recorded on tape".

"You know one colleague suggested something. Actually, as we speak, the tapes were sent to a lab to determine the pattern via voice print analysis. New technology, as you might imagine, that I think might shed some light".

A week later his therapist explained what came out of the voice print analysis.  "Each of those voices talking in your dreams are really one person. You. You'd wonder but it is naturally not unexpected because, after all, it was your voice and yours alone that the recorder picked up. But we have to wonder why the voices have different nuanced ways of speaking, including accents and all manners of speech."

"But", he began his protest, "those voices are all from different people, I can tell.  Can't you tell?"

"Yes. I have patients who under hypnosis can speak with different voices - accents or manners of speech different from the patient and they all have different personalities. One patient may have anywhere from a handful of different personalities during hypnosis and a few patients may have as many as two or three dozen different ones.  They'd come out one at a time and would in some cases know of each other". 

"As weird as that might seem, not only is it real, though it is uncommon but not extraordinarily unnatural when viewed from a clinical point of view", the therapist continued. "You see, it seems that your subconscious manifesting itself in the dream is exhibiting multiple personalities as in an actual personality disorder that patients suffer from".  

"I know about split personalities  but are you telling me I am one of those?

"No, I am not saying that at all. You are a normally functioning person who is able to hold a job and go on about your life as normally as everyone else except for quite an unusual way of dreaming at night " .

"So, why am I having these dreams?"

"A layman's explanation is that your brain is acting up in your sleep."

"I don't even know what that means?"

They both sighed almost  simultaneously. "Let me ask you something.  Is your job performance at work affected?  How does your boss rate you as an employee?

"I'm glad you asked that.  I just had my review. My boss  told me I'm doing well at meeting my targets and he was recommending me for a higher grade when salary reviews come around". 

"Fantastic.  So, what are you so worried about? I think you need not spend any more of your money on coming over to see me."

"Not to worry, doc, the company insurance pays for it".

"Well, all right, so I'll recommend a visit with me once a month from now on.  Really, when all is said and done, it's just dreams.  If they do not get to the level of being nightmarish as to affect you and your job, and most of all your personal relationship, particularly that with your wife, then you have nothing to worry about".

"Doc, can I keep recording, at least for another week, maybe?'

"Now, the clinic will charge you for the transcription but, yes, keep the machine for even a month.  You can email me if there is anything you will be concerned about but if it's nothing earthshaking, you don't need to. Those are words of encouragement, mind you, not a way of dismissing you at all."

"Thanks, doc, I'll stay positive."

His wife protested about the recording and him using the spare bedroom again but she acquiesced when he promised it was going to be for just a week or so.

He eagerly checked the recordings after the first night when the dreams started again. There was nothing.  By the third day, the dreams came back on again.

As soon as he woke up the following morning, he checked the recorder right away.  It was one voice he has never heard before.

"Hi! I've been meaning to talk to you.  I know you've been listening to several people in the middle of the night. You will probably not believe this but I know too that you've been seeing a therapist.  Furthermore, I know you had  names for each of those who've been talking to you. Proof, you say? Envy, Bitter, Resigned, should I say more? I am your subconscious. All of those voices are part of me. We exist only in your dreams.  We are your safety valves, if you will, and we aim to help you. We stay away during your waking hours.  That way you are not aware of us to intrude into your conscious thoughts. How is that possible?  Do you recall way back when you actually had us in your waking consciousness and you prayed and meditated to free yourself of us.  Since then we, I who is talking to you now and the others, agreed to stay away during your conscious moments. But we are creatures of your brain. So, as an accommodation, your brain allows for us to exist only in your subconscious. You want proof that we mean well?   We leave it to you?  This much I will tell you.  We will intrude only sparingly from now on. But you are the best judge of that, do you understand?  Until then."

That was the end of the recording.  He sent the thumb drive of the recording later that day to his therapist.

It was one week later when the therapist called his home when he was not picking up on his cell phone.  His wife who picked up the phone told the therapist that her husband was at the gym and perhaps he didn't have his phone with him.  His wife asked the therapist what it was about, wondering why the doctor seemed concerned.

