HOME-LESS-NEST (E)

A couple of years ago, a photographer friend of mine asked me to write something for an issue of a photography magazine that he publishes. I asked him what he wanted the piece to be about, how long it should be, what format, etc., etc., and his reply was: “Whatever you want it to be about, as long as you want it to be, and whatever format you want.” Yeah, I know, a writer’s carte blanche! I wrote the following two related pieces in 2023, but did not want to post them here until the magazine was published, which took a bit longer than expected (July of this year). It’s two years later but things have not changed, at least certainly not for the better. The city is trying to clean up the encampments that pop up all over the city, but it has become a game of “encampment-relocation-roulette.” Yesterday, on my morning walk through an urban park, the powers that be were forcing all those camped out on the fringes of the park to pack up there stuff and leave, which they did. This morning, on that same walk, there were already several more tents in the exact some place as yesterday’s eviction!

The first piece is a free-form poem, which I am attaching as a pdf because of the unique formatting. To read it, just click on the title (“A Long Way From Home”) and the pdf will magically appear. The related essay follows the poem, and yes, the order is important!

“A Long Way From Home”

“A Change Is Gonna Come…Maybe!

Lisa Mann – 2003

There is ample proof out there in the world that “change” takes time, and that “social change” often takes much more than merely time. This may come as a bit of a shock to many who have embraced the old proverb “good things come to those who wait.” There is ample evidence that waiting patiently often devolves into impatiently waiting, and we all know what usually follows that. My title comes from a 60s anthem for social change, Sam Cooke’s 1963 hit song with the same title, minus the “maybe.” It begins: “I was born by the river / in a little tent / Oh, and just like the river, / I’ve been running ever since.” The “river” is now the “street,” but the “tent” . . .well, that has not changed. And the people? They are simply running in place. Twenty-seven years later (1990), The Scorpions released “Wind of Change,” and while there are no “tents,” the sentiment is eerily similar. The last verse perhaps promising hope for the future: “Take me (take me) to the magic of the moment / On a glory night (a glory night) / Where the children of tomorrow dream away (dream away) / In the wind of change (the wind of change).” Finally, sixteen years later (2006, and 43 years after Cooke), John Mayer released “Waiting on the World to Change,” and while the song is not specifically about homelessness, it certainly could be. The opening chorus’s rallying cry: “So we keep waiting (waiting) / Waiting on the world to change / We keep on waiting (waiting) / Waiting on the world to change / It’s hard to beat the system / When we’re standing at a distance / So we keep waiting on (waiting) / Waiting on the world to change.”

The musical analogies serve two purposes here. Firstly, they illustrate that the need for “change” has always been at the forefront of evolving societies. Secondly, the homeless situation in Los Angeles (and no doubt in many other cities across the country) can, in many ways, be compared to a piece of music with its highs and lows, crescendos, and oft repeated chorus lines. The only thing that is missing from the “song” of homelessness is the coda, as there has never been a “satisfactory close.” It is 2023, another seventeen years later, and the “people” are no longer running in place, instead they are stuck in place waiting, waiting…waiting for change. One cannot help but feel like they are “waiting for Godot!” The release date of Mayer’s song is interestingly coincidental as it is same year the city of Los Angeles, after federal courts upheld civil rights challenges to the city’s cracking down on homeless people without providing shelter, “settled litigation by signing the Jones agreement, which allowed homeless people to sleep overnight on sidewalks.” And here we are. But first, how we, as a society, look at change, more importantly social change.

Emmaline Soken-Huberty defines social change as a “transformation of cultures, institutions, and functions.” As can be expected, these types of fundamental changes are often very slow as there are a variety of moving parts and forces at work, “many of which resist disruptions of the status quo.” All societies go through these kinds of changes, and one only needs to look back over time to understand that the so-called “modern” society we now live in is vastly different from what it looked like a hundred years ago. Look back even further and it would most likely be unrecognizable in comparison. Soken-Huberty posits that there are three main theories of social change: “evolutionary, functionalist, and conflict.” These theoretical categories are useful as a template of sorts, in that they provide a “macro” look at social change. As the name would suggest, the “evolutionary” theory gained prominence in the 19th century as Darwin’s theory of evolution came into fashion as a way of looking at how societies advance (using a biological model) from “simple to more complex.” The downside of this theory is that it led many to conclude (and I would argue that many still believe this), that Western societies must be “superior” because of their “advanced” state.

Functionalist theory, as its name suggests, likens society to the human body, in that each part is like an organ. This way of looking at change, quite simply, is saying that “individual parts (organs) can’t survive on their own.” In other words, all parts of a society must be harmonious in order for it to function, always trying to work its way towards stabilization. “If, and when, problems occur, they are most likely temporary, but they do need attention from the other parts.” Critics of this theory contend that it tends to ignore that a society’s elite often creates “a mirage of harmony and stability, while also failing to factor in race, class, and gender.” One need only look at what is going on in the world today to understand the criticism.

