Wordplay Puts You in Your Place

Due to technical difficulties (a power outage lasting several days), Wordplay was unable to post last week and apologizes to anyone who may have been waiting on pins and needles to hear from us (and by us, I mean I). My neighborhood was not among the first in town to get our power back, but we were far from the last; a customer in the store today told me that he had just gotten his power back after 10 days. That makes my ordeal relatively minor in the scheme of things. I tried to use it as an opportunity to think about what I’d need to do if a longer-lasting disaster ever strikes, so it might not be altogether bad that it happened. We depend on our modern conveniences so much but take them for granted until suddenly they’re not there anymore.

Having said that, I guess it’s time once again to make the Wordplay disclaimer about what you can and cannot expect from the blog (and from me, as a person). This is not something I do because I don’t have a topic—rather, it’s a topic in itself and one I feel the need to revisit periodically. This is important because although I think my message on this has been consistent, I somehow keep getting challenged on it. At least, that is my sense of it.

In my quest to bring mythology and archetypal psychology to bear on everyday and cultural life, I’ve sometimes delved into current events and politics. I feel that a depth psychology lens is useful in making sense of these things. I’ve also used this lens (along with creative writing) to try to make sense of a number of bewildering things that have happened to me. There were times when I felt I was writing as fast as I could to save my life. If you think that’s an exaggeration, you haven’t really been listening. 

For a long time, I was desperate to get people to pay attention when I tried to say “something is really wrong here.” It seemed no matter what I said, no one reacted in what I considered an appropriate way, which was very odd. So I just kept writing. Someone said to me that she thought I needed to get some clarity on the situation. I’m not sure what she actually knew about any of it, but that was a helpful thing that she said. Once I started putting things into narrative form, I started to see connections between personal events that I hadn’t thought about before. Things began coming into focus, although I was a long way from total clarity (something that I still don’t have, although I’ve gotten the general outline).

When my writing became more revelatory, things changed. It was as if everything flipped upside down. People went from not taking me seriously enough to taking me too seriously in the wrong way. It was as if people thought I know things that I don’t know, unless I’ve figured them out just by thinking things through. Believe me, when your world turns upside down almost in a single day, you’ll understand the incentive a person has to make sense of previously inconceivable experiences. Your focus takes on a laserlike intensity because the survival instinct kicks in. Far from trying to save the world, I was trying to save myself, although if I inadvertently helped someone else in the process, I’m quite glad, of course.

What I’m saying is, I do not have any state secrets. I don’t (and never will) work for the CIA, the FBI, or any investigative agency, domestic or foreign. I’m not an undercover police officer or a private detective. I’m not an investigative journalist. I’m a writer, and I sell appliances at Home Depot to help pay the bills.

I wish I could tell you the number of times people have come into the store acting as if they thought I had some information to share with them. They’re so transparent sometimes. Everyone who does it acts as if they’re the first to come into my place of employment speaking in code and trying to insinuate that I owe them some information or that I’m not doing some job that I don’t even have. (The opposite is true: I feel that I am constantly being spied on and certainly harassed.) My best advice to them is that if they really are working in either espionage or some kind of investigative capacity, they are barking so far up the wrong tree that they’ve probably compromised themselves. If they’re just "citizen spies," as I get the impression some of them are, they’re not doing themselves (and certainly not me) any favors. If you haven’t actually gone to FBI school and completed the rigorous screening and training that I’m sure they go through, I don’t believe they would appreciate you setting yourself up as one of them. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if you hear from them on this at some point, because it is in fact a crime to impersonate an agent.

Sometimes, this is all very amusing, but mostly it’s just an endless hassle. I’m surprised sometimes that I’m actually sane, but I put that down to native stubbornness. The sad thing is, even though I think I’m an honest person (and usually perceived that way by others), I can’t seem to get people to accept that I’m really not anything other than what I appear to be. Yes, I’m a pretty smart person, with many skills and capabilities, but I’m also the person who couldn’t even get a job with the L.A. County Public Libraries, a large, understaffed urban library system with few frills and perks on offer other than what I really needed, which was simply a job in my field. If I’m so special, why couldn’t I even get an entry level job? (I’d probably still be in L.A. if I had gotten a job, though that would mean I’d never have met the people I work with at Home Depot. On the whole, I would very much have regretted missing that, though no thanks to the hiring geniuses of Los Angeles, thank you very much.)

People in general seem to have a much different sense of what has been going on with me over the last 14 years or so than I do. I can tell you that I wasn’t born yesterday and would never have agreed to go through what I have gone through if I had had any way of avoiding it. I’ve certainly become a lot more wary of people’s motives and less “starry-eyed” than I used to be. When I was fairly new at Pacifica, I had an opportunity to apply for a scholarship from some vaguely defined leadership organization but decided against it because there was something just too nebulous about them. Now I will barely even fill out a survey from a company I’ve done business with for fear of inadvertently signing my life away.

If you came to the blog this week for some exciting take on what’s out there in the culture, I’m sorry: this is 10 minutes of your life you can never get back. You may be asking yourself, “Why do I even read this blog; it’s not what I was expecting at all.” Well, I don’t know—why do you read this blog?

Sending Love to Iowa

I logged onto my iPad yesterday morning wondering how the Iowa caucuses had gone and spent a lively couple of hours reading news articles about how it all went down. I, along with most people, I guess, was expecting to see results first thing, and when I read about the app problem that prevented results from getting through, I figured it would be sometime in the afternoon, at the longest, before we heard anything. Election glitches are nothing new.

In the meantime, I read the news while trying to steer as clear as I could of pundits talking about “what’s broken” and “what a big mess everything is.” Admittedly, I was impatient to find out who had won, but I had the advantage of not having been tuned in the evening before when the caucuses were actually taking place, so I didn’t experience the anxiety and confusion that had unfolded in Iowa in real time. Apparently, nerves were worn to a frazzle (and no wonder) all around as people had to rely on trying to call in their results the old-fashioned way, only to be met with long wait times and hang-ups.

I read words like “debacle” and “disaster” and saw opinions expressed about how we were seeing the beginning of the end of the caucus process in Iowa, and I have to admit: my feelings were rather different. Granted, I was at a remove from it all in time and space, but as I looked at the photos and watched the videos of Iowans taking part in one of our country’s most important participatory processes, that of choosing the person who may be our next president, I was, more than anything, moved.

I was moved by the excitement I could see in people’s faces, by the conscientiousness with which they patiently navigated the ins and outs of the system, by the diversity of the Iowans themselves—including one precinct with largely Muslim constituents—and by the very public nature of the process itself. Nothing hidden or secret there, just people very openly and matter-of-factly sorting themselves into groups to support their preferred candidates. You could actually see democracy at work, right in front of your eyes. I don’t remember the last time I was so touched by anything having to do with politics, but I didn’t have a single sarcastic thought while I was watching the people of Iowa caucus. What I was really thinking was “This is what democracy is all about, and how wonderful for the people of Iowa to get to lead the way.”

From this you will see that I am sharply at odds with the people who keep moaning about what a disaster it all was. The only disaster I saw was in the app that didn’t work, and with the paper ballots completed by the participants, there seems to be no way the outcome will be in doubt once it’s known. I was actually wishing our state had a caucus, because to me there was something fundamentally satisfying about watching people show up with their friends and neighbors and then publicly sort themselves, declaring their candidate preference in front of one and all. There was something sort of New England town hall-ish about it all, democracy with a small d, right down there at the grass roots level. I was (if you don’t mind if I express an old-fashioned thought) just plain proud.

I think it’s wise for the officials in Iowa to take their time about checking the results to make sure that it’s all done properly. While it’s frustrating, it will not prevent everyone from moving on to the next contest. If anything good can be said to come out of it, it is perhaps the fact that the problem with the app was discovered in time to prevent another state, possibly without the easy visibility of the caucus system, from finding itself in similar circumstances with inadequate backup.

Personally, I think it would be a shame if Iowa gave up its caucuses over a piece of software. You guys just keep on keepin’ on, no matter what the experts say. There’s too much genuine joy and excitement in the system you’ve got, and if you can get Wordplay (as cynical as I am sometimes) to say so, you must be doing something really special.

Election Day Blues

Election Day was not a holiday for me, and I find myself here at the end of it a little tired and without a topic. Some people in the store today were talking politics, and while I at first gave my opinion freely, I later decided to stay out of it. I respect people having different opinions from mine and was actually rather envious of people who came into the store with “I Voted” stickers. It’s been a while since I felt sure enough of anything politically to be convinced I knew what I was doing when I went to the polls. The more I read and thought about things deeply, the more confused I got. Once I realized that figuring out people’s positions on the issues really wasn’t enough, and that people whose ideas were much like mine weren’t necessarily the best people to vote for for other reasons, I was both sadder and wiser but more clueless than ever.

I think I would have a difficult time teaching information literacy these days when it comes to politics. Perhaps it’s asking too much to expect people to read the politicians’s souls and see into their minds, and simply making a choice and voting for someone is the best you can do, but I feel I was a little too blithely unaware in the past when I developed enthusiasms for people, and “Once bitten, twice shy.” I felt that way about Bernie Sanders during the last election—I really liked a lot of his ideas and the things he stood for, but something would not let me be wholeheartedly enthusiastic. I was always waiting for the other shoe to drop, and this was despite the fact that I saw he was being treated unfairly by the media, especially early on. Any time Bernie Sanders is made out to be clueless on race relations, something he has been passionate about all his life, you know there’s a tremendous amount of spin going on. But I kept thinking, “What don’t I know about him? And not just about him, but all of them?”