"Doc, you never call here at home. What's up?  There was a few seconds of silence, then the doctor spoke.

"Well, I probably needed to talk to you anyway but not until I've spoken to your husband".

"As his wife, don't you think I have a right to know about why you hesitated for a moment?  I know about patient/doctor privilege and all that but this is me, his wife".

"Okay. Your husband left a message on my voicemail after I had received the last transcript of his dreams.  The lab technician here suggested that perhaps we needed to compare your husband's voice he left on my voicemail with the voices in his dream.  I don't know if your husband mentioned this but we have this technology now that can analyze voice prints the same way finger prints can be identified."

"Yes, he did".

"Well, what we found is that your husband's voice on my voicemail is different from the voices that were on the recorded tapes during sleep.  You know what that means. We were wrong to tell him that it was him all along. I told him that even when accents and manner of speaking were different, it was him doing all the talking. Our voice technician is certain that it was from one person, it just wasn't your husband's, meaning the voice in my voicemail is not the same that was in his dreams".

"What does this all mean?", the wife asked.

"I hate to say this, but it means that the voices were contrived and the recordings are bogus, except the one he left on my voicemail.  This begs the question .."

Before the doctor could finish, the wife interrupted, "You said just moments ago you wanted to talk to me", then a momentary pause.

"Perhaps now is the time because I have a confession.  Do you have a moment?

"Now, I have. A full hour even and it won't cost you a dime. Really, I'm dying to hear what you have to say".

"Several months ago I noticed my husband was going through so much stress at work and here at home. I knew it was tearing him apart.  His attitude, his behavior, how he treated me, his attitude towards our relationship were so unbecoming of him at best and quite unconscionable  a number of times". 

I reached out to his best friend.  I know you're not going to like what I will talk about. You will think it is unethical, let alone downright crazy."

The therapist interrupted, "I will be the judge of that, go on, please." 

"His best friend proposed something that I knew was an absolute non-starter, had the circumstances been not so desperate on my part. But I agreed.  So, the fault is all mine".

"Wait, what did you two do?  I'm a psychiatrist, not a priest you know, so I do not deal with sin and forgiveness and all that.  It is about the mind that I deal with".

"Please, I thought you wanted to listen".  Before the therapist can protest she went on.

"His best friend suggested. And I agreed".

"No, stop, please".

Ignoring the therapist, she continued, "His friend told me that he has a friend who is an actor and who is very good at mimicking voices, accents and different manners of speech. He was going to ask him to record different things to say on tape.  It was crazy I thought at first but he convinced me. 

"What do you mean he convinced you?  With what?"

"I was desperate, remember what I just said moments ago? You heard the recordings, you read the transcripts. Those were all recorded by his friend".

"Why?"

"The last recording he sent you about the voice being his subconscious and all the voices talking about being this and that actually helped him.  He changed.  Did he tell you about his last performance review by his boss?  

"Yes!"  The therapist was excited. 

"Well, he got a promotion yesterday. He had been doing so great.  His friends, co-workers and particularly his boss noted the difference.  My husband's waking demeanor and zest for life and work, our relationship together have benefited from the dreams".

"How long have you been doing this?  How did you do it?

"I tell you doc, it was all worth it.  Took a lot to pull it off.  His best friend, thanks to him and his tech savvy, did all the recording, splicing and the tutorial he so patiently made me go through in getting the tapes to come on at specified times, but actually the recording machine you provided that had the attachments to his temple and all the REM stuff made it a lot easier to pull off".

She went on to explain about how they rigged the spare bedroom and all the activation mechanisms that worked so smoothly her husband had no clue what was going on.

"So there I confessed, doc.  You can tell him if you want. He'll be home in about half an hour".

"Who else knows about this, besides you and his best friend and the actor"?

"Actually, just me and his best friend. The actor thought he was recording for a party, some skit as a gag or prank. But he doesn't know.  So, now what do you want me to do?  Are you going to report this"?

"I have two things to say. What you did is irresponsible. The therapist paused.

"You said, you had two things to say".