And finally, conflict theory. This theory “states that society is by nature unequal and competitive.” While this way of looking at change does adhere somewhat to evolutionary theory, it has been pointed out, most notably by Karl Marx, that each new phase of “evolution” did not necessarily result in “something better than before.” In this model, and in a somewhat similar vein to functionalist theory, “the rich and powerful control the rest of society by exploiting vulnerable groups. This sows conflict, provoking people to action, and as a result, social change occurs. Some examples of monumental social change over time include, but definitely not limited to: The Reformation, the abolition of the transatlantic slave trade, the Civil Rights Movement, the feminist movement, the LGBTQ+ rights movement, and the green movement. As is often the case with large scale change, many of these are ongoing and/or still evolving.

Given the above examples of change, it should not be surprising that the less fortunate in any given society are the ones that will have to wait the longest for any kind of changes to occur, if in fact they every do. Unfortunately, those that find themselves living on city streets are even more vulnerable than the “less fortunate,” as they are not even on the bottom rung of the ladder to the top, and their voices are the least audible of all. In November of 1977, a year before his death, former Vice President Hubert Humphrey spoke about the treatment of the weakest members of a society as a reflection of its government: “The moral test of government is how that government treats those who are in the dawn of life, the children; those who are in the twilight of life, the elderly; those who are in the shadows of life; the sick, the needy and the handicapped.”

If the history of homelessness in Los Angeles tells us anything, it is that governments, at both the state and local levels, have failed Humphrey’s “moral” test miserably and repeatedly. Looking back at Los Angeles Times articles written about homelessness and related issues over the past fifty years (1973-2023), presents the reader with an unfolding story of promises, plans, waste, misunderstanding, frustration, and no solution; then as new government(s) are ushered into to power, and the story picks up where it left off, more promises, more plans, more waste, more misunderstanding, more frustration, and still no solution. The 1973 start date for my research may seem arbitrary, but it is around this date that I began to read more and more articles about homelessness in Los Angeles, although they really begin to ramp upwards around 1985. In reality, the problem goes back much further than this date, but it was apparently not as newsworthy as it began to be in 1973 and, if we fast-forward to today, news about homelessness and what is being done, or not done is almost a daily occurrence. Even if you only read the headlines/titles for these news stories, you will begin to see emerging patterns that ebb and flow over the course of a mayor’s term in office: A flurry of activity centered around all the grandiose promises made to get elected, slowly tapering off to a trickle by the end of the term.

During the fifty year span I looked at, there have been five past mayors and Karen Bass the current mayor, who took office at the end of 2022. Although the term length for mayor is four years with a maximum of two consecutive terms, these restrictions were only enacted in 2002, which explains why Thomas Bradley (the first on the list for this inquiry) was mayor from 1973-1993, which amounts to five consecutive terms. Next up was Richard J. Riordan (1993-2001); James K. Hahn (2001-2005); Antonio Villaraigosa (2005-2013); and Eric Garcetti (2013-2022). All of these mayors dealt with the problem of homelessness in their own ways and were, as is always the case with any kind of social change, hampered or bolstered buy the “social” climate of the times. Being the mayor of a large US city in the 70s or 80s, for example, was in many ways light-years away from being mayor in 2023. While the myriad of reasons and root causes for homelessness have remained fairly consistent over the years, the world around these people has changed dramatically.

What has also changed over the years, are the “labels” we have attached to those who, for a variety of disparate reasons, find themselves on the outside of what the status quo would deem “normal.” When the word “homelessness” was first used sometime in the late 1800s, it was meant to describe itinerant “tramps,” who at that time in history were traveling the country in search of work. At that time however, the emphasis was not about whether or not one had a “home” per se, it was about the loss of “character” attached to a perceived emerging “moral” crisis, which threatened long-held ideas of home life, rather than the lack of a permanent home. The label tramp eventually evolved to “hobo,” first appearing around the 1880s, especially in western America, which softened the public’s perceptions of tramps. Accompanying the change in verbiage, was the often romanticized depiction of migrant laborers in American literature – Walt Whitman, Bret Harte, Sinclair Lewis – and later in movies, like Wild Boys of the Road, a 1933 pre-Code Depression-era American film directed by William Wellman, telling the story of several teens forced to become hobos. Or go back a little earlier and you have Chaplin’s The Tramp, (1915), and The Gold Rush (1925).

By the end of World War II, the United States ushered in an emerging economic engine that put the nation back to work. Over the next three decades, according to the National Institutes of Health, the typical individual experiencing homelessness continued to be disproportionately white and male but became increasingly older (usually over 50), disabled, dependent on welfare or social security, and tended to reside in cheap hotels, flophouses (in itself a very telling nomenclature), and in single room occupancy hotels (SROs) located in the poorest neighborhoods and Skid Row areas of urban America. This term, Skid Row, is derived from the term “skid road,” which describes a forest track over which logs were dragged to get to either water for transport or the mill. If you allow that image to percolate for a moment, it is fairly easy to see the evolution to Skid Row. In an unfortunate example of irony, the people living in SROs and rooming houses during this period would be considered “housed” under The Department of Housing and Development’s (HUD) current definition of homelessness. This fact alone underscores the difficulty in defining and studying homelessness throughout the U.S.