One of these days, I’ll get back into full participation mode in our democracy, and I look forward to that happening. It’s not out of apathy that I have been hanging back, but rather out of literal fear that endorsing the wrong person would bring about tragic, irreversible consequences, and this is despite the fact that I know there are good people in both parties. It’s been a long time since I was that teenage girl whose dad drove her to the polls to vote in her first primary, so elated later on that fall to have voted for the winning candidate.

Dude Looks Like a Lady (Sorry, Aerosmith)

Did I hear somebody out there say, “Come on, Wordplay, show us some cultural mythological relevance by taking on Game of Thrones. No fair just sneaking by with a passing reference like you did last week. What’s your stand on the next ruler of Westeros?” I probably just imagined this, since it’s so rare for me to feel someone really wants to know what I think—but I’ll take you up on it anyway. It might interest you to know that I’ve been caught up in Game of Thrones myself lately, watching old clips and trying to figure out what happened in previous seasons when I wasn’t looking. Let me start out by disappointing you: I have no prediction vis-à-vis the Iron Throne. I have a few observations, though.

First, I’ll start with my lack of qualifications for doing this: I had never laid eyes on GOT before 2017, when I watched a few episodes and noticed how well done the show is. I hold to that: they should win awards for the opening credits alone, which are stunning. I missed all of the earlier seasons when precipitating events were happening and characters were maneuvering into place. Gotta say, not sorry I missed Joffrey Baratheon, Ramsay Bolton, and all the gory events of earlier seasons. As far as I know, the only episodes I saw were from Season Seven.

To wit: People were struggling across a frozen wasteland; there were battles with an unprepossessing fellow called the Night King; a queen named Daenerys killed a couple of fellows who refused to bend the knee by means of dragon’s breath; this same Daenerys got it on with a handsome fellow named Jon Snow; a dragon was killed; there was a good bit of screen time given to a family called Lannister, in which one guy was bonking his sister, and another family called Stark, which featured a scary little girl named Arya who assassinates people; and there was a spectacular breaching of a wall by means of what I believe was the dead dragon brought back to life by, I think, the Night King. Is that about right?

I got to see the opening episode of Season Eight but didn’t see last week’s episode. I could tell I’d gotten hooked by the fact that I spent so much time this week reading recaps of what happened on Episode 2 and watching retrospectives of previous seasons. GOT has a sprawling cast of personalities: there are many characters dead and gone from previous seasons who played a vital role in events that followed. I do not know the relationships of all these people to one another; I do not know the geography of Westeros, though I do know that Winterfell doesn’t look like a place where I’d want to hang my hat. Rather chilly, if you ask me, inhabitants and all. Oh, and there’s a good-looking guy named Rhaegar Targaryen who is Jon Snow’s real father (which everybody knows by now). But was he ever on the show or just seen in someone’s vision? Just one of many things I have no idea about.

I was occasionally struck by how much a character reminded me of someone I know, but that’s no big deal. It happens all the time. I’m not sure if the GOT creators are into drawing pointed parallels between events and characters on their show and events and people in real life—I believe that happens sometimes on television and in movies, but I’m not sure they’re doing it on GOT. I do find it amusing to entertain the possibility, though, and, of course, in the spirit of archetypal analysis, there are always parallels to be drawn, regardless of any premeditated intent on anyone’s part whatsoever. I’ve also become aware of the phenomenon of “fan theories,” in which the show’s fans propose explanations and outcomes that they believe fit the story’s arc to date. In that spirit, I am prepared to propose one of my own, which is this: Brienne of Tarth is really Donald Trump [and I have the photographic evidence to prove it].

I don’t really remember Ser Brienne from Season Seven: the Starks, Lannisters, and Targaryens were taking up too much oxygen, I guess, so if she was in there, she slipped past me. Brienne of Tarth was just knighted in the last episode by Jaime Lannister (the guy that bonks his sister), and based on what I’ve seen, I’m surprised no one thought of doing it before (knighting her, that is). This is a woman who is entirely credible as a warrior and is apparently well thought of by most people. She was once in a bathtub with Jaime, and I think the show is trying to imply there might be something between them, though as far as I know, there hasn’t been anything verifiable yet. (It was a big bathtub, so get your mind out the gutter, you weirdos.)

As to the Donald Trump connection, just look at this picture:

I took it from a satirical news piece by CNN’s Jeanne Moos on past presidential visits to Great Britain and was struck by the physical resemblance between President Trump and Ser Brienne. I might not have brought this up, except for the fact that I was reading some of the reactions from British officials about the president’s impending visit to their country and was actually, I must say, offended by the tone of some of their remarks. I told you a long time ago that I hoped President Trump meant to do good by running for office, despite appearances, and I am still hoping that might be true, despite having lost faith several times along the way. I’ve always believed he is smarter than many people think he is, and regardless of whether you like him or not, he is our president—the fact that this privileged son of wealth can talk to unemployed factory workers, good old boys and girls, and others outside the sanctioned arena of political correctness and People Like Us and gain their confidence ought, perhaps, to tell you something. If it doesn’t, it’s not my fault.

Back to those comments, though—I guess it was just the tone of indignant horror, the blaming of the president for all bad things that are happening in our country, that very British attitude of superiority from the Undisputed Arbiters of All Things Proper that got my American back up. How dare you talk about our president that way, you lily-livered pustules on the back of a rotten whoreson bag of wind. (Is that Shakespearean enough, do you think?) I mean, God Bless English Literature, but if that’s all you have to stand on, it has, after all, been a long time since Shakespeare. Hell, it’s even been a long time since Keats. It’s been a long time since Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Been a long time since Agatha Christie.

I suspect our president is up to anything the British might want to throw at him, so I’ll be looking forward to his visit with interest. I guess the accompanying question is, what will happen to the noble Ser Brienne of Tarth on GOT? Some of the fan theories have it that she will not survive the impending battle, so I guess the thing to do is to keep your eyes on her. I confess I hope to see her survive and thrive, though not, perhaps, to end up on the throne. That’s not a burden I would wish on anybody.

Now that I’ve totally upset the apple cart, I guess the next thing you’ll want to know is whether I personally identify with any of the characters on GOT. I will say that I’ve seen myself in several different characters and situations (remember, we’re good Hillmanians here, so we strive to be mindful that all of us play a variety of different roles day in and day out). However, there is one character I relate to more than the rest. Don’t worry, adoring public, I can hear you saying, “OK, smarty-pants writer, who is it?” Well, I’d rather not tell you—and I don’t think you’re going to be able to guess. And that’s all for this week.

Well, That Was a Mistake

Haven’t we been here before? I wasn’t going to watch President Trump’s State of the Union address because I didn’t have much enthusiasm for what he might say, but in the end, I felt it was my duty as a citizen (and also, I was a little curious to see the reactions of the others in the room with him). When I turned the TV on, the President was still shaking hands with people and hadn’t begun speaking yet. When he did begin speaking, I listened intently for a while before the “yada, yada, yada” just became too much, and I couldn’t take it seriously any more. Just one more politician full of pretty words and short on substance, and it’s a tragedy.

Since I was critical of President Obama when he was in office and didn’t hold back on what I thought, I think it’s only fair to say that having given President Trump the benefit of the doubt for a while, I’m no longer doing so. In fact, by the end of his speech, I was calling out to the people in the room with him, as if they could hear me, “Don’t believe a word he says!” Despite not agreeing with his rhetoric, tone, or policies, I had been hoping that the President was actually intending to use his power to achieve some good. But a long year has come and gone and I’ve seen nothing but events and actions that alarm me, so I’ve had to conclude that his story is, unfortunately, one of Might makes Right. Mr. Trump evidently undertook to become president for purely selfish reasons, and I don’t see a good end to this story.

I told someone last summer that I was hoping Mr. Trump’s presidency would run more along the lines of an Oskar Schindler story than Lord of the Flies—although it had already begun to resemble the latter. Having seen so many examples of people who looked OK on the outside but were no good inside, I was hoping that he might turn out to be someone who went against type and tried to accomplish something good despite looking like a blowhard. It would have made a much better story if the brash and egotistical businessman had turned out to be a doer of good deeds in disguise, but I’m afraid the only way I’m going to get an outcome like that is to write the story myself. It’s a pity, because it would have been such a good one had it turned out to be true.

I’m glad I watched the address because the contrast between what the President was saying and reality as I know it was so strong that the dissonance eventually became too much, and that was very telling. I had started to wonder what the President was up to when FBI Director James Comey was fired last spring, but since it was only a few months into his term, I decided to wait and see. That was a strange thing to do, it seemed to me, and the reasons Mr. Trump gave for doing it didn’t make any sense, but having been disappointed by politicians of my own party for so many years, I was hoping that someone else might have something to offer. Alas for that.

As in times past, I ended up creating an impromptu soundtrack to go with the address, though I only started doing it during the latter half, so it’s a fairly short one. I especially enjoyed holding the iPad screen up to the TV so that Jimi Hendrix was wailing on his guitar while Mr. Trump was speaking—probably the best split screen video pairing ever, though it may be just as well that poor Jimi isn’t around to see what the world has come to.

Here’s my set list:

Jimi Hendrix—“The Star Spangled Banner”
Simon and Garfunkel—“American Tune”
Dave and Phil Alvin—“World’s in a Bad Condition”
The Grateful Dead—“Touch of Grey”
Lorin Maazel, Sinfónica de Galicia—Mozart, Symphony No. 41 (“The Jupiter Symphony”)

Fighting the Battle We Know

A few days ago, I read about a book in which author Colin Woodard, a journalist, attempts to explain cultural divides in the United States by identifying the characteristic attitudes and beliefs of various regions. I haven’t read his book, American Nations: A History of the Eleven Rival Regional Cultures in North America, but the premise is fascinating. His theory not only identifies eleven cultural nations that make up North America but also explains how this affects political polarization. In case you had the idea that modern American life has been homogenized coast to coast to a monotonous sameness by pop culture, media, advertising, and commerce, Mr. Woodard is prepared to propose that underlying regional differences, some as old as our nation’s origins (and even older), are real and persistent and continue to shape our outlooks to the present day.

