Priming for Pete . . . California’s Primary Is Days Away

It’s less than a week until California holds its presidential primary. I’m excited to be casting my vote for Pete Buttigieg.

Sometimes, I find it hard to reclaim the enthusiasm I once had for the possibilities of the America ahead. Instead, cynicism, indifference and disgust too often fuel my political outlook.

But guess what?  Intelligence still excites me. Compassion engages me. Realism is reassuring. Integrity counts. And I want a leader I can be proud of.

A year ago, I never thought that I would find those qualities in the young mayor of a small Midwestern city.  When a friend first mentioned Mayor Pete, I had no idea who he was.  After googling the candidate, I thought my friend was only intrigued by Pete because he was gay.

A few months later, I heard about this amazing interaction between a Norwegian journalist and Pete at last year’s South by Southwest festival. He started talking to her in Norwegian (with a Midwest accent, according to her).  That’s when I learned he speaks 8 languages, including English.  A Harvard grad, a Rhodes scholar, a former military intelligence officer . . .  Imagine! Someone who might actually be able to think and reason.

The next time I was in our local Barnes & Noble, I picked up his campaign book, Shortest Way Home: One Mayor’s Challenge and a Model for America’s Future. It was a good read, and it gave me a sense of how he approached problems and worked with people. As a liberal arts grad, I believe strongly that people’s approach to learning and solving problems is a key indicator of their potential. Still, South Bend isn’t America. I remained skeptical

Nevertheless, I wanted to hear more. I started paying attention when he appeared on talk shows and town halls—even when it was on Fox.  In those early days, I was impressed by how he really listened to questions and actually answered them.

Maybe it helped that I worked my whole life in technology. I know people can be the catalyst to lead change and transform the world without requiring decades of achievements. Steve Jobs, Bill Gates, Mark Zuckerberg are names everyone knows.  People may not know the names of two people I actually encountered in my early days of Xerox who died this past year:  Larry Tessler who in his ‘30s helped invent the modern graphical user interface at Xerox Palo Alto Research Center, and Gary Starkweather who at 31 invented laser printing at the Xerox Webster Research Center. They, too, changed the world at a young age.

In short, I want to be open to vision and genius when it appears.

I know I’m not alone. I am often surprised by the number and variety of people who admire Pete Buttigieg, even as they worry that he may be too young or too unlikely a candidate.  I overcame that concern months ago. I have to vote for someone that I not only am willing to support but who I also want to follow.

So, yes, I’m going to vote for Mayor Pete. Wherever the primary season takes him, I feel this vote is one way I can fight back to restore a world where truth matters, where decency counts, and where the rule of law will once again be respected.

I still have hope for America’s future.

 

Please check out all my novels in paperback or Kindle format, including:  Tales from the Loon Town Cafe, The Finnish Girl, The Devil’s Analyst—and my latest, The Long Table Dinner.

www.amazon.com/author/dennisfrahmann

Goodby, Printed Gazette . . . My Future Lies Beyond

Not so long ago, I used to say to friends that I hoped printed newspapers would last longer than I did, because I couldn’t imagine starting the morning without a folded paper in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other.  Imagine my surprise when this old journalism major instead was the first to give up

Yes, we have canceled our subscription to the daily delivery of the local newspaper, the San Luis Obispo Tribune.  I feel a little guilty, especially when its parent company, McClatchy Papers, filed bankruptcy a day later. (Not that their decision had anything to do with our subscription.  They were seeking a way out of their pension mess.)

An end of an era. Saying our own goodbye to the daily paper being delivered.

Don’t get me wrong. I still love reading the newspaper every morning. For years, we have subscribed to the Kindle edition of the Los Angeles Times, so I still start my day with a newspaper read. And I prefer the e-edition of an on-line paper. I don’t want to go scampering around on-line lists of story titles that might interest me. I want to read what an editor has curated cover to cover.

Also, we still get so many magazines. The mail delivery person must think we’re spendthrifts in that regard.  But the funny thing is that for the nearly $1000 a year the Tribune was demanding for local delivery, I easily pay for all my magazines, the online LA Times, and Amazon Prime—with money left over.

Robert and I grew tired of arguing every few months with the McClatchy overlords that we weren’t willing to pay their rates.  For a while they would lower the price, and then would come the inevitable notice that the rates were going to a new level even higher than the one we bargained lower just months earlier.  Meanwhile, the paper dropped its Saturday edition, regularly grew thinner, and filled its remaining pages with long, poorly edited wire stories.

I broke.

