December 2014 – Thoughts Towards a Better World

#976 – Anne Dunn: Arresting the Alphabet

December 31, 2014/0 Comments/in Anne M. Dunn /by dickbernard

PRE-NOTE: Anne is a frequent and welcome visitor to this space. For others from Anne Dunn, please note her category at right.
It happened not so long ago at the castle in the kingdom of Nosidam that peasants gathered to protest the banning of drums from public ceremonies in the civil commons.
Naturally everyone brought a drum and some of the protestors held up large signs upon which were painted tall bold black letters. Assembled together the letters spelled: LIBERATE THE DRUM.
Quickly troopers stormed in and arrested RILE.
What remained was BEAT THE DRUM. And so they did.
After seven victorious minutes the crowd was satisfied that the drum had spoken and so, with shouts of triumph, they returned to their modest homes.
But when the ruler of Nosidam forbid the indigenous population to net fish for subsistence, the commons swelled with discord. Once more the drummers arrived and the protestors carried letters that read: WE FISH TO LIVE.
The first eight letters were assaulted and arrested. The remaining word quickly reversed itself into EVIL. This described the decree and defined the king.
Then the king went after the land, mineral rights and real estate. The brutal agents of the king forcibly removed many families from their homes.
Soon the commons filled with the homeless. Once again the drum called and signs arrived. The signs read: THIS LAND IS OUR HOME.
Twelve letters were immediately arrested and the remaining five quickly scrambled to spell SHAME.
But the king was not embarrassed for he was convinced that his will was the supreme law of the land. Therefore, no one had the right to question his decrees.
Recognizing the need for a healthy planet, the people gathered to protest the vicious rape of Mother Earth. The drummers came and the protestors arrived with their signs: SAVE OUR EARTH ISLAND.
Of course the troops were ready and soon had arrested H-A-V-O.
The remaining letters reassembled into TREASURE ISLAND.
More arrest were made and left TRUE SIN standing in the commons. When four more letters were arrested the new word became NUT and that described the king in a single syllable.
Then the king decided to make war against the wolf and a howl of outrage filled the commons. The drummers and sign painters were ready. The sign read: JUSTICE FOR BROTHER WOLF.
In a heartbeat JUSTICE was swept away. More arrests were made until only FOOL OR FOE remained. These were the perfect nouns to describe the tyrant on the throne.
Then by royal decree the populace was denied jobs with decent pay and reasonable benefits. The commons filled again. Signs were quickly painted to read: WAGE EARNERS NOT SLAVES.
SLAVES was immediately arrested. Then troopers swarmed the signs and began removing letters until only RAGE was left.
Then it was that teachers came under attack and the education system was left in shreds. People crossed the borders into Nosidam to stand with teachers and other school staff.
Signs were prepared that read: CHILDREN ARE OUR FUTURE.
O-R-U were roughly pulled out of line. Then the letters CULTURE stepped forward to be arrested with R-E. Only HIDE and FEAR were left standing in the commons encircled by the hungry minds of
a future generation.
The king had successively hijacked the civil rights of the people so he decided that law enforcement was no longer worthy of his support. They were dismissed without ceremony or the bonuses promised for their part in the king’s misconduct. The troops were frightened. They feared retaliation. For they had been excessively abusive when they enjoyed the favor of the king.
However, the general population welcomed the former law enforcement officers and took them to the commons to address the betrayal of the treacherous king.
The drummers were there and signs were quickly prepared that read: END THE ABUSE OF POWER.
No one was there to arrest the alphabet that day. So the castle of Nosidam was stormed. But the king escaped the wrath and judgment he deserved and was never seen again.

#975 – Dick Bernard: Four Popes and Fourteen Presidents*

December 28, 2014/0 Comments/in International Relations, Politics /by dickbernard

Those who visit the content of this page frequently come to realize that two of my interests are my Church, the Roman Catholic, and politics as practiced in our American society.
So it would come as no surprise that on Christmas Day I was at Basilica of St. Mary for 9:30 Mass.
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Basilica of St. Mary, Minneapolis Dec. 25, 2014. Homilist Abp John Nienstedt.