The eleven nations are Yankeedom (New England, the Great Lakes Region, and the Upper Midwest); New Netherland (New York City, Northern New Jersey, and environs); Tidewater (the Mid-Atlantic coast, including Delaware, Maryland, Virginia, and North Carolina); the Deep South (from South Carolina down and as far west as East Texas); Greater Appalachia (which begins in Pennsylvania and includes much of what I would consider the “Upper South,” as far as Texas); the Midlands (starting in New Jersey and encompassing much of the traditional Midwest); New France (centered in New Orleans and Quebec in Canada); El Norte (the Southwest, including Southern California); the Far West (stretching from the Southwest up into the Rocky Mountain states); the Left Coast (coastal Northern California, Oregon, Washington, and Western Canada); and First Nation (the vast territory of Native Americans, with most of its population living in Canada).

That’s it, as I understand it. The nations don’t stop at state lines, of course, so your state may feel the cultural pull of three or four different regions. Most people in Kentucky, where I live, probably think of Appalachia as a particular region in the eastern part of the state, but I agree with Mr. Woodard that its culture is very influential outside the mountains proper. I also think the presence of regions near Kentucky, including the Midlands and Deep South, can be felt here. No doubt Mr. Woodard covers cross-influences and other complexities in his book, but the article (by Business Insider’s Matthew Speiser) just touched on the highlights.

The most interesting aspect of the Eleven Nations idea is the underlying “personality” of each region. You would probably not be surprised to hear that Yankees value education and citizen participation in government, that people in the Far West tend to resent intrusions by the Federal government and outside corporate interests, that Tidewater was settled by aristocrats and continues to reflect some support for tradition, and that Left Coasters maintain a mix of Utopian ideas and a yen for creative expression. I was a bit surprised to see that Southern California belongs to El Norte rather than the Left Coast, which seems to indicate that Mr. Woodard views the hard-working values of Latino culture as taking the upper hand there (I have to think that L.A. is at the confluence of these two nations; it definitely seems part of the Left Coast to me).

I was surprised to see the Midlands described as being very culturally diverse and welcoming; in many areas, I’m sure that’s true, but I have always thought of certain parts of the Midwest as being very “white bread.” The United States is becoming increasingly diverse, so perhaps this is an outmoded notion of mine that is true no longer. I was also surprised to see that the Left Coast is supposed to include strong influences of both Yankeedom and Appalachia; I wonder if that’s actually how Left Coasters see themselves. If there’s truth in this, Appalachian culture in Kentucky is of a quite different variety than I have seen out west, being somewhat more “grounded.” I get the Utopian leanings and emphasis on self-development in a place like San Francisco, but I have always experienced it as much more caught up in fantasy and play than the down-to-earth concerns that are pervasive here.

Interestingly, New Orleans is one of those places that operates almost in a world of its own, a sort of anomaly in the conservative Deep South around it. I’ve only been to New Orleans once, but I have to say it struck me that way, as a place in which I sometimes marveled to think that I was in the United States at all. The culture of fast food, chain stores, and suburbia almost seemed non-existent in the face of a very distinctive cuisine, evidence of refined tastes in everything from shopping to architecture, and a pastiche of cultural influences. Similarly, South Florida, in Mr. Woodard’s scheme, is allied with Caribbean culture, not the Deep South. In my experience of having lived there, long ago, this is true. It’s the tropics; you have to travel north in Florida before you begin to feel that you are entering the South. To move from South Florida to Kentucky, for example, is to experience profound cultural shock.

I was trying to think of a way to line up these Eleven Nations with some sort of mythological idea peculiar to each, and I’m sure there is one, though it also seems to carry the danger of over-simplifying things. Sure, the Tidelands respect for established ways and authority is a very Zeusian thing, and the El Norte identification with hard work and self-reliance might be thought of as Hephaestian, and the New Netherland preoccupation with business and trade might fall into the realm of Hermes, but when I think of the region I live in and know best, it’s hard to think of just one entity that really covers it. If pressed, I guess I might go back to the patron saint of bourbon I imagined in a post from several years ago, a sort of plain-spoken Old Testament type with a penchant for cussing and spitting and fiery speech. I’m just not sure where he fits in the Greek pantheon, which despite its variety doesn’t quite supply a deity for every occasion you might think of.

Finally, Mr. Woodard explains that the most profound political influence coming out of the Eleven Nations is the conflict between Yankeedom and the Deep South, whose very different ideas and attitudes are tough to reconcile. It almost sounds as if we’re still fighting the Civil War, doesn’t it, at least on the political level, Blue against Red. With the nation becoming so much more diverse than it used to be, it’s interesting that this old dynamic is still so strong. The research I’ve done on political divisions indicated that polarization has increased over the last couple of decades, which means that there is an ebb and flow to it, and its strength is dependent on many factors. Perhaps the rapid rate of change has been partly responsible for the nation falling back on this earlier pattern of conflict; it’s certainly a fight we know. It surely seems possible that the influx of new groups and changing demographics might re-shape this conversation over time, though it might be a slow change. It seems to me that the United States, to all appearance a 21st-century nation, has never really healed from the battles of the 19th, and that it is holding us back more than we realize.

To put a mythological face on this aspect of it, Yankeedom’s values, in my mind, align most closely with Athena, goddess of wisdom and intellectual strategy. The values of the Deep South favor a fixed social structure and independence from government control, a sort of authoritarian, self-governing paradigm that speaks of Zeus. Zeus was the father of Athena, who supposedly sprang from his head fully grown, and in that sense perfectly fits the paradigm of this conflict the way I see it. The Deep South traditionally has had a patrician cast to it, and it makes perfect sense that it would resent any “upstart” attempts at influence from a perceived youngster, even if she is a chip off the old block—in some ways, that actually makes it worse. The Deep South rarely responds well to being told what to do, and Yankeedom has its own innate pride in its intellectual attainments and accomplishments. Nevertheless, there will always be goals these regions share, points of common interest, since they are part of the same country. Finding the place where their interests meet most closely seems like the place to start. Of course, that is easier said than done.

Rainy and Gritty

As much as we like to be timely at Wordplay, we have to admit to not having a clue as to the meaning of any of this week's political events. In fact, the longer I look at the political news, the more cross-eyed I get, and as to "seeing through" the week's events in a mythic sense, I'm leaving it alone. It's enough that I got caught in the thunderstorm of the year this afternoon while running errands and showed up in a government office downtown looking like a drowned llama.

The only thing I will say is that when President Obama was in his first term, I thought it ridiculous that people blamed him for not having the economy back in shape six months into his presidency. In fairness to President Trump, I'm extending the same benefit of the doubt, despite all the upheaval we're currently seeing and the fact that I disagree with many of his policies. It was such a tumultuous election that some of the dust hasn't cleared yet. I still think the archetype of a titanic struggle is the best description of the current political climate, but the faces of the giants are lost in the clouds.

And as to the thunderstorm: boy, what a doozy. I was driving east in heavy traffic when what had been a pouring rain turned into a full-on spring storm complete with dazzling lightning strikes to the southeast. I enjoyed the show, even though I was still sopping myself. I don't know why, but I seemed to see individual buildings along my route with exceptional clarity: they appeared to their best advantage in the rain, which softened everything just a little.

I realized there's something I like about the Winchester Road/New Circle Road area, even with its commercial and industrial flavor. I think it's because of the retro quality to the grittiness: the Parkette Drive-In is there, and the space-age winged roof of the Paul Miller Ford building, still extant amidst warehouses, storage companies, industrial concerns, small businesses, an Asian market, and a place advertising fresh ceviche. There's a handsome flatiron building that's been well restored on Winchester Road, a brick bakery famous for its doughnuts, and a few places that have seen better days mixed in with thriving businesses. As I passed the lighting store, I tried to remember if it was the location of the skating rink I remembered from my youth. I couldn't recall--it hadn't occurred to me to wonder in quite a while.

Maybe a sunny day shows up too much fading paint and too many harsh lines, whereas a rainy spring day gentles everything a little. There have been many changes to Lexington over the years I've been here, though some of the heavily groomed suburban areas reveal less of a timeline than Winchester Road does, with its wildly diverse mix of businesses, longer span of development, and lack of pretension.

I am not often out that way, but I used to travel it regularly, and probably it was bits of my own past I was seeing as I looked through my rain-flecked windshield and thought about the smell of peanut butter from the Jif factory, the way the campus office tower dominates the view as you approach town on U.S. 60, the futon place that is no longer around, the taste of a yeasty doughnut on a cold Saturday morning. Far from being a mere errand, it was a drive that celebrated memory.

Life's Perplexing Questions

Dost thou think, because thou art virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale? (Twelfth Night, II, iii)

Q. How do you clean a shower curtain?

A. With a scouring pad and white vinegar. If you do it regularly, you can probably get away with wiping it down while it's hanging up; if not, you'll have to take it down and scrub it in the bathtub, a real nuisance. Bonus hint: if you start a cleaning session with one ingredient, like vinegar, it's probably best to keep on with it until the whole bathroom is clean. That way, you don't have to spend time worrying about mixing chemicals and creating noxious gases. Life's too short for that.

Q. Why are bunches of kale so big? I bought some to make soup like you were talking about last week, but I had a boatload left over. What are you supposed to do with it?