For me, the key word here is “housed.” In fact, the term homelessness itself has gone out of favor, having been replaced by the term “unhoused.” One of the major themes that I was able to take away from all the newspaper clippings I looked at over the years, is that the money being spent, the policies being bandied about, the “housing” projects and initiatives brought forward, have always been first and foremost about getting people off the streets. While this is certainly an important part of the “problem,” it does not address the many root causes such as mental health, drug addiction, chronic unemployment, under employment, and the lack of services in general, but especially for this country’s veterans. It is not a coincidence that the prosperity of that 30 year period mentioned above, coincides with returning military at the end of the Vietnam War. I apologize in advance if this seems a bit callous, but the efforts to get people off the streets smacks of the old proverb: “Out of sight, out of mind.”

One need only look at some recent stories/features about the “housing” being provided for Los Angeles’s homeless population to understand why putting people in “rooms” is not working. An August 27th article (2023) in the Business section of Los Angeles Times, “At Cecil Hotel, gaping needs,” by Jaimie Ding, brings to light the severe problems and squalid living conditions these people are living in: roaches, faulty plumbing and heating, mold, and overall filthy living conditions. On top of all that, are the lack of any kind of services. As Dora Gallo (from A Community of Friends, a nonprofit housing operator) stated in the article: “You can’t put people in apartments that have not really lived in an apartment setting for a while without providing the services.” Yet another feature story from November of this year, “Inside the world’s largest AIDS charity’s troubled move into homeless housing,” paints a more depressing picture than the one above, as if that is even possible. The subtitle for this exposé by three Times journalists says it all: “A Times investigation has found that many of the AIDS Healthcare Foundation’s more that 1,300 residents live in squalid conditions, with dozens under the threat of eviction.” The threat of eviction is directly related to many of the residents refusing to pay rent until conditions improve, but instead of doing that the foundation is suing the tenants for back rent and then threatening to throw them out if they do not pay. Consider just one of the stories coming out of this investigation. John Carter, 72, lives on the sixth floor of the Baltimore. He suffers from memory loss, dementia, depression, bipolar disorder, and mania. He is addicted to crack cocaine, incontinent and blind in one eye, and also suffers from arthritis in his knees and ankles, making getting around difficult. He has complained that the conditions in the facility are deplorable, describing that even when the hot water is working, which it often isn’t, it leaves a milky residue, and he has to struggle up six flights of stairs when the elevator is not working, another common occurrence. He does not feel he should have to pay rent, but told the foundation that if he must, they should take it out of his Social Security check. They did not do this, instead serving him with a small claims lawsuit.

The last article from the Times that I looked at from 2023 had the following headline: “LA homeless tally gets worse; the latest numbers are a grim reminder that we have to keep building more affordable (emphasis added) housing.” Firstly, and why I emphasized the word “affordable,” is because it is a relative term. And, as has been documented above, just because a roof over one’s head may be within one’s financial means, it does not address the myriad of associated problems that come with that affordability. Secondly, giving someone in need of a “home” does not address the root causes of the larger problem. When I plugged into my computer the words “home” and “house” looking for definitions, the accompanying photos for both entries showed structures that in the Los Angeles market would start at two million dollars and go up from there. Housing, in one sense refers to “shelter,” while the “true” meaning of home is a “safe haven and a comfort zone. A place to live with our families and pets and enjoy with friends. A place to build memories as a way to build wealth. A place where we can just truly be ourselves.” This is not the definition of an SRO.

The photo at the top of this essay is a sculpture by Lisa Mann, a Pasadena artist, titled: “George Wilson: Home (more-or-less).” It was created in 2003 and updated in 2005 and 2023 and is currently located on S. Lake Ave. as part of the Pasadena Rotating Public Art Program Phase IV. The location is one I frequent often. Mann’s use of shopping carts, is a nod to the fact that they have long been associated with homelessness and living on the streets. The labels that are placed around the carts are markers for where homeless people have to go to find specific services for their needs. The writing on the bars of the carts represent a typical day of travel for George Wilson, a homeless person in Pasadena that Mann interviewed for her project. There are several short clips of those conversations that can be found at: https://www.lisa-mann.com/george-wilson-home-more-or-less.html It is only one story out of thousands, but it offers a glimpse into the daily routine of Mr. Wilson’s and some of the reasons behind his unfortunate predicament. It should also be noted that homelessness varies a great deal depending upon where you find yourself in the greater Los Angeles area.

The question that remains to be answered is: What kind of “change” is needed to address the issue (s) surrounding homelessness? Peter Senge, an American systems scientist, and author had this to say about change: “People don’t resist change. They resist being changed.” What resonates for me here is that this is true for both sides of the homelessness equation; those that are in desperate need of change but resist those efforts because of a lack of trust in the “system,” and those that are in a position implement change but fumble around as governments and agencies squabble over how best to implement the changes needed. The only way this will ever change is when there is enough of a heightened sense of urgency. What does that look like you may ask? Well, when a recent fire closed down a section of the 10 freeway running through downtown Los Angeles causing a traffic nightmare for commuters, and we were told that it might be weeks even months before repairs could be completed, this certainly created that sense of urgency. But unlike the urgency of the homelessness crisis, which involves people not concrete, local, and state governments threw all kinds of money and effort into the problem and the freeway was back in operation within a week. Shortly after it reopened, I received an email from the city informing me that any businesses impacted by the fire and road closure could submit forms to demonstrate economic hardship in order to be eligible for some kind of financial relief. Need I say more?