This Church of mine is an endless source of curiosity (and other emotions) to many, whether Catholic or not.
Saturday morning, a regular men’s Bible study bunch was at my coffee shop. I’m not sure what denomination they are, but they would seem to come from what I’ve called “Evangelical Protestant”, definitely not Catholic. One proceeded to read from the Dec. 22 message of Pope Francis to the Roman Curia in Rome, and an interesting discussion ensued; more fascination than anything else: this Pope was shaking things up in Rome.
Like for the vast majority of Catholics, the official Church has always been a rather mysterious entity to me, over there in Rome, or even locally, in the Bishops residence, out of sight, hardly in mind except when it makes the news. Most likely I never would have paid attention to the links above cited, were it not for the casual conversation among Protestants the next table over!
But we all “feel the breeze” when something happens over there, and mostly it happens when the Pope says something and releases it for public consumption. What is obvious to the ordinary Catholic is that Pope Francis is shaking things up in Rome, and, thus, in the Catholic Church.
The Catholic Church – my Church – is an immense institution. Usually, it is said that about 1,000,000,000 people say they’re “Catholic” among the world’s total population of seven billion. As used to be said of England, “the sun never sets” on a Catholic, somewhere.
But we aren’t all alike.
Neither are the Popes. The Church is no electoral Democracy – maybe we’re governed a bit like Communist China! – but it is not at all so simple. Run of the mill “Catholics” enter and leave, as they wish. The Catholic Church is an institution of free people. In a sense, it is rigid, but at the same time it is elastic. It has to be appreciative of differences, to survive at all.
The Popes are elected by the College of Cardinals, and for whatever reason in March of 2013, they elected a Jesuit from Argentina who chose the name Francis, in honor of St. Francis of Assisi.
Recently I was at a Retreat where a retired Catholic Bishop used one of his talks to describe the three most recent Popes: John Paul II, Benedict XVI and Francis. One or other of these three have been Pope since 1978; all powerful personalities. Each were very different men, with their own gifts. The Archbishop described all of them in a complimentary way. Talented people. (The only one I ever saw, up close, was John Paul II in St. Peter’s Square in 1998. By then, his health was already very frail. He was in the Popemobile.)
The present Pope, Francis, was described as the first Pope to have been ordained post- Vatican II, the watershed renewal of the Church set in motion by Pope John XXIII in 1962. He’s also the first Pope from the Western Hemisphere; the first from what is called the Global South.
John XXIII, 1958-65 “shook things up”, too, of course. (There have been two other Popes between 1958 and today. Can you name them without looking them up? Not all Popes become household names.)
It matters a great deal who those Cardinals elect to represent the Catholic Church as Pope. They know their candidates.
When they, surprisingly, picked Francis, they were, in my opinion, picking someone to set the “tone” of the Catholic conversation going forward, and in a sense, I’d say, they affirmed the work of Vatican II and Pope John XXIII.
Already in his first year, Pope Francis has shown a willingness to stir things up, and in so doing he has set a very good example.
People like myself are encouraged.
* – U.S. Presidents, like Popes, also set a tone for the national and international conversation. We elect our Presidents, and in so doing, we decide what tone will be set for our country during the term. Since 1958, there have been six Popes and fourteen Presidents. Relationships matter between these leaders, as they do with all of us. Most recently, of course, came news of the rapprochement between U.S. and Cuba, the Vatican being helpful in facilitating the conversation leading to the re-beginning of a relationship severed 54 years ago.

Nativity scene weaving at Basilica of St. Mary Pulpit, Dec. 25, 2014

PERSONAL OPINION ABOUT THE FOUR POPES:
The serious looking Pius XII, was pontiff during my entre lifetime through high school. As a youth, he was simply a somewhat dour face you’d see at the back of the church.
John XXIII become Pope when I was a Freshman in College (1958). Before college (and Vatican II), “ecumenism” was a largely unspoken term in our small towns. Catholics and Lutherans and whomever were their own islands, relationships often hostile. In college, an inter-religious council was made official, and ecumenism began in earnest in our small town.
John Paul II came along in 1978, after the very short Pontificate of his immediate predecessor, John Paul I, and earlier Paul VI, neither of particular note. JPII was a charismatic leader in his early years, especially to youth. The future Pope grew up 20 miles from Auschwitz-Birkenau Poland, and World War II, and post-war Communism, had huge impacts on him (in my opinion).
Benedict XVI is often described as one of the modern Church’s strongest intellects. To me he always came across as rigid and authoritarian; a Rome insider. His background was growing up German during the Nazi times and unquestionably he was in a profound sense shaped by those horrible times.
Francis is making his own way, with great distinction, in my opinion.

#974 – Fran's Thoughts from a Northern Lake

December 25, 2014/0 Comments/in Quietings /by dickbernard

PRE-NOTE: Today is the 100th anniversary of the Christmas Truce of 1914, an expected yet celebrated temporary lull in the horrors of World War I. Madeline sent along a link to a song celebrating that interlude of peace in a time of war: Christmas in the Trenches, by John McCutcheon. It may take a while to access it – it will be viewed tens of thousands of times today. Just be patient.
All best wishes to you and yours at Christmas, 2014.
Christmas letters seem to be slowly going out of favor, which is sad. Everybody has their own style; each one brings their own unique surprise.
A favorite Christmas letter of mine, for many years, annually arrives from Fran, a retired Iron Range elementary school teacher (Grand Rapids) who I’ve known since the 1980s.
As with many correspondents, I hear from Fran once a year, as she hears once a year from me.
Every Christmas letter Fran writes, to family and friends, brings vividly to life something about the natural world she loves, around her lake, part of the northernmost reaches of the Mississippi River. Most years comes a glimpse of her extended world: this past year, a visit to Easter Island; in just a few more days, a month on her beloved Maui.
Here, reprinted with her permission, is her most recent letter, sent Dec. 15 (simply click to enlarge text).
Fran:

Fran Strommer Dec. 2014

Letter continues:

Fran letter continues

Fran’s letter concludes:

Fran letter concludes

We all have particular gifts. One of Fran’s, honed over many years, is the gift of describing her environment in words.
Thanks, Fran, and to all the rest of us, have a great Christmas and New Year.
POST-NOTE: This post reminded me of a long ago writing by teacher June Johnson. June taught in the same school district as Fran, in a northernmost school at Bigfork MN. In 1985, editing a newsletter for teachers, she wrote about a 1940s era school memory in rural North Dakota. Here it is. It speaks eloquently for itself.

#973 – Dick Bernard: "We Wish you a Merry Christmas…."