Sometimes, I think I’m not meant for this modern age. A lot of people seem to love the freedom of their on-line experiences.  Not me.  Increasingly, I find my Facebook and Twitter feeds clogged with promoted posts and tidbits based on some algorithm that makes no connection to my real interests.  Amazon keeps suggesting books based on items I bought as gift for others.  (You see . . . I still like discovering books for myself in a brick and mortar bookstore.)  For a while, I enjoyed reading e-books, but I am back to the real thing.  Thank God for our local library’s used book store which resells what half the town reads for pennies on the dollar. As for TV, Netflix, Amazon, and Hulu shows sound intriguing, but if I’m not paying a $1000 a year for the local paper, I’m certainly not subscribing to all those services for one or two shows that often bore me after the first few episodes.  As for streaming music, I just don’t do it.

And don’t get me started on the metamorphosis of the phone.  We hardly ever answer our landline any more.  We look at the caller ID, and recognize that it’s almost certainly spam.  Luckily we found an app called Nomorobo for landlines that cuts off suspect calls after one ring.  (While I’m writing this, the phone rang. It wasn’t spam, but The Tribune.  I guess someone wanted to have another bargaining session over delivery rates.  I didn’t answer it.) On the other hand, our mobile phones do take great pix.

I just have to admit it. I’ve become an old curmudgeon. That unsettles me.  It’s likely that  there’s another twenty or more years on my personal runway. I often think I need to transition to something else or risk complete boredom.

Maybe giving up the printed paper will help me along that path.

I’ll send you a letter if it does.

 

Please check out all my novels in paperback or Kindle format, including:  Tales from the Loon Town Cafe, The Finnish Girl, The Devil’s Analyst—and my latest, The Long Table Dinner.

www.amazon.com/author/dennisfrahmann

Shaken to the Core: Days When You Lose Faith

There are days you simply can’t forget . . . happy days like when you first met the love of your life, or horrific days like 9/11.

But for me there are also those days when the foundations of your belief system are shaken to the core, and you realize nothing will ever be the same.  Today is that kind of day.

Previously such days were very specific to me and my beliefs. The very first occurred in the spring of 1965 when my grade school friend Gene and I were talking about religion.  I was only 12, but I was shocked to discover that Gene actually believed the Bible was literally true. You may find it hard to believe, but it never occurred to me up until then that anyone actually believed the nonsense we heard in church each Sunday. That was the day (long before I realized I was gay) when I first saw how different I was than others.

The second day occurred one decade later, in February, 1975.  I was interviewing the novelist Ayn Rand, author of Atlas Shrugged, for my master’s project at Columbia University on libertarianism. During my teenage years, inspired by her, I had been an ardent proponent of individualism and free enterprise.  But when she told me that “I haven’t made a mistake since the age of 12,” I was stopped in my tracks. What kind of fool was she?  I guess I lost a different kind of faith that day—not only in her but the entire movement. My political beliefs soon grew more mainstream.

A third epiphany was on a cruise to Tahiti when Robert and I enjoyed dinner night after night with our first billionaire.  Vivian said with a straight face, as we talked about a personal Disney family donation to build Disney Hall, “$75 million.  That doesn’t seem so much.” And she meant it.  We discovered she had recently given $300 million to my alma mater, Columbia University.  For the first time, I truly realized what a gulf there was between the truly rich and me.

Today isn’t like any of those other days. Those past events were shocks unique to me. Today I lost faith in my country. And I suspect I am not the only one.

When the Senate, in violation of the wishes of the great majority of Republicans and Democrats, voted for no witnesses, I had to accept that America is no different than every tinpot, corrupt government we claim to hate. Our leaders don’t stand up for what’s right for our country—instead they do what’s right for them in the moment.

No one claims with a straight face that Trump didn’t do what he’s accused of. Instead his supporters prate convoluted arguments about why it doesn’t matter, many of those in power neatly inverting arguments they made only 20 years ago in another impeachment.

Each day, more facts come out showing how wrong they are. But they’ve done it anyway. I’m sure some of you are happy that they did. So be it.

But I will never see the country the same again. And there’s no way that my idealistic belief that the United States is exceptional will survive.

As John Winthrop said already back in 1630, “We must always consider that we shall be as a city upon a hill—the eyes of all people are upon us.”  As echoed in subsequent years by Presidents John F. Kennedy and later Ronald Reagan, we have always aspired to be that city.

Today the eyes are upon us, and we have failed.

 

 Please check out all my novels in paperback or Kindle format, including:  Tales from the Loon Town Cafe, The Finnish Girl, The Devil’s Analyst—and my latest, The Long Table Dinner.

www.amazon.com/author/dennisfrahmann