I started with music so it is only fitting that I end that way, and I might as well get on the Taylor Swift bandwagon as everyone else appears to be doing these days and leave you with some lines from her 2008 song “Change” which, in many ways, echo Mayer’s “Waiting for the World to Change:” “So we’ve been outnumbered / Raided and now cornered / It’s hard to fight when the fight ain’t fair / We’re getting stronger now / Find things they never found.”

Los Angeles 2023

It Happened One Night…A Fairy Tale in Two Acts! F/s

ACT 1 – Laughter is the Best Medicine

Once upon a time in the not too distant future…

Cue to audible sounds of tickertape, frantic keyboard noises, and shouting: “Tick, tick, tickety-tick, click, click, clickety-click, yack, yack, yackety-yack: “HEY, BRUCE!” “YEAH, WHAT DOYA NEED JIMBO?”  “I SAID TO THE LEFT, YOURE OTHER LEFT!” “AH, OKAY!” “Asshole!”

The camera pans to give us a glimpse of a very hectic and frenetic group of people, some standing, some seated, most all of them in a frenzied state, their desks heaped with computer equipment, littered with papers, coffee cups, and ashtrays with butts of everything in them. What we are seeing is an energetic newsroom, broadcasting daily the “news” or, at least, what passes for the “news” these days, seen in its rawest form. Among the throng, one brave soul manages to elevate himself above the hoards below, and screams into a logoed megaphone:

“WE ARE LIVE/OR DEAD IN TEN…NINE…EIGHT…SEVEN…”

Camera pans in for a closeup of two, very thirtyish and stylish T.V. anchors. Just as Chad, dressed in a tailored and very expensive looking suit, which is not surprising. What is surprising, however, is that it looks eerily familiar to something worn by news anchors more than fifty years ago. Doing his best to represent the studio’s “macho” broadcast element, he touches his left ear earpiece as if receiving an important message…

“C’mon Chad, you can do it. Simply read what’s in front of you on the bold printed cue card:” And now for our live feed inside WTFN studiosexclusive presentation ofTHE DEBATE. “Remember, this is an IMPORTANT EVENT.

Chad opens his mouth and begins to talk in the most pathetic and wimpy tone imaginable…

 “… We take you live for, uh the debate.” Finger to earpiece…

“That was fantastic Chad, my 20-month-old granddaughter couldn’t have said it better.”

Meanwhile, Chad’s partner in crime, Steph, sits demurely provocative, in a breathtaking strapless, sleeveless, seemingly fabric-less, Prada, creation, painstakingly crafted, expressly for this evening by senior designer, Luigi “F.” The stunning dress is complimented with Cartier’s signature, “I Am Fabulous, You Are Not, Collection,” with enough carats to keep Bugs Bunny in the pink. She looks over at Chad with a hint of a sparkle in her eye and mouths the following silently at him …

 “You fuckin’ moron. Could you be a little more emotive? Sorry, I guess not, you huge piece of…”

…before turning to her microphone and smiling, oozing syrupy haughtiness and says:   

“Yes Chad, you got that right… finally.”  The DEBATE we have all been waiting for; Donald Trump versus Kamala Harris. It is sure to be a “HUMDINGER FOLKS!

Steph touches her earpiece…

“Humdinger … folks,” and in bold and caps no less!  Are you fuckin’ kidding me? What is this, the 1900s? Who are you?”

“We now take you live…”

ACT 2 – More Laughter is Even Better Medicine

Announcer’s baritone voice:

“Ladies and gentlemen, if I could have your attention…thank you…over there…thank you…now pointing, and there…thank you. I would like a round of applause for our participants in this evening’s massacre…ah, I mean debate. Center stage looking very dapper, despite his age, is Dan Rather, making a rare post-retirement television appearance after patching things up with WTFN executives…well after, throwing a hissy fit anyway, our illustrious, well-informed, loquacious, and impassioned, referee, ah moderator, for this evening’s debacle, I mean debate. Seated to his immediate left, well you know, his only left, is someone that needs little or no introduction, the one-and-only… touching his earpiece…

“Careful with the ad-libs, buddy, there are people watching this, and many of them are armed.”

… former President of the United States, Mr. Donald Trump. To Mr. Rather’s right is the honorable and current Vice President, Ms. Kamala Harris, who has, for this evening, eschewed her normal business-suit attire for something a little more, shall I dare say, risqué… Hang on… I’ve just been informed that she is wearing a Carolina Herrera plunging floral print ruffle cape gown, in shell pink.”

Both the live and television audiences can clearly see that the dress has certainly gotten the attention of not only the former President, who has this rather strange look on his face, but that look is being overshadowed by the rage and disgust on the former First Lady’s face. The camera operator, unable to contain him/herself, pans quickly to news anchor Steph, who has an absolutely apoplectic look on her face, because Harris’s outfit makes her Prada getup look like something purchased from the remainder bin at Filene’s Basement. The camera swings back to Mr. Rather, who taps his microphone so loudly that the audience bolts out of their seats.

 “Is this thing on?” Right. Okay. Good evening, everyone. Before we begin, I would like to reiterate… he touches his earpiece…

“Nice big word there Dan, but remember what we told you at this morning’s briefing, K.I.S.S. language – ‘keep it simple stupid’ – Got it? Good.”