December 23, 2014/0 Comments/in Community, Quietings /by dickbernard

I’m a predictable creature: at the coffeehouse I frequent most every day, I have a fair number of good friends, but we understand each other. Sometimes we have animated conversations, sometimes I’m just back in my corner, writing letters, thinking about this and that, watching the early morning world go by.
Sometimes nearby events catch my attention, as this morning.
A younger woman was across the room, and presently an older man, looking pretty serious, joined her, and they engaged in quite a long conversation, if one could call it that.
It was obvious that this was not a “have a Merry Christmas” catch-up I was witnessing.
The way the conversation was going, it seemed pretty apparent that this was a Dad talking to a daughter, who appeared to be post high school age, and there had been serious problems. Probably there was, at some point, one of those “you can go straight to hell” conversations which most of us of a certain age, if we’re honest, have experienced ourselves at some point(s) in our own lives. Maybe she stormed out, and said “I’ll never talk to you again”.
Who knows?
Living in relationship is never easy.
More than once the young woman – who was facing away from me – apparently asked why they didn’t try to get ahold of her. “We didn’t know how to reach you”, he said. Perhaps she didn’t want to be reached, then, but had forgotten that.
More than once there was an apparent demand made of the other woman involved in this conversation, maybe the Mom: “she wouldn’t do that”, the man said, about something apparently non-negotiable, at least at the moment.
Conversation over, the two people prepared to leave. Steps from the table, the man turned to give the woman a big and obvious heartfelt hug; the woman didn’t reciprocate at all – he hugged her unresponsive shoulder.
The narrative about Christmas and other similar occasions presumes “good tidings of great joy” or fun gatherings “over the river and through the woods”, but it doesn’t always work out that way.
From the most basic of relationships, to the largest and most complex – say people of an entire nation, or world – there are breakdowns and enmity.
Best we figure out how to do what that dis-connected couple were apparently trying to do this morning: attempting to find a face-saving way to resolve possibly old grievances and bitterness and resume at least some kind of civil connection.
I wish them well.
Merry Christmas.
COMMENT
from Shirley L: Interesting observations, Dick. I’ll bet each one of your readers could walk into a local Starbucks and witness a version of this scenario. Christmas is tough. Hearts and souls are pulled in so many directions – hopefully some of the joy of the season can become balm for the deepest hurts and be the catalyst for repair.
Wishing you a joyous Christmas!

#972 – Dick Bernard: The Dinner Party

December 20, 2014/0 Comments/in Community, History, International Relations, Peace & Justice, Quietings /by dickbernard

There are several comments to the Cuba post, including a photo montage I’ve linked at the beginning of the Cuba section. See the additions here.
(click to enlarge)

Prior Lake MN, Franciscan Retreat Center, Dec. 14, 2014

Thursday evening we were invited to a small dinner party at the home of our neighbor, Don. He lives across the street so the commute was short. He had invited two other friends, Arthur and Rose, who we had not met before. Of the five, we were the junior members. The oldest was 84; the youngest 70.
We’re all well into the age when reminiscing is a common thread. Don, retired from a long career from a railroad office job with the then-Great Northern, had once, in his younger years, been a guest at a dinner party hosted by Elizabeth Taylor at her home in Hollywood. He was native of what has long been called the “frogtown” neighborhood of St. Paul.
Arthur came from a farm family of five in central Minnesota. He grew up in a log cabin, literally, he said. He named a tiny town I’ve been through, and said their farm was 12 miles east. I thought – I may have said – that is really in the boonies!.
His German immigrant grandfather was a carpenter and would load his horse drawn wagon with tools, and leave for sometimes as much as two and a half months, working on building this or that somewhere in the general area. “Commuting” with horses is not easy!
All the home windows, he said, were truly home-made, none of the fancy stuff we now demand.
Rose, also from a farm family, grew up near a little town that is now a Minneapolis suburb, and worked in a factory there.
As for us, I’m a tiny town ND kid, child of school teachers; Cathy is a St. Paul east-sider whose family basically could be called a “3M family”, from the days when that corporation often became a persons career.
As one might expect, our conversation was interesting and animated and covered lots of ground. Arthur became a meatpacker across the river in South St. Paul, and when the plant closed in the late 1970s, had a fairly long career driving a Metro Transit bus, often in neighborhoods that he deemed not safe.
Our social get-together ended, and we all went home. “Merry Christmas” to all.
I checked e-mails and there were three of special note:
Good friends Ehtasham and Suhail, both writing from Pakistan, wrote about the tragic bombing that killed over 100 school children in Peshawar this week. “Killing school children for political agendas has no parallel in history. The whole nation is mourning”, one said. The other: “Though I am safe along with my family, yet the kids who have lost their lives are all mine; they are my family as well. The level of frustration is so high that the things are looking gloomy and rays of hope are looking faint. I am currently working with Plan International, which focuses on child rights and child protection, and we have initiated an internal debate on how can we ensure protection to the lives of kids in Pakistan.”
Another e-mail came from a great friend, Said, a Syrian PhD in England, fluent in French, who I’ve been fortunate to know for years. “It is much better to make friends than enemies & especially in this world of ours with vulnerable internet/communications & weapons that are readily available and devastating! I have been investigating WWI a lot since it is a sad anniversary of sorts – except for the Christmas truce [of 1914] which moves me every time I read about it – I also watched a very good French film about it. I suppose instead of the war to end all wars that was the peace to end all peace (1918-19). Well I wish you & yours a Merry Christmas & a peaceful 2015.”
Eight different people, eight different life scripts, stories, differing cultures, backgrounds, religions…but with so many common threads to share. We are one human family; the overwhelming vast majority of us good people*, each who can make a positive difference each and every day.
A hymn I like so profoundly says: “Let there be Peace on Earth, and let it begin with me.”
All Blessings at Christmas and 2015.
POSTNOTE
* – In mid-November, I attended a workshop by Paul K. Chappell, in which he cited research that found 98% of soldiers were averse to killing other people, even in battle. This left, of course, 2% who had no such scruples, called psychopaths. The research expanded to include civilians – our own U.S. population. The same results: 98% and 2%.
In other words, anywhere there are humans, of whatever race, or creed, or nationality, or country, 98% comprise the prevailing side of humanity.
There are a lot of people in the 2% of course, and they are everywhere, but the 98% overwhelmingly have it in their power to minimize the influence of the 2%.
I asked Mr. Chappell for a citation on the source of his data: “Roy L. Swank and Walter E. Marchand, “Combat Neuroses: Development of Combat Exhaustion,.” American Medical Association: Archives of Neurology and Psychiatry, 1946, 244”.