A. Bunches of kale, much like bunches of celery, are sized more for families than for single hipsters. If you buy some for soup, you're probably going to end up making soup again to use up the rest of it (I don't know what else to do with it except to put it in soup; you could steam it, I suppose). My advice is: don't be shy about dividing the bunch in half the first time, because if you are, you'll end up with way too much kale for the second batch. There's always more of it than you think. The good news is, kale holds up well in soup and doesn't wilt away to nothing like some of your other greens.

Q. My boyfriend left me, and they don't allow pets where I live. I'm getting through the breakup OK, but it's just so cold and lonely when I go to bed at night. Any suggestions?

A. Get a hot water bottle, fill it with water as hot as you like it from the sink, and put it under the covers a few minutes before you go to bed. If you warm the place where your feet will go, you can then put the bottle itself against your back. Just make sure it's hot but not too hot. It may sound like something your spinster aunt would do--but it's sooooooo much better than it sounds.

Q. Which is better reading for a beach vacation, Jane Austen or the Bronte sisters?

A. What kind of a beach vacation are you planning? I find the Brontes more passionate and less concerned with convention. It's no slight to Miss Austen to say this, but I think her appeal is a bit more cerebral, more concerned with wit and conversational nuance. That kind of thing can get lost in the shuffle if you're surrounded by, say, several games of beach volleyball going on at once or a clambake/sing-a-long. At the same time, a Bronte novel (it doesn't matter which one) might seem too dark under the same circumstances. Personally, I would take either of them to the beach but only if it was a quiet one.

Q. I have a cafe habit but can't afford Starbucks. How can I have the same experience at home without buying an expensive coffeemaker?

A. I have made coffee using filters and the pour-through method that I then mixed with milk and syrup, but it's kind of a hassle. Buying those little bottles of Frappuccino at the store also works and is fairly economical if you drink them sparingly. Pop the top and pour.

Q. I hate to dust. Is there any way to make it more enjoyable?

A. Putting music on makes most things in life more tolerable. When I was in library school, I did cataloging homework to the accompaniment of heavy metal at least once. For some reason, it created the right energy. For dusting, I like bossa nova. I also suggest clearing off your shelves so that you have fewer things to move when you dust.

Q. I'm a Democrat, but I have a crush on a really cute Republican girl. My family and friends keep saying it will never work, but I'm just wondering . . . is interparty dating ever OK?

A. Actually, I believe you may be the wave of the future. Political stratification is pulling the country apart, and anyone who's bucking the trend is to be commended, in my opinion. Ask the girl out, and see what happens. What debates, elections, and political commentary can't fix, maybe hormones can.

Q. When Chuck Berry died this week, I was in a quandary. I liked his music, but people were talking about the trouble he had with the law. How do you mourn someone in a case like that?

A. I'm not sure I can give you a precise answer. I ended up doing the thing I always do, which was to look up information about Mr. Berry and try to make sense of it all, the incredible talent and contribution to American culture mixed up with the transgressive tendencies. I will say that I think it's hard to be a pioneer, like Mr. Berry was, a black man making inroads into white culture in a segregated time, not that that excuses wrongdoing. However, if any aliens from another civilization ever do come across the Voyager spacecraft, his may be the first human voice they hear, a signal honor for him. There is one way in which this seems entirely appropriate to me. Mr. Berry did a lot in his own way to bring people together.

Q. How do you clean wood floors? Doesn't water warp them?

A. Thank goodness for an easy question. I use a dust mop and only apply a damp mop lightly for touch-ups. Some people say to wax them, but if I did that I'd only slide around on them.

Q. I want to start my own blog. Is it hard?

A. No, but there's no money in it. You'll need a day job. And people will ask you these vexing questions.

Not the Kraken

I have somehow arrived at Thursday evening without a topic. Usually when this happens, something occurs to me if I just look at my screen long enough, but tonight nothing is jumping out at me. I've considered and discarded at least five topics, which is highly unusual. I think part of the problem is that I'm so stunned by what I read in the news every day that I hardly know what to say about anything. We've gone from a situation in which things on the surface seemed unremarkable (i.e., no more dysfunctional than usual)--though there were plenty of signs of unease at a deeper level--to one in which the unease is not only on the surface but growing stronger day by day.

Is this an improvement? It doesn't seem to be. I always hoped that there was a method to the madness behind Mr. Trump's theatrics, but if there is, I don't know what it is. It all seems so incoherent. Is this simply the result of a new administration led by a non-politician trying to find its feet? Is it going to get better? I don't know. I hope so. 

I will say that when the FBI director announced just before the election that new material had been uncovered relating to Hillary Clinton's email case and then announced shortly afterward that nothing noteworthy had been found that I was puzzled along with everyone else but not so inclined as many to condemn what he did. I assumed he must have had a reason for doing it. He didn't strike me as someone who would take such an action, knowing the effect it would have so close to the election, merely to play politics. I see him as a more serious sort of person than that. 

People are rightly questioning what role Russia (or some other entity) may have played in the outcome of the election, though my understanding is that some U.S. officials think it's nothing unusual for interference like this to occur. James Comey, by the same token, was roundly criticized for making an announcement about potential new evidence in the Hillary Clinton case and possibly changing the trajectory of the race. So here's my question: Do people think Director Comey is working with the Russians? Was he just whistling Dixie? Did he do what he did for no good reason? 

I've been unhappy with many of the actions of the new administration, which don't reflect what I think we ought to be doing as a country. Many of the president's Cabinet choices are downright mystifying, even when you try to give them the benefit of the doubt as I sometimes have. I don't follow the president's tweets, because so many of his statements are so odd that they might as well be written in a different language. If there are grown-ups in the house, I would be hard pressed to identify most of them--but in my view, that was also true of the last administration. I'm not sure when the last time was, really, that we had good leadership in the Oval Office. Do you think Donald Trump is the sole cause of all our ills? I don't, because he's only been in office for a month.

Is something slouching towards Bethlehem to be born? Is there no balm in Gilead? Do I dare to eat a peach? I think you'd have to be in a comatose state not to be concerned about what's going on in Washington, but my sense is that it's been building for quite a while, that a cumulation of ills is coming to a head. If Mr. Trump has a remedy, he's showing no signs of it. If someone else does, they're showing no signs of it either. We've gotten used to people doing things in a certain way in Washington, and now we have someone who seems to relish the creation of Chaos.

Hesiod tells of Chaos being the first of the gods, followed by Gaia, the foundation. Chaos gave birth to Night, and Night gave birth to Day, which shows, I suppose, that you can't always judge the end by the beginning. I just hope someone has a better plan than simply, "Release the Kraken." I can't imagine what that would look like in today's world, and I don't want to find out.

Wordplay Says "Auld Lang Syne"

When I started this blog in January 2010, I was beginning my dissertation, so Wordplay was one of two creative ventures occupying my thoughts. I saw it as a sort of journal accompanying my dissertation research and writing; sometimes I worked out my thoughts in the blog and later went back to see what I had written once I was deeper into the research. Besides that, though, it was a way to put into practice what I'd been taught--how to look at the world through a mythic lens. I was very excited about it then and still am. When I talked to people about depth psychology and mythology, it usually seemed to strike some kind of a chord, and I felt a wider audience might also be receptive . . . so that's how Wordplay came about. I was having fun with what I was doing and thought I'd have even more fun writing about it.

At some point, I wrote a description of the blog that included a lot of the "descriptors" or buzz words that I thought would help people find it, but when I read that summary now (whether or not it helps in search results) it seems too wordy. If you were to ask me now, I'd just tell you that, pure and simple, this is a blog about the mythology of everyday life. The idea that ordinary life, and not just the doings of legendary figures from the distant past, is the material of mythology was one of the most exciting ideas I ever came across, and I think other people have also found that to be true.

Reading mythic texts from various traditions with a depth psychological eye was one thing; we spent a lot of time on this in my program, and it was a transformative experience. Learning how to look at the present-day world to see the myths and archetypes underlying current events was something else, at least for me. With an English degree in my background, I'm used to analyzing literary texts and can talk about the archetypes of any given book or film with a fair degree of comfort. But it seemed to me that for a degree in myth studies to be useful, it would have to encompass more than academic and literary subjects: it would have to provide insight into the world we live in.

The concept of reading events for meaning the same way one reads a literary text takes great skill, in my opinion, and subtlety--a certain amount of fearlessness doesn't hurt either. After all, real life moves and flows and doesn't stay still; it's not fixed on a page. There is no way to "prove" that one's reading of a particular event or phenomenon is "the" correct one, and chances are there are other ways of looking at the same event that are just as useful. We learned the term mythopoesis in my program, which to me means looking at the world the same way you look at a poem. In other words, you're alive to not only what's in front of you, the actual "words on the page," but also the implications of the words, the story that unfolds in between, beneath, and around them. This requires intuition and understanding; knowing what's there is only the first step.

Reading the world mythopoetically is complicated by the fact that, based on my experience anyway, it's often hard to know what the facts are. On any given day, I can read the news and think, "Hmmm, is that what really happened, or is that just what someone said happened?" It's much easier to read events when you know what they are, which may sound like a truism, but as recent events on the U.S. political scene have shown us, basic facts are often in dispute. Much of the news is colored by assumptions and written from a certain point of view. I'm firmly in favor of people expressing their opinions, but first I want to know what the facts are so that I can form my own opinion.

That brings me to an unexpected role I sometimes find myself playing on this blog, the role of mythojournalist. This happened because I often searched in vain for news sources that seemed to dig deep enough and connect the dots between events. Sometimes the what would be there but not the why; often, even the what would be hard to discern in a sea of opinion and misinformation. If an event left me scratching my head, I tried to understand the implications behind it. I certainly never pictured myself as a crusading journalist (book reviews and a little humor are more in my line), but my forays into mythojournalism were born of frustration. I often felt something was missing in other people's reporting, and I tried to fill in the gaps. After all, politics, business, and world affairs are a part of everyday life, too.