“Okay, I would like to remind everyone of tonight’s rules…ah, guidelines…ah, kind of suggestions for tonight’s debate:”

  • Each participant will have two minutes to raise an issue, make a point, make clear their position, or debase one another with vitriol. (Like they do on “Trolling For Dollars,” seen on this very network, every Tuesday night at 11PM, just after the nightly national and regional fake news).
  • As was previously agreed upon by both participants, and to the chagrin of everyone else, all microphones will be “live” for the entire debate, even when the other is speaking. Each has been warned not to interrupt the other during their respective two minutes. We expect the participant’s full cooperation on this matter. (We also expect that it will all come crashing down after about 30 seconds.)
  • Foul language, name calling, insulting remarks about appearance, immediate family, friends, and views are strictly prohibited. (We give that one about 15 seconds.)
  • The moderator, at his discretion, can silence microphones if, at any time during the proceedings, he feels as though things have gotten out of hand. (Firstly, it is an absolute given that “things” WILL get out of hand. Secondly, it is an absolute given that I will in no way be able to navigate the complex sound system set-up in front of me – three toggle switches labelled on/off – one in the middle, one on the left, no, my other left, and one on the right).

“Mr. Trump, are you ready?”

Trump: “Yes. And I would just like to say…”

Harris: “Nobody cares about what you have to say. . .

Trump: “Dan, make her stop interrupting me. After all, I am…

Harris: “Yes please, tell everyone who you are, as if we all don’t already…

Rather: “Well, I promised my great grandchildren I wouldn’t do this, but you both need to settle the fuck down.” Please Ms. Harris, let Mr. Trump finish his answer to the “are you ready?” question.

Trump: “Thank you Dan. Now where was I? Right, so… just to be very clear…because above all else… the right to be in this country comes with… can you believe she said that?…this country… the greatest country in the world…has problems… I can fix them…because I am… why do you think they want to come here?… those people… from shithole countries… I am first and foremost a family man…”

One of the camera persons is finally shaken out his stupor by the flailing arms of the guy holding up Trump’s cue cards, just as he flings them to the ground stomping out of the building, to the audience’s great amusement. Rather is looking like he would prefer to be at a three-hour talk on senility and how to avoid it, and Harris is posing for the crowd, happy to let “Mr. Off-Script” just ramble on making absolutely no sense whatsoever, which happens just about every time he opens his mouth. However, she can sense the restlessness of the audience, so she coughs politely…

Harris: “A family man? You must have a very loose definition of that word. As fascinating as all this is, why don’t you tell us a bit about you “foreign” policy? You know, how you like to “label” anyone who wasn’t born in this country as foreigners. Like, what you say about those from across our southern border – rapists, murders… nasty people, or the people across our northern border – terrible trade cheaters…

Trump: “They are all trying to tear this country apart… I have never seen anything like what is happening… To be honest …

Harris: “Puh-lease.” Don’t use words you don’t unders…

Trump: “… I have many concerns about women’s rights…”

Harris: “What? You were talking about “they” trying to tear us…

Trump: “I know this is complicated stuff, especially for a Vice President, not a former President like mysel…

Rather: “And this seems like the perfect time to break for a commercial.”

Announcer: “And now a word from the only company willing to sponsor this debate, Pfizer Commercial Healthcare, the makers of Super Extra Strength “Debate” Advil,” designed especially to combat that pounding between your ears from what you’ve just listened to. They are now yours for the paltry sum of just $149.99 for two tablets, because we know that people would pay twice that much for just one right about now. And now back to you Dan… Dan?”

As the camera person slowly pans the camera to the debate floor, we can see that there are “security” people from both sides everywhere. At the center of the melee is Harris’s chief of security, Bernie Sanders, wearing his signature mittens, which he has somehow fitted with brass knuckles, and Trump’s chief thug, Hulk Hogan, ripping the shirt from his massive chest while grunting, presumably because of the effort it took to rip off his shirt. The camera then shifts to the extreme, right or left, take you pick, to a visibly shaken Rather, now ensconced in a bullet-proof cylinder. Finally noticing the camera is aimed at him he mutters…

“I’m too old for this shit! Well folks, the debate has come to an unfortunate and chaotic end, but the candidates have agreed to a second and hopefully more civil debate. However, this time the candidates will be in studios at opposite ends of the country, and at this time a search for a moderator has been started, with letters of invitation being sent to convicts from all the major jails across the country. It is just WTFN’s way of saying…

And they lived happily ever after…

THE END.