#971 – Dick Bernard: Experiencing History. Cuba, Iran, North Korea and other places.

December 18, 2014/0 Comments/in International Relations, Politics, Technology, War /by dickbernard

We are, I think, in a very significant time in international history. And it is a good time, but very scary for those who need enemies to be scared of, and dangerous because of a desire to maintain the historical status quo of enemies and war as a solution..
It is a good time to look at the pre-history (that which occurred before the recent history that we are directed towards.) There is a tendency to ignore bad decisions long before that lead to the present. For instance, WWI, the war to end all wars, had a lot to do with creating WWII….
President Obama continues to make very good calls on very complex international situations. Without doubt, he’ll be vilified for all of them, because he’s plowing new ground. As I said in the previous paragraph, it is a good time, for each of us, to start brushing up on history, the history we won’t easily find or hear about, since some things are considered by official dispensers of information to be best left unsaid….

Some snippets, from a bystander (I could easily make this post much, much longer):
1. Added Dec. 19, from reader John Noltner: “I thought I’d share a little of the Cuban beauty I found when I was there a couple years back.” You can view his montage here. John’s work, A Peace of My Mind, can be found here.
CUBA. I was in college when Fidel Castro took over Cuba (1959), and when President Eisenhower made Cuba an enemy state (1960).
Last night I looked at the college newspaper I edited then, and found the article on the front page about the “Afro-Cuban Review” which came to the college in summer 1961. I reread the article, and found the performers were from “Haiti, Jamaica and Trinidad” – apparently no Cubans….
Back in those days, of course, having black people in our town was very unusual, a novelty, one could honestly say. Cuba then and now was a black country. So, also, Haiti, Jamaica and Trinidad, though, unlike Cuba, they weren’t Communist.
Interesting.
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In 1962, in an Army barracks below Cheyenne Mountain in suburban Colorado Springs, I watched President Kennedy address the nation during the Cuban Missile Crisis (mid-October, 1962). Colorado, then and now, bristled with military installations and was in the bulls eye, so the Rocky Mountain News reminded us. It was a very nervous time for we young GIs, but it passed quickly.
Ultimately Presidents Kennedy and Khruschev decided there were better ways to deal with their relationship than pointing missiles at each other. We didn’t want Soviet missiles in our backyard much like, I suppose, the Russians are not keen on having NATO missiles in their backyard in Ukraine or such today.
And need I mention how it all started, with Teddy Roosevelt’s “charge up San Juan Hill” and the Spanish-American War which began in 1898, the pretext being the supposed bombing of the USS Maine in Havana harbor.
My Grandpa Bernard didn’t go to Cuba, then, but he did spend a year in the Philippines 1898-99, part of the Spanish-American War which gained for the U.S., Puerto Rico, Cuba and the Philippines, and created the largely ignored part of Cuban-American history we need to read for the first time, between 1898 and 1959….
2. NORTH KOREA. Last night Nora O’Donnell’s (CBS Evening News) voice went dead on-air while talking about the apparently connection between North Korea and the hacking of Sony Pictures and the cancellation of the movie “The Interview” scheduled for Christmas Day. It was a long and distinct enough breach so I wondered: was that brief time of dead-air not a coincidence….
There is lots of pre-history here, too.
A week or two ago I had lunch with an executive of a major corporation here, and was moved to ask a dumb question.
He was South Korean by birth and upbringing, much younger than the Korean War, and I asked him, because I didn’t know, how it was that North and South Korea came to be.
Easy.
Korea at the time of WWII was part of the Empire of Japan; many of the soldiers killed in places like China and the Pacific Theater were Korean conscripts, he said. As I mentioned at table, “cannon fodder?” Of course.
After the War the victors, split Korea into two: North and South. “The victors”, in this case, were what have been since 1945 and presently remain the five permanent members of the United Nations Security Council: Russia, China, U.S., France, United Kingdom. Not long thereafter came the Korean War, and the deadly military adventure there, including General McArthur’s being fired by Eisenhower for exceeding his authority, and over 60 years of history where we apparently have preferred having an enemy, than working towards resolution.
Check it out.
3. IRAN. History begins where political leaders want it to begin.
It is that way in all regimes, whether good guys or bad.
Our public history of Iran begins with the U.S. Embassy Hostage Crisis of 1979, which was very useful in bringing down President Carter in the 1980 election.
You have to look a bit further to find the back-story: the overthrow in 1953 of democratically elected Iranian President Mossadegh by covert organizing by the West, especially somebody by the name of Kermit Roosevelt, is mostly overlooked.
The objective: to protect western oil fields in Iran. The Shah of Iran was installed, and was hated by the people he governed. Near his end, he was hospitalized in the Mayo Clinic, in our own state. In effect, we welcomed the leader Iranians hated.
I somewhat haplessly crossed through an interesting demonstration by Iranians when President Carter came to Minneapolis in 1978 for a political event. Their heads were covered with grocery bags, and the demonstration was completely peaceful, but serious. This was before the hostage crisis a year later….
4. ETC.
In this post, I give no links. I didn’t even fact check the specific dates, since I lived some of them and have learned the others over the years.