And speaking of trying to read events, I feel that our nation, and perhaps the world, is actually in a bit of a precarious position at the moment. I had hoped that when the election was over, things would seem calmer, but that hasn't happened. There's a lot of name-calling and saber-rattling and plenty of people ready to point the finger at anyone but themselves, and if you want me to say what I think the problem is, I'll give you my opinion: I think our nation has a deep unwillingness to look at its own shadow. This translates into: "We are pure; it's other people who have problems."

We seem to be sliding by degrees closer and closer back to a Cold War, which I don't suppose anyone views as desirable. I'm an American, and I support the Constitution, but still I find myself wondering: what's behind all the hostility between Russia and the United States? Is it barely possible that Russia has some legitimate concerns, too, as I have heard one or two American officials suggest? Does it really have to be "us or them"? I don't know who hacked the DNC, and I sincerely hope we find out, but even the facts of the who, what, when, where, and why seem to be in dispute. There are plenty of opinions being expressed, though, and since most of us have been taught to fear Russia, there seems to be a lack of balance to some of the coverage. I'm not saying that allegations of hacking and interference shouldn't be taken seriously; I'd merely like a little more light and less heat.

I will tell you that long ago, when I worked for a newspaper, I was assigned to write a Newspaper in Education supplement on Russia. This was right after the fall of the Soviet Union, and the supplement was meant to give students some background on Russian history. I didn't know much about Russia before I started, and as the country has over a thousand years of history, I feel that what I did merely scratched the surface--but I did come away from the project with a sense of respect for the Russian people, who have survived many difficult periods and apparently have great resiliency. It's a huge country, with many borders to defend, just like the United States. I am neither defending nor condemning Russia, but I am wondering what their point of view is in all the recent fracas. And I'm still not entirely sure I understand what happened in Ukraine.

Once you start looking at the world mythopoetically, your capacity to see things from more than one point of view increases, which I hope is a good thing and not a bad thing. Being understanding of someone else's viewpoint should tend to increase the chances of solving conflicts, not make things worse, according to my understanding of conflict resolution. I'm sincerely hoping there's a willingness on all sides to be honest and open about the real issues, as it seems to me that the world is much too small for this kind of conflict to be a good thing.

Well, six years of Wordplay, and there's much more to come, I hope. Perhaps someday soon I'll be able to get back to more lighthearted subjects, though I reserve the right to speak up on any subject if I feel the need. One thing I can tell you for sure is that Joseph Campbell was right: mythology is a call to adventure, though as is the usual way of things, the adventure may be different from what you imagined it to be. I was a writer without a topic before I started my study of mythology, and that blew my imagination wide open. It also helped me discover some personal qualities I didn't quite know I had. If you're feeling an interest in it yourself, my only caution is to be prepared: once you open your mind, things never quite look the same way again.

Essay on Color

I've been watching the news this week with interest, as I usually do, albeit it has been more entertaining than usual, with all the comings and goings at Trump Tower. Some people have been highly critical of the president-elect for creating such a spectacle with his pre-presidential planning and Cabinet interviews, but I've got to say that I personally have found it riveting. I don't mind a little flair, if that is someone's style, despite my own preference for low drama.

Before you remonstrate, I just want to point out that we've had any number of presidents-elect who've conducted their planning with absolutely complete fidelity to decorum who turned out to be duds once they actually inhabited the White House. So my thinking is, might not the reverse also be true: couldn't someone who colors outside the lines in the beginning (and possibly throughout) have more to offer than it appears? I don't know if this is the case, but I hope it is. I do know that I was laughing about reports that Mr. Trump spent Thanksgiving weekend asking people who they thought should be secretary of state. If that's not a true story, it ought to be.

In the face of all the hand-wringing, prognostications of disaster, CNN anchors practically in tears, and at least one Democratic senator having a conniption over a Trump advisor, I suppose you think the least I can do is offer some sort of mythic interpretation that helps make sense of the unfamiliar landscape we're in. The story that comes most vividly to mind with Mr. Trump is a Yoruba tale about Eshu, the divine trickster, who brought two neighbors to fisticuffs by walking between their fields wearing a vari-colored cap that looked different depending on which side you viewed it from. When the neighbors started fighting about the color of the cap, Eshu made sure to walk past them again going the opposite way, just to maximize confusion and ensure that they were hopping mad. *

You may be thinking, yes, well, it's always been obvious that Mr. Trump is a trickster, and we'll all be the worse for it. That may be, but Eshu, at least, is a character with a purpose: he creates discord in order to tear away the surface appearance of things and let the light of the divine shine through. Whether Mr. Trump has any similar designs or not is something we'll have to wait and see. You probably find the notion laughable, but I'm not altogether sure what he intends.

Since I've been a letdown to you on the Stop Trump front, maybe now you'll let me get on to what I really want to write about, which is what a glorious day it was today. Since we went back to Eastern Standard Time, I've been rearranging my days to get the full benefit of daylight as winter approaches. I went out for a walk in the middle of the afternoon one day last week and was stunned at how beautiful the light was. In this season and at that particular hour, it was so cool and clear that it looked like morning light.

Since then, I've been going out at various times and have seen the light at different angles. This afternoon it was like a holiday just to be out in the sun, to watch all those puffy clouds adrift in cerulean blue and to consider the colors of the trees, gone now to a more somber end of the spectrum in most cases but still stunning, with bursts of bright red and yellow punctuating the browns and russets. It's as if you got to the crayon box and someone had taken out the popular colors, the aquas and the violets and the hot pinks, and you were left with the burnt siennas, the ochers, and the chartreuses. If you stop and look, though, it's wonderful how well they look all mixed up together against a blue sky.

I thought a few weeks ago that it would be hard to beat the late afternoon light hitting the tops of the trees and turning them to flame at sunset, but taking walks at different times of the day has been a revelation. I've noticed a pair of trees that I've passed thousands of times without ever appreciating the unusual shade of red they exhibit, something that is only apparent in stronger light. I thought about it today and realized that it's like the color of ripe summer fruit, like fresh strawberries, a bit incongruous for December, maybe, but that's what it looks like. When the sun goes behind a cloud, the light goes flat and you don't see the colors at their best advantage. Being on foot, as opposed to driving by, also helps you slow down enough to appreciate the subtle beauty of the late fall to early winter transition.

I startled two robins down by the creek today and watched them flutter off. I passed maples and oaks, evergreens and hollies, magnolias and ginkgos and numerous others. I heard the wind in the leaves and spotted many nests in partially bare branches. I enjoyed the crisp air. I thought about the old saying, "In December, keep yourself warm and sleep." There's some wisdom to this, but there's also something to be gained by going out to meet the day, especially when it's as beautiful as today was. A little Vitamin D is never amiss, and you can always have hot chocolate afterward.

* (Source: "Legba and Eshu: Writers of Destiny" in Robert D. Pelton's The Trickster in West Africa: A Study of Mythic Irony and Sacred Delight)

What's Hubris Again?

Here in post-election America, life goes on, as it usually does, and Starbucks is filled with just as many earnest conversations conducted at ear-splitting levels as it was before. I don't know what compels people to believe that what they have to say is So Vitally Important as to override the rules of common civility, but there it is: that's what ear plugs are for. I've made liberal use of mine lately.

Even with all the hubbub at the coffeehouse this afternoon, I finished the book I was reading, Thomas Moore's The Soul's Religion, which I've been reading off and on for a while now. One of the book's themes is the author's idea of the importance of bringing religion and secular life together--not in the sense of imbuing society with the trappings of any particular faith but by way of encouraging people to cultivate a sense of connection to "all of life" through ordinary, purposeful living. In other words, the way to the sacred lies in everyday life.

Mr. Moore describes his complex relationship to Catholicism and his sense that organized religion best serves as a backup to a profoundly individual exploration of soul and spirituality. He touches several times on the point that institutions dedicated to serving people's spiritual needs are no more immune to hubris and misuse than any other endeavor; in fact, they have their own particular problems with overreach and abuse of power. I think Mr. Moore has more faith than I do in the positive effects of shared, communal religion, but he clearly sees the connection between over-reliance on authority and loss of authenticity and self-determination. He points out the special hazards that passive submission to institutional agents, strictures, and systems of belief can bring--spiritual leaders have their own brand of bullying that relies on people's faith to take advantage of them.

This discussion of the need to question the motives, methods, and effects of religious authority is important. I think it extends to all institutions, whether they are political, educational, medical, governmental, financial, or otherwise. Believing that matters affecting you are too complex for you to understand and that therefore someone else must know better is giving someone else too much power. Our society is set up to require participation from citizens. The ability to even form an opinion in the first place requires you to stay informed at at least a minimal level.

It may seem ironic that having said all this (and actually believing it), I was unable to pick a presidential candidate in this year's election, but not making a choice is also a decision. I'm familiar with the idea that it's often necessary to hold your nose and push one button or the other, but I have more sympathy now with the notion of withholding support as also being a powerful choice. Being uncommitted at the polls in no way negates the other citizen obligations of staying informed and holding those in power accountable.

I tend to distrust institutions, despite knowing that they're necessary and can accomplish good things. Big institutions accrue power, and power corrupts, as Lord Acton has told us. I'm often sorry to see someone I admire throw their hat into presidential politics because I think it takes an exceptional person to resist the temptations of the office (the same thing is true of all positions of high authority, of course, from senators to Cabinet officials). I think our system of government is a pretty good one, but as our country has grown from a young upstart into the most powerful nation in the world, the power it wields has grown exponentially, and the need to find the best people we can to wield that power is more important than it ever was. Not that we always succeed, or should expect that we will.