Los Angeles 2024

A Complicated Word (E)

A few weeks ago, I rewatched a movie that I had not seen since it was released in 2015, The Big Short. It is about a group of investors in 2006/07 that bet against the United States mortgage market. That is the “short” explanation; it is about so much more, but that is not really relevant here. At 1:01:51 into the movie, the following flashes on the screen: “Truth is like poetry: And people hate fucking poetry.” I know that I saw these words the first time I watched the movie, but for some reason this time around it caught my attention, enough to pause and rewind so I could convey to you the exact time. Before I tried to figure out why I reacted this way this time around, I first thought of other movies that I’ve seen that had memorable mentions of the word “truth.” The first one that came to mind was the 1992 military drama, A Few Good Men, starring Jack Nicholson, Tom Cruise, Demi Moore, Kevin Bacon, and others. When Nicholson’s character is on the witness stand and being questioned by Cruise, who is trying to get at the truth, Nicholson, who is getting more flustered by the minute, finally blurts out: “The truth? You can’t handle the truth.” The second movie that popped into my head, with a line that is probably more appropriate with where my mind went when I was watching the above, was the 2007 quasi military drama, The Shooter, starring Mark Wahlberg, Danny Glover, and Ned Beatty, who plays a, shall we say, morally bankrupt U.S. senator…hmm. At a pivotal point towards the end of the movie, Beatty’s character, senator Charles Kittredge (from Montana) utters the following: “The truth is what I say it is!” Indeed.

“Truth” is a word that we are all familiar with, and one that we have been hearing a great deal these days. The word’s origin is Old English: trīewth or trēowth, and its earliest known use as a verb dates back to the Middle English period (1150-1500). It is also recorded as a noun from the Old English period (pre-1150). In the New Testament, John 8:32 (the Gospel of John), it appears as part of a conversation between Jesus and the Pharisees: “And you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.” When I read this, I cannot help but ask myself: “Set me free from what?”

The English language, over the years, has given us no end of idioms with the word “truth.” Gems like: (if the) truth be known, ain’t that the truth, moment of truth, the honest truth (suggesting that there is a dishonest truth…LIE), and truth is stranger than fiction (often proving itself to be true), just to name a few. Of course, the one that most people are familiar with, after watching a few too many legal dramas, comes from our judicial system: “Do you solemnly (swear/affirm) that you will tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?” Of course, if you can handle it.

There are many variations of this oath adopted by different countries (the one above belongs to the U.S.), but they all amount to the same thing: the inference that the person being sworn in will tell the “truth,” which in most people’s minds means don’t lie, even though the opposite of true is “untrue.” This may seem like I am “splitting hairs” here, but we all know that a “well-crafted lie” has some element of truth, as part of its disguise. However, these are human beings being sworn in, which means the “truths” that are about to be revealed in testimony are most certainly “subjective” truths. And while these truths may be based on “fact” and “reality,” one cannot ignore that facts and reality are both open to interpretation, not to mention “belief.” Like I said: “It’s complicated!”

The concept of truth has been discussedand debated, ad nauseam, in a variety of contexts, including philosophy, art (It was Picasso who once stated: “Art is a lie that makes us realize the truth, at least the truth that is given us to understand.”), theology, law, and science. Most commonly, “truth is viewed as the correspondence of language or thought to a mind-independent world.” This is called the “correspondence theory of truth.” Now, the concept of a mind-independent world or reality, a phrase which rears itself from time to time in philosophy and science, is a way of “asserting that reality is not a matter of private whims: there are hard facts ‘out there’ that we cannot wish away.” Moreover, these facts would persist even if no one were ‘out there’ at all. If you are scratching your head after reading this and saying: “Wait, what,” you are not alone?

Correspondence theories “emphasize that true beliefs and true statements correspond to the actual state of affairs.” As such, the theory stresses that there exists a relationship between “thoughts or statements” on one hand, and “things and objects” on the other.  This is a traditional model dating back to the Ancient Greek philosophers, Socrates, Plato and Aristotle. As a particular “class” of theories (in this case “substantive”) it postulates that “the truth to the falsity of a representation is determined, in principle, entirely by how it relates to ‘things’ according to whether it accurately describes those ‘things.’” Or, put another way, and how Thomas Aquinas interpreted this theory, “A judgement is said to be true when it conforms to the external reality.” The “complication” in this theory, as I see it, is that it centers heavily around the assumption that “truth is a matter of accurately copying what is known as ‘object reality’ and then representing in in thoughts, words, and other symbols.” The question that highlights the complication is this: “How can we reconcile “subjective” truths with “objective” reality? The short answer…you can’t!

There are, of course, many other theories of “truth” that are part of the grouping “substantive,” and many of them, in their own unique ways, shed some light on the “complication” I have espoused. Coherence theory (a proper fit of elements within a whole system), pragmatic theory (truth is verified and confirmed by the results of putting one’s concepts into practice), constructivist theory (truth is constructed by social processes, which are historically and culturally specific, and shaped by power struggles within a community), all have elements to them that in some way addresses the “objectivity” “subjectivity” conundrum. However, it is the last one of the “substantive” theories that for me zeroes in on our current dilemma concerning truth, and that is consensus theory. Its premise is that “truth” is whatever is agreed upon, or in some versions, might come to be agreed upon, by some specified group (emphasis added). Such a group might include all human beings, or a subset thereof consisting of more than one person.”