Take some time to see where history began in these and other circumstances.
I applaud President Obama for his move towards normalizing relationships.
May it continue, regardless of the political hysteria it will excite.
COMMENTS:
from Jeff: Nora O’Donnell… wow, I saw that, Bridget mentioned it and I said “you must have touched the mute on the remote” (she did have it in her hand)… she said she didn’t. I never thought of that connection. And it’s odd as I/we seldom watch the network news at 5:30…
I think the Sony decision was amazing… now it is said to have come from N Korea…a commentator on CNN said expect to see the USA and international financial community cut off all financing for N Korea…apparently they did that several years ago and in 2 to 3 weeks they couldn’t pay the Generals…things changed quickly.
Cuba: good op/ed in the NYT saying basically the GOP is following old thinking per usual. Actually I suspect that except for the Florida crew and Menendez from NJ, and of course, Cruz, there are few against this. The GOP in the new Congress might try to scuttle it but its insipidly stupid. Has been for years… the logic of having on going relations with Russia, Japan, Vietnam, Germany, Venezuela, etc. after and during times of enmity is so overwhelming its beyond speaking. We bankrupted a country and people. The moneyed criollo class who came here post-Castro have called the shots for years and the yokels have eaten it up.
Personally I think the change has a lot to do with the current Russian situation…I think the handwriting is on the wall for Cuba… Russia is heading toward a complete economic meltdown and that is not good for Cuba.
Korea: I don’t know the history of the conscripts of Japan… of course I know the history of the “comfort women” and the general historical enmity between Korea and Japan. My guess is Korean conscripts largely died in China during the war.
Philippines: the war there has been mentioned several times as a complete precursor to our Iraq expedition. Imperialism based on ignorance and blithely turning a population into an enemy.
From SAK: Many thanks for drawing attention to #971 – I agree it is much better to make friends than enemies & especially in this world of ours with vulnerable internet/communications & weapons that are readily available and devastating!
I have been investigating WWI a lot since it is a sad anniversary of sorts – except for the Christmas truce [1914, 100th anniversary this year] which moves me every time I read about it – I also watched a very good French film about it. I suppose instead of the war to end all wars that was the peace to end all peace (1918-19).
As for Mossadegh & other oily business a French/German channel recently broadcast a couple of episodes:
“La face caché du petrole”
1. dividing the world here; and
2. manipulations, here.
from David: Thank you for your peaceable perspective.
President Truman canned Dug Out Doug-ie. That is what my Chief Petty Officer called the fade away soldier. A member of our Chapter 154 (Vets for Peace Fargo-Moorhead) has an anti-war brochure on the Philippines. Horrendous anti-terrorist and insurrectionist atrocities there. I call us the run-to-the-gun Nation.
Blessings on all — animal mineral vegetable.
from Flo: Yesterday, when I heard President Obama on MPR telling us of his executive orders to make the changes he could in our relations with Cuba, I cried for joy! Then I pulled out our photo album with pictures and memorabilia of our 2012 Lexington Institute educational tour to Cuba with about 30 returned Peace Corps Volunteers. Yes, the government of Cuba must make changes, too, but the Cuban people certainly don’t deserve the sanctions and the embargo imposed by our own government. Neither do we, who declare ourselves FREE. The instructions we received on what we could and couldn’t purchase and bring back with us to the USA and what we could and couldn’t do required a full page of small print!
My fervent parting hope for Cuba was that the American embargo be lifted and the curtain separating our countries be shredded. Thank you, President Obama, for giving my hope wings!
***
More from Dick:
An amusing footnote: Back in the 1990s I was having a conversation with a valued relative, my Dad’s cousin, who was a retired bank president in a major Minnesota town, an executive type who had been President of the Minnesota Bankers Association, and before that rose briefly to Colonel in the WWII Army in the Pacific, right at the end of the War.
Somehow or other we got to talking about Castro and Cuba.
“You know”, Marvin said, “back in 1959 I made a $5 bet with a friend that Castro wouldn’t last six months. Guess I got that one wrong.”
A not so amusing footnote: Our complete dependence on the cyber-world (internet) is perhaps our major vulnerability as a country. Imagine your world, today, without computers. In my opinion, it is unimaginable.
The only fail-safe I see is that the world is now so tied together – so interdependent – that an attempt to destroy one countries capabilities would be as destructive to the enemy as to the target. The internet is, in a sense, even more our mad, mad world, than the insane nuclear arsenal we still find a need to have.
An awful footnote: In this same fortnight came the intersection of two events: the terrible tragedy of the bombing of the school in Pakistan, with more than 100 dead; and the grotesque defense of torture back in the good old days by Dick Cheney and company, and the quiet acquiescence of a distressingly high percentage of Americans to that practice of torture.
In this age of misinformation, disinformation, false flags and the like, it is risky to believe any narrative put forth by anyone about anything.
In my opinion, we forfeited our innocence and goodness the first time we tortured someone to attempt to extract information, and even if we now totally outlaw the practice, it will be a very long time for us to restore our standing as even slightly righteous.