"As reprehensible as it is, you and your husband's best friend did something incredibly stupid, unethical, so far out of the box, so to speak, but it worked.  Having said that, I will have to ask you to do two things.  Keep quiet, forever keep your mouth shut and forget the whole thing.  I wish you well but I don't want to hear anymore from you or your husband. Don't tell him about this call but don't worry I too will not say anything. If he calls me I will refer him to go somewhere else. Is that understood?"

"Yes".  

Epilog:

Some stories, every now and then, as is the case with this one are not what it all seems to be.  So far, what the reader has read is from the same perspective as the therapist.

The real story is that there was no best friend or actor.  It was all a subterfuge, a machination, if you will, created by the husband and wife. For what purpose?

Ten years ago two medical students - Armand and Zelda - before graduation had collaborated on a paper they planned to publish once they have established their career in psychiatry. Shortly before graduation and just months before starting their residency at the same hospital they were a couple in the eyes of their friends and classmates. Then tragedy struck.

The couple went kayaking that included shooting the rapids in Arkansas. Zelda's kayak got swept really hard on a bend. She hit her head against a rock and became unconscious in her capsized kayak and it took a couple of minutes before help got to her by a couple who were resting at the edge of the stream. It was not Armand who made the effort even though it was him in his own kayak just behind Zelda's.

She was in a coma for a couple of days. A fractured shoulder and a hip injury were the least of her problems. A brain injury and a lengthy rehab kept her out of graduation.   

Armand went on with his life, completely abandoning Zelda, finished his residency and later became a psychiatrist.  

Three years into his practice he published a paper in JAMA (Journal of the American Medical Association).  The paper was titled, "Dream Analysis in the 21st Century".  The sub-title was, "Post-Freudian and Jungian Methods of Dream Analysis".  Not mentioning it as a collaborative effort, solely claiming it as his research conducted among college student-volunteers that he and Zelda did together for much of their senior year, Armand took full credit.  He was amply rewarded with recognition and awards from his colleagues and senior psychiatrists in the field of analysis.

Meanwhile, Zelda took a year to recover physically and mentally.  She did not make it as a psychiatrist. Instead she made it as a staff psychologist at a children's clinic for the impaired and mentally deficient youths.  She made several attempts to reach out to Armand over the years. Armand not only ignored her, he treated her, even in the eyes of his colleagues, as a spurned lover in college who was trying to share the limelight of his success.

Armand is the therapist of the husband with the weird dreams in the story earlier. Zelda is the sister of the husband.  The husband and wife, who will remain nameless, hatched the idea on behalf of Zelda, who has no knowledge at all of the plot.

The husband and wife laid a trap.  The bait was his bad dreams and the story his wife told Armand.  

Seven months later the husband came home with exciting news. He showed his wife a copy of the latest issue of JAMA.

Husband: "He took the bait.  Armand, the scoundrel published last month a preliminary finding of his latest research on dream analysis.  He had just applied for funding to expand his research on a new psychiatric theory.  The title of his paper, "Applied Induction of Dreams to Relieve Stress". He went on to explain in the paper that he had developed a series of contrived recordings to help patients suffering from stress and other modern day stress related ailments by inducing the dreams into the patient's REM period during sleep to relieve stress during their normal waking hours". 

Wife: He did take the bait, didn't he.  He just cannot resist, can he?  What are we going to do next?

Husband: Let's allow him a few more weeks or months to relish the accolades.  Apparently, the psychiatry world is buying it. Let's have the fish take more slack on the  line. 

Approximately a year after the husband's first visit with the therapist Armand, transcripts of the dream recordings, the taped conversation between Armand and the wife, exposing the fraud of Armand's paper were sent to the editor of JAMA anonymously.

Within days the exposure collapsed Armand's world which imploded like a defectively constructed building during an earthquake.

P.S.  This is not meant to disparage in any way the value of psychiatry nor to diminish its role in mental health.  It is a work of fiction by an Idle Mind who has been kept away from the workshop due to the unbearably oppressive Texas summer heat. This is just a way to keep the mind busy while woodworking projects remain in the waiting list or when the part I've been waiting for arrives.

It is the part of me that wants to resume work at the woodshop where saw dusts will start flying again off the table saw or the router table.  It will be a long wait so I might as well channel the mental energy to something like this.