The current political shit storm (because conundrum just doesn’t quite capture the mood) this country is facing can be, if we want to simplify something that really can’t be simplified, reduced to the following: Two “subset” groups (Republican/Democrat, Conservative/Liberal, Right/Left) who believe their “truth,” which are in a way represented by the “scales of justice” photo above. No amount of verbiage, appearing wherever those on either side inform themselves as to what is going on, is going to alter the “truths” they believe because there is no dialogue between the two. Digging in one’s heels and screaming: “You’re a liar and are full of shit. No, you’re a liar and are full of shit” at each other does not count as a “dialogue.” And, if the “truths” that each side believe tend to be light years apart, as they are right now stumbling towards November, the more difficult it becomes to know what is “true.” While this in and of itself is certainly problematic, what is far more disturbing is that it really doesn’t matter if something is “true” or not. Just last month, Lara Trump (D.T.s daughter-in-law, and co-chair of of the RNC) told a crowd in Texas that “Donald won in 2020; we all know that.” Well, some of us do. And a few days ago, I received an email from the DNC asking for money that said: “Please give us a chance to explain why this request is so important. Here is the truth…” Finally…maybe. Going back to Picasso’s thought that “art is a lie,” the picture that is being painted for us, by whomever we choose to listen to, is always going to be subjected to interpretation. Or, put another way: “The truth is what [whoever is speaking] says it is.” In other words, it’s complicated. And just when I thought that I would never be able to determine what is true, I remembered that we now have “Truth Social.” Please wake me up when it’s over!

Los Angeles 2024   

“I’ll Be There For You” (S)

If you recognize my title, you were most likely one of the approximately 52.5 million people who tuned in regularly to watch the hit show, Friends (1994-2004). Or, you might have been a fan of The Rembrandts, who performed the song for the show, and then went on to expand and record the song for their third album a year later. The show ended 20 years ago but has been in the news lately with Mathew Perry’s untimely passing (Oct. 2023).

What follows is not really about the show per se; however, it does play a very big part in why I chose to write what you are about to read. My friendship with Steve, Butch (more on that name and the pendant later), and Mike began when I was 12 (the other three go back even further), making it a friendship of 61 years and counting. When I first thought of the idea to write about my friendship with these three dudes, the first thing that popped into my head, for some reason was the show, quickly followed by me saying to myself: “Wait, I have a friend Michael (different one) here in Los Angeles who actually was a writer on that show.” Those thoughts came exactly a year ago, and the next day I wrote my friend an email:

Hey Michael, I hope Italy is treating you well. As you know, I have been writing stories about my past and some of my childhood friends for my blog, and I got this idea to write a kind of culminating piece about this friendship with my three buddies. Despite my departure 40 years ago from the city in which the three of them still live, when we had a Zoom call the other day, it only took about five minutes before the conversation sounded like we had never been separated by time or distance, kind of picking up where we left off. So, I wanted to pick your brain, about your time on the show, for things like how it got its name, and how the idea of “friendship” factored into the writing and the various plot lines and predicaments of the episodes. Thanks in advance, Ciao, North.

His response the next day was as follows:

As far as “Friends” goes, it got that title long before I was there, I think the creators just eventually landed on a title so simple (but also so obvious) that it’s become ironic . . .The basic idea in the foundation of the story-telling on “Friends” was that at this particular stage in your life [late twenties early thirties when the show began] , when things might not be going as planned, when you don’t have the job you thought you’d have, or your dating world sucks, you still have your friends to fall back on. They might be life-long friends, or they might be more recent friends, but if they are true friends they have your back.

After reading Michael’s response, I realized that becoming friends when you are in your late twenties, early thirties is, not surprisingly, very different than forming friendships in your teen years. I also realized that while there can and will be similarities in developing friendships in either age bracket (late 20s early 30s or as teenagers), the timeframe for when those friendships developed (what decade or century for that matter) might also dictate how those friendships evolved. For example, my buddies and I were 13 in 1963/64, the start of our high school years, and we all graduated in 1968 when we were 17, with two of us soon to turn 18 later that year. What would a comparison of similar types of teen friendships that developed from 2019/20 to 2023 look like?  I would venture to say that what was available to us, like “outside” stimulus, not to mention what was going on in the world in those different time periods, might make a huge difference in how those friendships manifested.

As one can imagine, there have been a myriad of studies done over the years about adolescence and the nature of relationships that develop during that period of a young man’s or woman’s life. The most obvious conclusion of many of these studies is that teens “spend an increasingly more time in the company” of their peer group, and less and less time with parents and family members. Because of this, these friendships gradually deepen “in terms of levels of commitment, intimacy, and acceptance of differences among friends.” While childhood friendships tend to be based on common activities, teen friendships “expand to include similarities in attitudes, values, and shared activities.” To put all this into a 13-year-old’s language: “Hey, you like to play ball, so do I, let’s be friends!”

The friendship between myself (Irwin), Steve, Mike, and Butch started in May of 1963, when my parents decided it was time to move to a new neighborhood. Okay, now seems like the right time to address that name. The story I remember being told, is that Edward, or Ed, was born with flaming red hair, and his parents hadn’t decided on a name yet for their new son but did not want people to start calling him “Red,” so they chose Butch, which also morphed into Butchie over the years. (Please keep in mind that this was 1951)!  Now you know. Back to the move. As the movers were unloading the truck, I was hanging around supervising this work (also known as being a pain in the ass), when this kid walked up to me and said: “Hi, my name is Steve, do you want to go to the park and play some ball?” I said, “Sure,” and then ran upstairs to tell my Mom that I was going to the park with my new friend, Steve. I am sure you can imagine the look on her face, considering that we had been in the neighborhood for all of a half hour. But, to the park I went, much to the delight of the movers.