#970 – Dick Bernard: Reflecting on My 1977 Christmas Letter

December 16, 2014/0 Comments/in Community, Family History, History, Minnesota, Quietings /by dickbernard

All best wishes to you and yours at this season, however you recognize it – and that can get confusing. I just came from the post office, which annually offers a large variety of Christmas and holiday themed stamps, hopefully to treat respectfully the largest number of people in this wonderfully diverse country of ours.
It occurred to me yesterday that this year is exactly half a life-time since I sent my first “home-made” Christmas card (in 1977, below). It had three panels: very simple. The sentiments I expressed then, fit today as well.
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1977 Christmas Card

The year was 1977, 37 years ago. Son Tom, then 13, drew the Christmas tree (we didn’t have a “real” or even artificial one that winter).
Of course, the only means of transmission then were in person, or by U.S. mail.
The “tradition” came for me to identify one particular significant event each year, and to write something about it.
The first time I went primarily to electronic transmission was well after the year 2000.
Fast forward to today.
This greeting can go anywhere/everywhere. But likely fewer people actually read it, than read that handmade card 37 years ago. Many of my own age range have never warmed to even e-mail; many more, like myself, are slow on the uptake with the already old-fashioned Facebook, and more recent Twitter, and the other shorthand ways of “touching base”.
We’re still in a canyon of non-communication*. In the midst of infinite means of communicating, everywhere, any time, instantly, something like this won’t reach people who don’t do internet; many on internet don’t do e-mail, or are so glutted with “communication” that a survival skill is the delete key…and sometimes worthy communication is missed. It’s a trying time, in so many ways.
I’ll be long gone when the next 37 year mark is reached. I wonder how people will be communicating then, if there are even people left to communicate with (a scary thought, but worth contemplating – we are the difference between having a future, or not).
For now, though, have a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.
And if you wish, here are recent blog posts that might speak to you in some way or other: “St. Nicholas“; “The Wallet“; “The Retreat“; “The Dinner Party”
* – This came home to me in a handwritten note with a Christmas card from long-time friend Joanne, received Dec 15: “I was going to e-mail you this Christmas letter as I know you prefer that but no e-mail address for you! Please send it and I’ll make sure it gets on my computer.”
She forgot to include her e-mail address….
Yes, it is difficult to communicate these days of mass communication!
POSTNOTE: Dec 22: Saturday morning I was at my usual “station”, Caribou Coffee in Woodbury, writing Christmas letters (in this case, to people for whom I had no e-mail address, advising them of this blog post). After all, everyone knows someone with computer, even if they don’t know how to use it! I’ve also learned that printed out versions of blogs don’t look as good as on the screen – tiny type font and all. Another problem in transitioning to a new way.
An older guy, who I know as another regular, came up to note that I was probably doing Christmas cards. Yes I was, I said. He said, he doesn’t do Christmas cards any more. We didn’t explore the topic in any depth; we really didn’t have to.
1977 is long gone, but it was good while it lasted….

#969 – Dick Bernard: The Retreat: a time to Quiet

December 14, 2014/0 Comments/in Quietings /by dickbernard

A couple of weeks ago, out of the blue, my friend, Clarence, invited me to a mens retreat with him.
I said, “sounds interesting, when is it? Where?” It turned out to be the Franciscan Retreat Center in Prior Lake MN, Friday night to Sunday noon, Dec 12-14. Schedules cleared, I signed up for my surprise.
(click to enlarge any photo)

Dec 14, 2014. St. Francis of Assisi

No question was asked, or information offered, about type of Retreat it would be or such. It could have been at a better time for several good reasons, but I decided to go anyway.
It was an enriching weekend, in all ways. There were about 35 of us, mostly older men. It was mostly individual, silent, with plenty of open time between the occasional structured activities, none of which were required; none of which were what I would call “interactive”. There was no TV or clock in the room, and no one I could see was running around with their iPhone or other evidence of doing business of any kind on a pre-holiday weekend. Meal times were communal times and we could and did chat.
The business was, in a real sense, getting in touch with ourselves, as individuals.
It is hard to “quiet”, but possible, and fulfilling once you can slow yourself down.
Here in Minnesota it was an unseasonably warm weekend – in the 40s – so the snow on the ground melted, leaving open the somewhat wet and messy walking paths in the woods. Those paths became my personal reflective space. Out there was the innovative sculpture of St. Francis seen above; and I was drawn to the old Peace Pole, and trees, leaves and surroundings of near-winter. It was quiet out there. What more could one ask.
As noted, I didn’t know what to expect during the weekend. I just went. Clarence knew more about this place than I, but this particular Retreat was a new one for him. He said during the weekend that he and his wife of 60 years went to Couples Retreat there for years. Caroline died about six months ago, so this was for him, too, a new experience.
The homilist for the Retreat turned out to be the retired Archbishop of St. Paul-Minneapolis, Harry Flynn.
He was marvelous, sharing lessons from his life, and from others he knew. He spoke four times, I’m guessing a total of about two hours in all, no direction, no group dialogue, except unspoken encouragement for individual reflection following each presentation. He was local Bishop here for a thirteen years, 1995-2008, a leader like most who we can get to know only through newsmakers. I had heard him give a sermon only once in those thirteen years, and it thus was a pleasure to get this surprise this past weekend.
In fact, the Retreat was a reminder that mysteries are often pleasant. It is a risk to go, as I did, into an essentially unknown environment, not knowing much of anything about what I was getting into. It was not the first time I’ve done this, and it won’t be the last: life can be like a wandering in a wood; you’re not sure what you’ll encounter, but the risk is worth taking.
I’m reminded of the piece of advice I’ve often shared on taking risks*, which I first saw in the Church Bulletin at the Methodist Church in Park Rapids MN in October, 1982. Here it is, again:

Leo Buscaglia quotation

Back home, regrouping, I watched 60 Minutes last night, and one of the segments was about the general business of Quieting. Take a look at the segment entitled Mindfulness. It’s not quite the same as I experienced, but only a matter of degree.
And thank you, Clarence, for the suggestion of joining you and 35 others on Retreat.

Peace Pole Dec. 13, 2014, Franciscan Retreat Center, Prior Lake MN

Grounded. Dec. 13, 2013

We had a single, optional, group activity: the comedy, Parental Guidance, about two grandparents attempting to grandparent their grandkids during the parents time away. It is a fun movie, full of lessons of its own, and especial fun to sit with a bunch of old guys, like me, and see how we all reacted to this or that scene.
I recommend it.
* POSTNOTE: My sister, Mary Ann, writes: “Enjoyed reading it….there are a few more lines to the prose by Ward which is also one of my favorites. Just google “To Risk” since I am not talented enough to insert a hyperlink.” So I did. And here is William Arthur Ward “To Risk“. As you can note, Ward’s is virtually identical to Leo Buscaglia, who was a contemporary of Ward’s, and to whom another source attributed the writing some years ago.
Who wrote it? No matter. It exists, and that is good.
All Blessings of the season to everyone.
POSTNOTE 2: Dec. 16. The most recent Just Above Sunset is very long and, I feel, very pertinent. I add my own long comment at the end of the post.