To go back to Mr. Moore's discussion of the Church, it's instructive to consider how a movement that began so simply, with one man who influenced others profoundly with his teachings, has grown into a huge hierarchy of enormous wealth, tremendous spiritual authority, and great temporal power. People will argue that such a structure is necessary to administer the Church's activities around the world, and that may be, but I'm always struck by the profound difference between what it started out to be and what it is now. There's something in the enormity of the institution that seems to work against the simplicity of the original teachings. If it essentially boils down to "Do Unto Others," then what's all the pomp and circumstance for?

Likewise, our government: It's "We, the people," right? I understand that we give symbolic weight to the rituals, procedures, ceremonies, buildings, and other accoutrements of our governmental institutions because they represent our society's important ideals, and I'm OK with that. A great idea like democratic society deserves a good display. But the display is never more important than the thing itself, and institutions that don't serve their purpose shouldn't be respected just because they wear the face of respectability. Are they living up to their ideals, more or less? That's all I want to know.

Speaking for myself, it's a relief to be done with robocalls, yard signs, and opinion masquerading as news (actually, I guess we're never free of that). The outcome has resulted in protests and a renewed discussion of the Electoral College, which is all to the good. The election itself was only the beginning of something new, and it ushered in at least one significant change: the president-elect has never held political office, and although he has headed a powerful organization, he's coming from the world of business (and entertainment), not the world of government. Many people have been wanting a change like this for a long time, even if Mr. Trump wouldn't have been their first choice, and it will be interesting to see how a business leader takes on the office of president. One thing you can say about Mr. Trump: he knows how to take center stage.

I Dreamed of Hibiscus

In Biblical times, dreams were apparently taken far more seriously than we take them today. They were considered revelatory and even prophetic; to act on the basis of a perceived message or warning in a dream was not considered foolish, but wise. I've heard stories of many modern people, most of them quite rational, who also believe that some vital information or answer to a problem came to them in a dream, and I have no trouble believing it. I've sometimes been surprised at a dream that seemed to reveal knowledge I had about a person or situation that I wasn't at all conscious of at the time I had the dream. "How did I know that?" is no longer a question I ask. Wisdom comes to us through a variety of experiences that we file away but don't entirely forget.

I had a very vivid and colorful dream this morning, and I'm sharing it because I think it encapsulates what I think of as the spirit of the times, at least as I see them. I'm not the Oracle of Delphi--I think the same information is available to all of us, but maybe I have more training in dealing with my intuitive side than many people do. I'm not afraid of it, as I think some who value logic and pure reasoning above all else sometimes are. Our society tends be weighted more towards thinkers than feelers, as I understand it. I don't think of the type of intelligence represented by dreams and intuition as irrational but rather as just another type of knowledge, another source of information to take account of. In fact, at its core, intuition is probably rational knowledge based on sources of information you weren't entirely aware of when you picked them up, simple as that.

The order of events in the dream is a little confused in my mind, but I'll start with the part in which a friend suddenly appeared outside the door of my building. I was quite surprised to see her, and she told me she thought I had moved. Apparently, there had been a letter that I hadn't answered, and she had told me about her intention to visit. The joy at seeing a friend was tempered by a sense that there was some confusion or misapprehension on her part about what I had been doing with myself.

We went inside, and there was a restaurant on the first floor, where we spent some time placing an order at the counter. Up a steep flight of steps, there was a room with a large bed in it. My friend, who had a couple of people with her, one of whom may have been her husband, got into the bed and sat there chatting with me as I sat at the side, partially covered by a blanket. I believe there was also someone standing next to me. I wondered whether I should go to bed, too, but instead, I got up and started pointing out the features of the room, the color of the walls, which were a soft peach, the beautiful, gleaming hardwood floors, which had evidently received a recent coat of varnish (prompting some laughter when I pointed it out), and some rays of sunlight that touched the floor in a couple of places.

The room was pleasant but rather empty. I looked out the window and saw the yard outside, and after that, I seemed to be by myself for a short interval, floating above a canopy of tropical flowers and foliage, as if there were a conservatory on an upper floor and I was hovering over it. There were a number of red flowers similar to hibiscus, and I saw a large spider walk over one of them before climbing down a wall to the floor. As I floated down the aisle, I saw that there were quite a few of these large spiders walking on the foliage.

After that, I confronted my friend and told her that I didn't believe we were where she said we were at all. I didn't entirely blame her for the confusion, but I felt it was important to clear it up as a sort of Matrix type of fluidity of space and time was occurring that was very disorienting. At that point, we were outside, standing on a street with some commercial buildings nearby, as if we were in the outskirts of a town. A few other people were standing about, as if some public event were taking place, and though the scene looked more like suburban Louisville than anything else, I told my friend very firmly that she was wrong: we weren't at my apartment building, we were in Texas.

There were other parts of this dream in which I was in a hair salon (hair salons and appointments to get my hair cut are a recurring theme in recent dreams), but that's basically the gist of it. The overriding tenor of the dream was an awareness of multiple versions of reality being presented at a rapid-fire pace and a reluctance to accept someone else's version over my own.

If you're wondering why I said this dream is an emblem of the times, you must not be paying much attention to the news, for, of course, in an election year, one does hear multiple claims of truth-telling, the problem being that they mostly conflict with one another. I often get the sense when perusing the news that various viewpoints are actually screaming for my attention; I just consider what makes sense and refrain from rushing to judgment. I consider that some of what I read is true but not all of it, which is but stating the obvious. This is no doubt the way it is all the time, but this year the process seems to be in overdrive, with two major party candidates anathemic to large portions of the public having risen to the top.

There is also a sense in which this dream is personal, of course, and I don't consider that any less important than the collective aspect of it. Personal and collective seemed to very intertwined in this dream, but I won't bore you with any analysis of what my dream means to me personally. That's a story for another day. If you insist on a summation of what message there might be in this dream that's of any help to anyone, it might be, "Well, enjoy the flowers, but don't overlook the spiders. And actually, don't make too many assumptions about the relative merits of flowers and spiders. They could both be iffy."

OK, the anti-oracle has spoken. Now back to our regular programming.

Your Life as a Pop Song

It was such a beautiful afternoon in the park, with almost everything blooming, or beginning to, and I practically had the place to myself. There were redbuds, cherry trees, lilacs, viburnum, tulips, and--on the road leading up to the parking lot--a whole bank of daffodils. Although spring came early this year, it has backtracked a little, so that although everything looks like Easter, the air is chilly. Skies were cloudy this afternoon and threatened rain, and I was wearing my down jacket, but still, I have to say, it was lovely in the arboretum. I hummed a couple of show tunes from My Fair Lady.

I guess the big news this week is the Panama Papers, which could even turn out to be the story of the year. Those who worked on the investigation dubbed it the Prometheus project, which seems to acknowledge their sense of its importance. Prometheus, of course, was the god who gave the gift of fire to humanity and then had hell to pay for it from the other gods. I was thinking about that as I walked around this afternoon.

The first thing I noticed about the initial list of countries whose leaders were named was that it didn't include the United States. I'm just not sure that's going to hold up. I was glad to see a couple of U.S. senators calling for the Treasury Department to investigate possible links between U.S. entities and the Mossack Fonseca law firm. Interesting that they didn't seem to feel that the Justice Department probe, which has already begun, was enough--and I suppose they have their reasons. In a letter to the Treasury secretary, they cited the need to investigate individuals or entities with possible links to terrorism or money laundering who may be sanctioned by the Treasury Department. It sounded to me like they had something in mind already.

People sometimes talk about American exceptionalism and America's place in the world as if wrongdoing is something that only happens in other places, but don't you think that people in China, Russia, and other places sometimes shake their heads about things they hear about us? The thing about exceptionalism is that you actually have to be exceptional, not just say you are. It's one thing to live by your principles and another to get by on your looks. When it comes to the heroes and villains of this piece, we may all be surprised. It's also true that some of the people whose names are being thrown around now may end up being exonerated.

I was interested to see the list of news organizations involved in the project and noted that although the McClatchy newspapers were included, others, such as The New York Times, weren't. In my experience as a consumer of news, there do seem to be biases evident in the reporting of many major news sources, including The New York Times. There are people I wouldn't trust with sensitive information, especially in light of the fact that free press in America hasn't thrived under the last two administrations, making any investigative reporting that could expose American players very risky. (The U.S. is ranked 49th in the 2015 Reporters Without Borders World Press Freedom Index, a poor showing for a country that should be at the top.)

I think you get a mix of good and bad reporting across the entire range of media, and I wouldn't necessarily exclude McClatchy, the BBC, or anyone else from biased reporting. Perhaps the International Consortium of Investigative Journalists had a sense of which reporters it could trust, or perhaps part of the project was a test to find out. I'd be surprised, too, if attempts hadn't been made to hack the ICIJ servers, which could in itself be revealing. It will probably take this story some time to unwind, and there are undoubtedly many revelations ahead.

Well, that's a pretty heavy topic for an April day, so maybe I should end this post on a lighter note. I hope this isn't too awkward a segue, but I wrote about politics last week, and I've been thinking a lot about the personalities of the presidential candidates. I had some fun trying to pick a song that I associate with each of the five remaining in the race and imagining myself as the campaign manager who decides what gets played as the candidate bounces onstage (a whimsical thought--no campaign manager would ever select some of these songs). None of them are from My Fair Lady, but that doesn't mean anything. I had second thoughts about one or two of them, but I think I'm going to go with my first choice, because you can overthink these things.

Are you on the edge of your seat? Oh, come on, you know you totally are. Here it is, just for fun, as an antidote to the Panama Papers--Your Life as a Pop Song.