Shortly after this event, Steve introduced me to two of his other friends, Butch and Mike, and the friendship of the “four amigos,” as someone once dubbed us, began, long before that film with a similar title. The friendship really started to formulate that September when we were all starting at the same high school (Sir Winston Churchill) in the Montreal suburb of Ville St. Laurent, Quebec. Every morning and afternoon for four years (not five in those days), Steve and I would meet at Butch’s house to pick him up (all four of us lived within a few blocks of each other), and then the three of us would walk the short block on the same street to pick up Mike, before we all walked the mile or so to school. I won’t regale you with stories like it was uphill both ways with terrible weather…but it was!  Although we had some classes together, most of the bonding came when we were hanging out at school during breaks, hanging out after school, hanging out on weekends; let’s just say there was a great deal of “hanging out.”

We played and watched a variety of sports together – football, baseball, hockey – and we rode our bicycles everywhere. We would have hockey tournaments using one of those old stationary-player hockey games – two at a time, the winner talking on the next in line. These games were always in Mike’s basement, and I remember that we decided to play with a marble instead of the little plastic puck, which was fine until Mike’s parents redid the walls down there with this very nice wood paneling. There was this tendency for the marble to get stuck between two of the metal players on the board, and when it finally moved due to excessive force by one of us, the marble would take off like a rocket, bouncing off the new wood walls, leaving these round indentations, which we of course we did not notice. It didn’t take long for Mike’s mom to notice them. . .busted. Come to think of it, there were many memorable events that took place in Mike’s basement; the very first time we all heard Led Zeppelins’ “Stairway to Heaven” comes to mind!

In the ensuing years after high school, our friendship remained strong, even though we were no longer seeing each other every day for those walks to and from school. Some of us still played sports together, there were weekly poker games in Mike’s basement yet again, canoe trips, camping, skiing, cars, and other “recreational” activities. There were girlfriends, jobs, careers, weddings, children, divorces, loss, stepchildren, grandchildren, step grandchildren, relocation (myself in 1983, and again in 2005), and all the other things that transpire in one’s life, and that tend to make relationships and friendships become fond memories of years gone by. Not us. While all of the above certainly took place in all our lives, after 61 years, we can still get together on a Zoom call (as we will for Butch’s birthday on March 2nd), and after five minutes, it feels like we are back in Mike’s basement playing dealer’s choice and chastising one another for yet another ridiculous poker game with far too many cards that are wild!

Steve, Mike, Butch and I are very different people, bound together by our place in time, shared experiences, and an acceptance of each other for who we were, who we became, and who we are. And although we all have had very different careers, some more than others, there is one thing that we all have done either as our primary job or as an offshoot of a job, and that is teach. Butch was a high school teacher for many years, Mike has taught in his profession of dentistry, Steve has taught, and in fact is still teaching in the field of marketing, and I went back to school after a long absence, which eventually morphed into becoming a professor and then a high school English teacher after relocating to the US. This could be explained away as pure coincidence, but I have never put much stock into that word. For me, it is our shared experience of giving something of ourselves back to others. Although I can only speak for myself, I have a strong suspicion the others would agree that teaching has enriched my/our lives in so many ways, and hopefully it has also enriched the lives of the many students who dutifully listened to what I/we had to say. Of course, learning is a two way street, and a big part of my enrichment was what I learned from my students.

And now for the pendant pictured at the top. At some point in our teen years, we decided that we wanted something to “commemorate” our friendship. I cannot remember if one of us came up with the design, but it was our collective idea to have something made with our names and our birthdates. My father was in the jewelry business at the time, so I asked him if he knew anyone who could make something like that for us in sterling silver. Several weeks later, the pendants arrived. Looking back at this now, I wonder if we were thinking that a friendship like the one we had (still have) was going to be very different once we started going our own ways, and that the pendant would serve as a reminder of those years, a keepsake that would forever bond us together. While the sentiment, and perhaps the intended symbolism behind the pendant are certainly valid, as it turns out, it was not really needed. Because after all these years, we still have each other’s backs!

The last time the four of us were together in the same place was in Montreal in 2018 for our 50th high school reunion. Mike was on the organizing committee, and although it was a trek for me living in Los Angeles, there was no way I was not going to be there. It was also, for me, a nice break from pondering the question, “Now what?”, as I had retired earlier that year. For the three of them, it was reconnecting with people who had perhaps disappeared from their daily lives, although they all still lived in the same city. For me, who left Montreal in 1983, with the exception of my three buddies, I hadn’t seen most of the attendees in at least 50 years. The reunion was everything I hoped it would  be, and more.

1968 HS Grad/Prom– Mike, Butch, Steve, Irwin
2018 HS Reunion – Mike, Steve, Irwin, Butch

Mike, as it turns out, had a surprise for us at the reunion, and he asked us to all come over to his place, the basement of course, at some point that weekend. The surprise…A refurbished hockey game so we could pick up where we left off!

Mike and Steve            
Irwin and Butch

I am happy to report that there were no wooden paneled walls damaged in this reenactment of Hockey Night in Canada!

Los Angeles 2024