#968 – Dick Bernard: War Child, Growing Up In Adolf Hitler's Germany. Annelee Woodstrom

December 9, 2014/0 Comments/in War /by dickbernard

Today, even more so than most, will be a frantic, “CYA”, day in Washington D.C. when the long expected Senate Committee report on the U.S. and the practice of Torture during the Iraq years is released. My favorite blogger summarizes the chatter as it gathered yesterday here.
Everyone will have their own opinion. Mine borrows an old farm phrase: “the chickens come home to roost”. Our willful reinterpretation of things like the Nuremberg Principals and the Geneva Accords to justify torture basically destroyed our credibility in the world. In the wake of Iraq, we cannot pretend to be innocent purveyors of only good.
Last night I went to hear our friend Annelee Woodstrom talk to 35 very attentive Friends of the Southdale Library about her book, “War Child, Growing Up in Adolf Hitlers Germany“. Full disclosure: we have been good friends of Annelee since I first read of her book being published back in 2003; I was privileged to edit her second book, Empty Chairs; I’ve heard her talk several times; this morning, a little later, we’ll drive her home to northwest Minnesota, and spend a few days with her. She and her story are no stranger to me.
Through no fault of her own, Annelee grew up in Adolf Hitler’s Germany, her home from her birth in 1926 till she left the country in 1947 to become an “enemy alien” in the United States, marrying the “Gentleman Soldier” from Crookston MN who she and her family met when the U.S. Army liberated her town of Mitterteich.
She saw it all through a young persons eyes: the desperation of the Germans, humiliated by the Treaty of Versailles at the end of WWI; the promises, made and fulfilled by a charismatic German, Adolf Hitler, and his Nazi party; the beginnings of the persecution of the Jews (there were two Jewish families in her Catholic town of 6,000, and both survived the war, though they disappeared for a long while); having to drop out of school to go to work in a telegraph office in a city 95 miles from her home; experiencing the bombing, and at the end, walking 95 miles home – an 8 day trip – sleeping in ditches, starving, when all was lost.
Through it all, Annelee describes, from personal experience, why the horror of Nazi Germany could happen. It has never been a great surprise to me. People then, there, were like people here, now. Somebody promises a better life, a convincing message and some fulfilled promises make a better life possible, when the promise “goes south” it is too late….
Annelee, as a young girl, wanted to be part of Hitler Youth. It looked like fun. Her parents refused to allow her to join.

Annelee’s family in Germany ca 1943, the last time she saw her Dad alive. Annelee standing at left

Privilege went to party members: her Dad refused to join and ended up drafted into the German military system, ending up dying somewhere in Siberia, they think. There is no grave to visit….
For Annelee, personally, the key dates are 1939, when she was required to leave school and go to work; and 1943, when the momentum of the war shifted, and the national mood went from optimism about winning the war, to questions of survival.
If one looks at things like politics from the perspective of an innocent civilian, as Annelee was, one sees how families, communities, and finally countries can run amuck.
In the desperate times, people want a promise of hope; in good times, they gravitate to whoever can bring them the goodies; in the bad times, they get desperate, and by then are frozen out of the decision making process, afraid even to be honest within their own families.
Survivor of the remnants of the Thousand Year Reich, Rev. Martin Niemoeller, used to speak a lot about what the Germans learned from their experience. His message varied a tiny bit from speech to speech, leaving scholars to seek the actual origins of what he actually said, but this is the essential quote:
“First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Socialist.
Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Trade Unionist.
Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Jew.
Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.”
Thank you, Annelee.

Annelee Woodstrom, Dec. 8, 2014, at Southdale Public Library Edina MN

#967 – Dick Bernard: The Wallet, Pearl Harbor Day, 2014

December 7, 2014/0 Comments/in Community, Family History, History, Minnesota, War /by dickbernard

NOTE: November 25, 2016: The Dec. 7, 2016, post will include a link to this post, and more information relating to the 75th anniversary of Pearl Harbor. Directly related post here.
PRE-NOTE: I have written often, here, about the death of my Uncle Frank, my Dad’s kid brother, on the USS Arizona at Pearl Harbor, and how there was an unexpected family reunion – one I attended, as a one year old – in Long Beach CA less than five months before he died. Here and here are two related posts about this.
Dec. 7, 2014, at Landmark Center in St. Paul, I shared a small part of my own family story at a commemoration of December 7, 1941. A summary of what I said follows below, at “Pearl Harbor, a Family Reunion”. More details can be read here: frank-bernard001
The Wallet.
A month ago a mystery envelope appeared in our mailbox – the small packet from Scottville MI was postmarked Nov. 6, 2014.
It was from a cousin of mine, and when I opened the envelope the content was an old leather wallet (photo below, click to enlarge all photos).

The Wallet, 2014

It was very fragile, this billfold (another name for wallet). I was curious.
There was no money, but plenty of paper, all of which I removed. The Identification card said the wallet belonged to Vincent Busch, Berlin, N. Dak. Vincent is my Uncle, who I’ve spent a lot of time with especially this past year. Below are the entire contents of the Wallet.

See “More about the wallet” following “Pearl Harbor, the Family Reunion”
PEARL HARBOR, THE FAMILY REUNION
(Click to enlarge)

The family members in the story are, at right: Richard, Henry and Esther Bernard. From left, Henry and Josephine Bernard, Josie Whitaker, and Frank Bernard, Henry’s parents and siblings, in Long Beach.