Donald Trump: The Eagles--"Take It Easy"

Ted Cruz: Peter Gabriel--"Sledgehammer"

John Kasich: Paul Simon--"Me and Julio Down by the Schoolyard"

Hillary Clinton: Paul McCartney & Wings--"Live and Let Die"

Bernie Sanders: Steve Miller Band--"The Joker"

Musing on the Newsing

Are y'all reading the same news I am? I'm just asking, because when I read the stated opinions of pundits, public officials, celebrities, voters, foreign dignitaries, and ordinary folks, I sometimes wonder how all of us can be looking at the same events and drawing such different conclusions. That's if people are being really honest and totally truthful in the things they're saying, because, you know, I sometimes suspect people of being disingenuous. No, really. I sometimes think, from their manner and the way they say things, that there's a certain amount of meta-narrative going on. If so, these folks are apparently going to a lot of trouble for nothing, because I'm not sure how much others are noticing it. Of course, some of that ignorance could be disingenuous, too. (Uh-oh, now we're really going down the rabbit hole.)

Take the election, for example. I've discussed my views on the Democratic candidates before, but I was reluctant to say much about the Republicans because I couldn't make head or tail of what was going on over there. Here at Wordplay, we have a rule that says, "First, do no harm." I was seriously afraid of putting my foot in it if I tried to analyze the situation prematurely--there was obviously something out of the ordinary happening, and it was eluding me. But don't conclude from that that I haven't been watching the candidates and noticing what they've been doing. Far from it. Here at Wordplay, we may have our own point of view on things, but we care about everybody. Believe me.

Someone was talking to me about Donald Trump last summer, telling me his reasons for supporting him, and I was skeptical. This person even expressed some concern over Mr. Trump's safety, to which I replied, "But people like that can take care of themselves." His response was, "Not necessarily." I really wasn't sure what he was talking about. I had, however, been keeping up with the news on Mr. Trump and was surprised to find that I liked his sense of humor, which I first noticed when he gave out Lindsay Graham's telephone number. I am still in stitches over that one (I trust it's OK to say that, because Senator Graham himself seemed to respond in good humor).

I would be laughing over something Mr. Trump said and then find myself alarmed (and puzzled) several hours later by some inflammatory statements he made about immigrants, Muslims, or some other matter. I am not altogether certain what he really means by some of the things he says, and this is what I mean by meta-narrative. It's clear that no one truly serious about becoming president should be quoting Mussolini or talking about punching people. On the other hand, I do not think Mr. Trump is a buffoon. I'm certain he has a motive for the things he does, though it's not easy to say what that might be. I've occasionally had the thought that Mr. Trump says things that other people would never dare to say, though in reality they have probably done much worse. Could he be slyly suggesting that? I don't know.

I don't think Mr. Trump is a saint, but I don't necessarily believe everything that people say about him. I suspect he may be rather different than many people think he is. Take for instance, the whole kerfluffle about Heidi Cruz and Melania Trump. People have been talking about how embarrassing it is and how bad it makes the Republicans look in front of everybody, etc. Call me irresponsible, but I don't believe for an instant that either Mr. Trump or Mr. Cruz spoke without realizing how their remarks would sound to people. I'm just not buying the quarreling schoolboys thing.

In trying to "see through" this event, as James Hillman advises us to do, I started looking up information about Melania Trump (I already knew a little about Heidi Cruz). Personally, I find it hard to believe that anyone, including Mr. Trump, was truly shocked that a racy photo of Mrs. Trump in GQ emerged as an issue in the Utah primary. Utah voters tend to have conservative standards, which is fine, and should come as a surprise to nobody. So what was all the yelling about? In reading biographical data about Mrs. Trump, I found out a lot of things I didn't know about her and stumbled across a description of the photo. That was the moment I started to wonder about that picture.

I hadn't seen the picture, but the description said she was photographed in Trump's private jet, stretched out on a rug (to be precise, a bearskin rug) and chained to a briefcase. (I just looked the picture up to verify this. Heck, it's all over Utah, thanks to Ted Cruz or whoever did it (I'm not taking a stance on that), so I don't feel I'm making a bad situation any worse. To tell you the truth, I was bothered from the first time I read the description, though maybe not for the same reason the voters in Utah were. The photo came out in British GQ in 2000, and I'm just thinking it doesn't make for good optics; I dunno, maybe it's just me, but someone chained to a briefcase, in a jet, in a scene speaking of opulence and wealth. Just not good optics, to me.

There are many things in the news I've wondered about recently. (What, you mean you haven't?) I'm just pointing out that sometimes everyone gets really excited about certain aspects of things while possibly missing others. Here are some examples of things I've wondered about:

--What happened to Sarah Palin's husband in that accident?

--Who is really behind the Stop Trump movement?

--What happened in the Arizona election? Are we sure it hasn't happened in other places and just gone unnoticed? (I felt a little sorry for Helen Purcell, the Arizona election official who has taken responsibility for the long lines and other snafus, and I'm not negating the seriousness of what happened at all by saying this--I just feel there's some deeper story here.)

--If Hillary Clinton did so well in the Benghazi hearings, why did Huma Abedin look so ravaged in the photo I saw of her that was taken during the testimony?

--How come Gary Shandling's doctor wouldn't sign that death certificate? (It could turn out to be merely an overabundance of caution on his part, naturally.) Coincidentally, I read another item about the time Gary Shandling attended the Correspondents' Dinner in Washington, "ran into" President George H.W. Bush and Barbara while touring the White House, and got co-opted into speaking during the event. It was kind of a weird little story.

While I'm on the subject, I do wish people would get over this Democratic/Republican split as the primary viewing lens for events. No, no, no! Just stop it. I've said this before, and I'll say it again: I don't think that's where it's at. Really--I don't think that's where it's at.

Drinking the River Styx

With the Michigan primary being so much in the news this week, the Flint water crisis has also been front and center in public awareness. I watched news clips of Flint residents talking about their experiences and also saw part of the Democratic presidential debate held there. When I started reading about the background of the problem, I began thinking about addressing it in this week's post, though I hesitated after hearing the remarks of some of the people who live there.

I was struck by the comment of one resident who said she didn't want to participate in the debate because she was wary of allowing presidential candidates to politicize Flint's crisis; another woman said she thought the time to start assigning blame for what happened would be after the problem is fixed. I see the wisdom of both perspectives and initially wondered whether I should hold off on writing about Flint since, after all, I don't live there. But since both the debate and the primary are over with, and Flint is still suffering, I decided that throwing in my two cents' worth couldn't hurt. Everyone from Hollywood actors to sports figures to public officials has been vocal on this topic (and rightly so). However, I don't know if any mythologists have weighed in, so I'll take that as an opening.

Flint, Michigan: formerly thriving auto industry hub and the hometown of filmmaker Michael Moore (Bowling for Columbine, Fahrenheit 9/11). Don't you have the feeling that it's time Flint caught a break? First the loss of much of its industrial base (chronicled in Mr. Moore's film Roger & Me), and now this. Water, of course, is synonymous with life, and to be poisoned right in your own home by something you took for granted as not only safe but vital to health must be especially hard to deal with. Poisoning the well, as it were, is hitting people at a very basic level, not only physically but psychologically, especially when they're already living through tough times.

One of the signs in mythology that you're entering the underworld is the act of crossing a river--not that every river crossing is that dire, but it certainly fits in this case, since a switch from the Detroit water supply to the Flint River was the beginning of the problem. What I don't understand is how officials could have neglected to add the proper chemical (orthophosphate) to the river water--as required by the Federal government's Lead and Copper Rule--that would have kept the pipes from corroding in the first place. Other people have blamed the water crisis on government mismanagement, racism, and misguided efforts to save money. To me, the heart of the matter is the unlawful failure to treat the water. It almost sounds like building a house and neglecting to put a roof on. Why would you do that?

EPA analyst Miguel Del Toral, who outlined his findings of the high lead levels in Flint's water in a report to Michigan officials last June, said he was "stunned" to find no corrosion control in place. In a recent interview with Michigan Radio, Mr. Del Toral said that "it's just inconceivable that somebody would not require the (corrosion control) treatment in the first place. So that was kind of the biggest shock if you will. . . . it just, it was really surprising to see a government agency saying the things that they were saying I guess."

Yes, very surprising. While the city of Flint continues its efforts to replace its old pipes and to take care of the people affected by the debacle, I hope someone remembers to ask, "Why did this happen?" It seems the "how" is understood, but what about the "why"? Is everybody buying that it was just a bureaucratic oversight? Hopefully, it wasn't a case of someone playing political games with Flint's water supply, because that would take it out of the territory of mere government bungling into something far more serious than it already is. It may be no consolation to the people of Flint one way or the other whether their suffering is the result of incompetence or something more akin to political terrorism--but, still, I think they would want to know.

What's With All the Beards?

What passes for a typical day in the life of a blogger/mythologist? You may be wondering, in case reading my blog has ever made you think of trying out the lifestyle for yourself. Just in case, as a public service, I'll share some of my experiences with you so you can decide if it sounds like something you'd ever want to do. (If you do, I'm going to be shocked, but I'll let you make up your own mind.)

Might as well use today as an example. I don't always get online first thing, but today I did, since I had an email to answer and have also been keeping an eye on my wireless connection, which--for reasons the telephone company cannot explain--keeps getting dropped. I was glancing at the Internet news headlines, reading articles here and there, when I saw a Reuters item about the investigation into the death of Alexander Litvinenko, the former KGB officer who became a British citizen and was working with authorities to uncover the activities of the Russian mafia. You may remember that he died in 2006 after drinking tea poisoned with polonium-210, which he said was the work of Russian agents.