Summary of remarks made at Landmark Center, Dec 7, 2014
I am one of very few Americans today who can honestly say they actually physically met one of those killed aboard the USS Arizona, Dec. 7, 1941. My last meeting with my Uncle Frank Bernard was at the end of June, 1941, five months before he died. I was one year old. I have the photo to prove it (above)!
The constellation of each and every victim that fateful Sunday, carry their own stories, in various ways.
Here’s some fragments of mine.
Frank served on the Arizona for six years. He was a shipfitter. Getting in the Navy was an accomplishment during the Depression. He seemed headed for a career in the Navy, but then there’s that letter he typed aboard the Arizona on “Nov 7 1941” (a Friday) where he asks his brothers advice: “I think I will get hitch to that little girl up in Washington she is a honey…what do you think of that…?”
I don’t know when that letter arrived back in ND. Neither do I know where the letter was written. From 27-31 October 1941 the Arizona was dry-docked at Pearl Harbor, and subsequent records went down with the ship.
Then, there’s a family picture I have, taken in late June, 1941, at Long Beach CA, of the entire family – there were 7 at the time. On the back of the photo Grandmother later wrote “the first time we had our family together for seven years and also the last.” It says it all. (The reunion was a surprise. No one expected the Arizona to pay a call at San Pedro, just down the coast from Long Beach.)
Forty years later, in 1981, Dad wrote a long and comprehensive history of his life and gave it to me. Ten years later, I was preparing a book of memories to give him on the 50th anniversary of Pearl Harbor, and found in that history which he had written, not a single word about Pearl Harbor. This is how repressed memory works (or doesn’t work).
On the other hand, my parents next male child, born in Nov. 1945, was named Frank Peter, doubtless in memory of Dad’s brother.
I asked Dad about the missing memories. My folks had a battery operated radio but Dad recalled that on December 7 they were not listening to the radio. The first word of the bombing at Pearl Harbor was received when [a colleague teacher] returned …late in the afternoon.
“During the week following the attack it was first announced that John Grabinski, a sailor from Grafton and Frank’s friend, had been killed. It was only later in the week that it was learned that John Grabinski was safe, but that Frank Bernard had been killed aboard the Arizona.” (Mr. Grabinski lived into his mid-80s, much of his later years in Arizona.)
Of course, the early chaos brought no news of who had died. A high school student in Dad’s class recalled years later that “I don’t remember us ever talking about [Dad’s brother] losing his life from the Japanese attack.”
The family did not get together, and to my knowledge there was no memorial service, or funeral. My grandparents, of Grafton ND, were in Long Beach; their daughter was in Los Angeles, and my parents were in rural North Dakota.
There was nothing much that could be done.
Many years later, a relative of mine found a very long article in the Grand Forks Herald of February 17, 1942, and sent it to me. It was about a North Dakota picnic in Los Angeles (in those days, state picnics were major events, attended, sometimes, by thousands). Reference was made to a talk by the Polish Consul in Los Angeles, in which he remembered “a young man of Polish descent at Pearl Harbor, the young man being a native of the Grafton area.”
The article continued: “When he had finished reading a man and his wife arose in the audience, the man asking if he might interrupt for just a moment…the man said the report of that boy’s death later was found to be in error, but that the man actually killed at Pearl Harbor was the pal of the boy mentioned in the first report. “The boy killed,” said the man, “was our son!” The couple standing were Mr. and Mrs. Henry Bernard, long time residents of Grafton. The entire audience arose and stood in silence for a moment in honor of the dead hero and the parents who made the sacrifice.”
There are no winners in war. Let us not forget.

Frank Bernard, Honolulu, some time before Dec. 7, 1941

…More about the 1941 Wallet

Finally, the rest of the contents spilled out. Here they are, speaking powerfully for themselves (look for and note, especially, the name Francis Long): Busch Vince Wallet004
I surmise that this wallet was a Christmas gift to Uncle Vince in 1940, probably from his parents (he would have been 15, then). The assorted photos and cards are classmates including his 12 year old brother, Art, a couple of nearby cousins, Anita and Melvin Berning, and other classmates from the Berlin High School. There were also some Gas Ration cards from WWII. There are two photos of Art, lower left of the four visible photos above, and at the top of the first pdf page.
Vince and Art shared a tiny little room in the farmhouse until Art graduated from high school in 1945. The winter heat source was the furnace chimney which came through their room. Bedrooms were for sleeping, period.
If I’m right, that the wallet was new in 1940, it was probably in Vincents pocket when the below picture was taken on Mother’s Day, 1941, at the farm.

Vincent and Art and Anita and Melvin are the kids towards the right of the photo. Are left are Vince’s parents, my grandparents, Rosa and Ferd Busch; and interspersed are by parents Esther and Henry Bernard and my other Grandparents Josephine and Henry Bernard, down from their home in Grafton ND.
This was a peace-time photo, at least in the United States.
Seven months after this picture, December 7, 1941, the Bernards youngest son, and my Dad’s brother, Frank, went down with the USS Arizona at Pearl Harbor. We last saw him in late June in Long Beach, apparently a surprise visit as the Arizona was in port at nearby San Pedro. Every American instantly became a part of America and the World’s most deadly war, till now.
In the wallet, there’s the card for Francis Long, a neighbor and school mate of Vincent.
On Thanksgiving I showed Vince the wallet and its contents, and I also showed him parts of some of the many albums his family kept over the years.
In the collection was this photo:

Francis Long, probably spring or summer 1944. He was apparently killed in action shortly after going on active duty.

“Who’s that?” “Francis Long”, he said.
Francis went off to WWII. Apparently shortly after he went to the Pacific theatre, things went wrong. August 20, 1944, Grandma wrote a letter to another son, George Busch, a naval officer on a Destroyer in the Pacific Theatre, and said this: “Fri we had a memorial Mass for Francis Long killed July 2 on Saipan in action….” (This photo was developed by Brown Photo, Minneapols, Oct 5, 1944. In those years, few pictures were taken, and it often took a long while to finish off an 8 or 12 exposure roll.)
War is never a solution, but for some reason we persist in our insanity that it is possible to kill off our enemies, and thus achieve piece. We are all “enemies” to somebody, somewhere. Let’s change the conversation.