In terms of human interest, that story stood out. According to the article, the British government believes his claim was true, that he was in fact murdered, and that Russian authorities are responsible. I got a little lost after that because, even though Britain is acknowledging that this man was murdered in cold blood, there doesn't seem to be any big move to arrest anyone due to the political situation vis-a-vis Syria, the importance of Russia's role there, etc, etc. Russia is making noise about how pushing the matter is going to poison the waters (pun intended, I guess), but if there's such a thing as international law, I don't see how that prevents British authorities from arresting the men they say did it and pursuing justice. That's if they're as committed as they say they are to punishing the guilty. For the sake of argument, let's assume they are.

Well, that's a disturbing story. Actually, it put me in mind of how, a few years ago, I seemed to have all of these Slavic-looking neighbors upstairs. There were two couples, both consisting of a short blonde woman and a tall dark-haired man, and for the longest time I thought there was just one couple, since they were similar in appearance and both had dogs. That was around the time things got kind of weird in and around my building, back in 2010, and I had to go up several times to ask the one couple (who lived above me) to cool it with the excessive noise. Asking did no good, but eventually they left on their own, sometime the following summer.

Going up to complain is how I found out there were actually two couples. Once I was up there talking to the man, and I could see this little blonde chick through the crack in the door, standing behind the man, though she didn't show herself directly. I had seen the other woman in my hallway once, talking to someone on her cell phone about, of all things, 9/11. She had a rather rude and peculiar manner in my brief encounters with her. Actually, she reminded me a lot of--well, I guess I shouldn't mention any names. I'll just say she reminds me of someone connected with the Western branch of my family. They could actually be sisters.

But I'm getting off track a little. Today, after reading the news, eating lunch (a pear salad with yogurt, a hard-boiled egg, cottage cheese), and taking a shower, I got ready to go out. I was dusting off my snow boots--which hadn't seen action since last winter--in the hall and decided to go back in for my lint brush. When I went back out into the hall, there was someone in the vestibule at the other end, knocking and smiling for all she was worth, and gesticulating that she needed to get in. I proceeded to ignore her. Our door is opened by a security code known to all residents, and if she didn't know it, my assumption is she didn't need to be here. (I couldn't tell if she looked Slavic from where I was standing, but heck, who knows who's keeping track of people reading articles about former KGB agents. Ha, ha--just a little humor!)

I wasn't going anywhere unusual today--just Starbucks. We're expecting snow armageddon, or something close to it, and I had decided to go today because the weather is predicted to make travel risky for the next couple of days. Before leaving, I tried the phone company again to let them know that their re-set of my channel hadn't helped my connection, and I was asked if I have a microwave (I don't) and then told that for a fee, I could get additional technical assistance. Huh? You want me to pay extra to get to the bottom of a problem with the service I'm already paying for? I told the service guy, Ron, that that wasn't my idea of a solution. I guess now I'll have to write to someone on top of making the phone calls--but we'll leave that aside for the moment.

I put on my newly brushed boots, bundled up, and went out to meet the cold. The sun tried briefly to come out while I was cleaning the snow from my car, and it wasn't much, but it was nice to see a little brightness. I drove to Starbucks on streets that were pretty clear but kind of dirty, especially near campus, and had to detour around a traffic jam on Euclid Avenue. Starbucks was less crowded than usual (I was surprised, as it seemed like the kind of winter afternoon tailor-made for a long coffee break) but no complaints about that from me.

I do have to observe that, as is often the case, there were a number of what I call "characters" hanging around. As much as you might want to sit with normal people and just enjoy a simple cup of coffee, the atmosphere there often goes against it. I jokingly refer to the place as the CIA Starbucks (inspired by an article I read about an actual Starbucks in the DC area)--and there certainly is a markedly international flavor to the place.

Hey, I'm not there to make any political statements; I usually just opt for any open seat. Today, I had the misfortune to sit near someone, who, I don't know, struck me as a little out of place, but what do I know? I hadn't been there long, sipping my coffee and looking out the window, when he tried to get my attention. I tried to ignore him, but he persisted, and when I finally looked at him, he said, "Is my music too loud?" (What music?) I pointed to my ear warmers, which I hadn't taken off, and said, "I can't hear anything." I thought of pointing out to him the illogic of asking someone who's obviously not responding to you whether or not you're bothering them, but in the interest of not prolonging the interaction, I decided not to.

So I read a little, watched the world go by, drank my coffee (which I trust was polonium-free), and enjoyed, so far as possible, a little fresh air in the hope of warding off any cabin fever that might ensue over the next couple of days. After that, I came home, fixed dinner (a scrambled-egg panini), and jumped online to check my connection (still not working properly). The rest of the evening will consist of: proofreading my blog, washing the dishes, fixing a cup of tea, and possibly watching a few more sessions of The Fall of the Pagans, the latest Teaching Company course I've been enjoying, before going to bed.

So, a day in the life of a blogger. Not my ideal life (far from it, actually), but I try to record things as they are, not as I wish they were. If you've been eaten up with envy, thinking, "Wow, I wish I could be just like Wordplay--she must have it made!" maybe this will serve as a reality check. I count my pennies and worry about the future. I've always lived a fairly ascetic life, but this is getting into monastic territory. There's very little glamour to it and a lot of aggravation. I enjoy blogging, but it doesn't pay much.

As for the world events mentioned here, I'll point out that I do have an unusually high number of readers in Russia (as I've said before), so I'm not unnaturally taking an interest in them. If I wanted to write a spy thriller in the current climate (I don't want to, but if I did), I might start with the Russian royal family--remember them? The Romanovs. Nicholas and Alexandra were cousins to half the European royals, including George V of England. I learned long ago in World History that they all died, but what if there had been a surviving member somewhere? That would be the stuff of real international intrigue.

Perhaps it's the feeling of living a secluded life that gives me a little sympathy for their final plight. Nicholas was not, apparently, a capable ruler, and as an American, I have no admiration for inherited power. We may not always do well by our leaders, but at least we get a chance periodically to change them and give someone else a try. What makes an accident of birth suitable qualification for leadership? Nothing that I can see. To me, it's a little unseemly for Americans to get too starry-eyed over royalty, when we fought a revolution to get away from all that and to start over with the premise that all men are created equal (glaring failures to put it into practice notwithstanding). Never forget what a quantum leap forward that was. If other countries have a different view of things, that's up to them to work out.

It's probably the fact of all the Russian beards I keep seeing that brings all this to mind, along with those mysterious neighbors of mine and the news in general. The Russian look seems to be very much in vogue these days, and not a day goes by when Russia isn't in the news. I don't write the news, but I do read it. And sometimes I blog about it.

A Senator Reads His Mail

Dear Senator ----

I don't know if word has reached your office of any malfeasance involving the firm ----, which as you know has offices in ---- and ----. When I worked in the ---- office, it was called ----. I left the firm in 2011 when the poisonous environment there made it impossible to work, even if I hadn't had fears for my physical well-being. I was a good employee with excellent performance reviews, but I began having problems in the office around the end of 2003. It began with an episode of sexual harassment that I was not able to redress despite reporting it to my superiors on several occasions.

Over time, I began to feel that someone was attempting to undermine my credibility and standing in the office, and the situation grew worse when ---- took charge around 2009. After that, I actually began to feel concerned for my physical safety, though I was unable to get my supervisor to acknowledge my concerns.

From things that people have said to me, directly and indirectly, I gather there have been rumors of unsavory activity involving one or more members of the ---- office for quite some time. One of our ---- was shot in the head under mysterious circumstances in early 2008, ---- died of cancer (which someone implied to me may not have been an entirely natural occurrence), and a man with connections to our ---- committed suicide unexpectedly near the end of my time there.

The latter event happened in Fall 2010, coinciding with the onset of a terribly strained atmosphere in the office. I was unsure at the time why I felt so unsafe, but in intervening years, rumors have reached me of something akin to an "adult dating" type of ring connected with member(s) of the firm that involved more than just consenting adults (I think we are actually talking about felony child abuse and worse).

I began feeling concerned about the safety of my locks at home and believe my credit card information may have been accessed by someone at ---- intending to do me harm by setting me up without my knowledge on ---- or a similar sex club site. It seems that people are very hesitant to discuss anything openly, and it has taken me a long time to put the pieces together.

That seems like a lot of trouble to go to over a middle-aged librarian, but I believe I may have been targeted not just out of spite but also because some social acquaintances of mine, without my knowledge, may also have been connected with members of the firm and this illegal activity. I also noted that the atmosphere in the office turned considerably colder after I discussed a book I was reading about the Bush family's relationship with the Saudi royal house with one of our attorneys in 2004.

Lastly, I will tell you that my mother died in early 2007, and that I had been extremely concerned about her because of some strange activity that had taken place at her residence: a suicide next door, visits from a "young couple" she would not identify, and an attempted break-in in her apartment. I felt that something untoward was taking place but was never able to get her to tell me the truth of the matter. The ---- who died of cancer had formerly worked for my mother's family attorney, which was a coincidence I only learned of by accident. I cannot tell you with certainty of the precise way in which these matters are linked, but I do indeed think there is a link.

I continue to be concerned about not only my safety but that of other family members. I recently returned from a trip to ---- to check on my ---- and ---- when I grew alarmed after a long period of silence from my ----. I was nearly run off the road in ---- in what appeared to be a deliberate act and reported it to the ---- State Police, complete with license plate number. Unfortunately, this is not the first time something like that has happened.

I went to local police here in ---- about two years ago to make a complaint, but no investigation was done. I believe that ---- may also have some connection with the matters I'm discussing, and I have no faith in his integrity or that of his administration.

If I'm the first to mention any of this to you, I'm actually rather surprised. I feel that others probably have more direct knowledge of some of these events than I do, but as I know of no one else who has actually spoken openly or reported these matters to anyone in authority, I am doing so. If I can supply any other information, please let me know.

Sincerely.