Friday, August 16, 2019

The Garden of Lies: The Latest Attempt to Poison America's Legacy as "A Nation of Immigrants"



The moral abomination who currently occupies the oval office has done it again. He has appointed somebody to an important government position who hates the very service that his department has always provided for the betterment of the nation.

            What does his latest 'pick-a-stooge' appointment to high federal office--acting Director of Citizenship and Immigration Services Ken Cuccinelli -- fail to understand about "a nation of immigrants" and the history of this country's founding and subsequent growth, development, and astonishing success.

            Or rather what doesn't he fail to understand?

            According to the US Census Bureau, 2 percent of our country's population consists of Native Americans (6.6 million as of 2015). That means 98 percent of of census-counted Americans came from somewhere else -- i.e., we are (almost) all of immigrant stock.

            In the service, however, not only of historical amnesia, but of his enabler's sadistic taste for punishing those in need, the new immigration services boss decided to rewrite Emma Lazarus's famous poem that celebrates the Statue of Liberty and concludes with the oft-quoted nation-building lines: 

"Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!" 


            But according to the new Tumpetty-puppet's rewrite, those lines should read: "Give me your tired and your poor, who can stand on their own two feet and who will not become a public charge."

            New immigrant boss Cuccinelli's ignorant, racist assumption drew a quick rebuke from Pulitzer Prize winning journalist and author Sonia Nazario, who pointed out, correctly, "The reality is that immigrants who come here legally are no more likely to be on welfare than people who are born in this country. ... The reality is that immigrants who have come to this country, whether they are poor or rich, are what have made America great."

            Let's look at some famous instances. The Pilgrims who arrived here from England and the Netherlands in 1620 could well fit the apt and stirringly eloquent description of the immigrant population in Lazarus's poem: "..your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.."

            Since Trump's appointees are famously ignorant of history or the mission of the agency they've been given stewardship of in order to further the occupant of the White House's nasty, small-minded prejudices, let's look at the history of how the United States came to be. Whose view of immigration is better supported by the facts -- that of Lazarus's beloved poem? Or Cuccinelli's Trump-twisted version?

            The nation's most famous European immigrants, the Pilgrims, were surely 'tired' after the hardships of a 17th century Atlantic voyage. They were 'poor' after spending whatever funds they had assembled on commissioning and provisioning a ship for the voyage. They had "huddled" beneath decks of their not terribly ocean-worthy vessel during the storms of the North Atlantic. And I'm sure they were yearning for a breath of fresh air, though they would have been happier about the New World's open-air accommodations if they hadn't arrived in winter. And they were literally a match for another of the famous poem's depictions: "homeless" and "tempest-tost."    

            As for 'standing on their own two feet,' many of them could barely walk off the ship. Some remained on it all winter. The group's survivors soon received valuable assistance from Plymouth's indigenous residents who, despite suffering terrible losses of their own from plague germs brought by prior contacts with Europeans, taught the new arrivals what crops to grow and how to grow them. And at that famous harvest-time "first Thanksgiving," it was the Indians who supplied most of the food.

            In the wake of the first scattered immigrant societies in New England, New York, and Virginia, migrants from England, Scotland, Holland, Germany and other European countries founded the colonies from which grew the nation that became known as the United States of America. Some of them arrived with sufficient wealth to 'stand on their own feet' economically, perhaps after the sea-sickness wore off. Many others relied on the assistance provided by religious or national communities already here.

            No 'immigrant policies' decided whether they would be granted admittance or not. They took their chances, risked their lives, in coming to a foreign shore. Some prospered; some faltered. But you certainly could not predict who would or would not become valuable contributors to society based on what was found, or not found, in their pockets on the day of their arrival.

            The immigration policy apparently favored by Trump and his latest mean-spirited acolyte -- requiring new immigrants to demonstrate that they had the means to support themselves in their new country; a requirement generally known as  "a means test" -- flies in the face of history.  

            Unlike the spoiled occupant of the White House, who was born rich and therefore assumes only rich people are valuable members of society, the majority of of this nation's most important, famous, creative, patriotic and otherwise valuable  contributors would not have passed "a means test" when they arrived in America.

            If a means test were applied to immigrants in those early days, would David Carnegie, a poor Scottish immigrant, have been allowed off the boat? JP Morgan was a 19th century financial tycoon, railroad baron, and symbol of wealth in the first Gilded Age (we're unhappily enduring the second one right now), but his early immigrant ancestor was just another soldier of fortune when he arrived from Wales in 1636. Ben Franklin's ancestors were 17th century English Puritans seeking religious freedom in a new land; they did not arrive with full purses.

            Henry Knox, whose brilliant military leadership was responsible for driving the British out of Boston in 1776 and who later became George Washington's Secretary of War, was the descendant of Ulster immigrants. His father was a ship builder who came to Boston in the early 18th century, because he went broke back at home. Not likely, then, to pass a means test. But America's Revolutionary War might have played out differently without his son's contribution.

            So many of America's essential nation builders descended from people who not would not have been permitted to enter this country if arriving with a sufficient nest egg were the criterion for entrance. Andrew Jackson, a scourge to Native Americans but an apostle of universal male suffrage -- back when that goal was the definition of democracy -- grew up in poverty. Abraham Lincoln, still the greatest of the nation's public servants, grew up in legendarily humble circumstances. Lyndon Johnson, whose political leadership assured the country's only meaningful Civil Rights legislation, also grew up poor.

            Delving deeper, among the major 19th and early 20th century immigrant groups, the migrants from an economically devastated Ireland, to take a justly celebrated example, would not have passed a means test. A few decades later the descendants of those who endured poverty on both sides of the Atlantic, were serving as mayors and governors of major cities in states such as New York and Boston. John F. Kennedy may have grown up in wealthy circumstances, but his ancestors did not.

            The same general truth applies to the Italian, Jewish, Russian, Polish, Hungarian, Slavic and other Eastern European immigrants who migrated here in the second great wave of immigration from 1880 to 1920. Both farm prices and the fishing industry were collapsing in southern Italy, when millions of Italians arrived on these shoes. Jews were escaping violent repression in Russia and Poland and other European countries.

            Chinese immigrants came here -- like their European counterparts -- fleeing famine and seeking work. They found it digging the rail beds for the first continental railroad, as the Irish before them dug the Erie Canal and worked on the early East Coast railroads.

            Political and economic oppression, the absence of opportunity, drove the poor and the vulnerable from unfriendly societies to the country that most singularly represented the availability of freedom and opportunity. People do not leave their homes on a whim but because they are driven by poverty, political oppression, and in many cases by clear existential threats to their future survival.

            Beneath the Statue of Liberty, whose meaning was so lastingly interpreted by Lazarus's poem, New York City's Ellis Island received millions of newcomers who would not have passed "a means test" to prove that they could 'stand on their feet' upon arrival.

            Irving Berlin, a Russian Jewish Immigrant, arrived on Ellis Island in 1893. Where would popular American music be without “White Christmas” and “God Bless America,” his 19 Broadway shows, and many movie scores?

            Ettore Boiardi arrived from his home town of Piacenza, Italy and found work at New York’s Plaza Hotel in 1914. He eventually pioneered the product line of canned Italian pasta and sauces through his company known as "Chef Boy-ar-dee."

            Mother Cabrini arrived at Ellis Island in 1894, sent by the Pope to better the lives of poor Italian immigrants, and succeeded in establishing orphanages, schools and hospitals across the country. It was not because she brought bags of money with her. Miracles happen when a society permits talent, creativity, intelligence, diligence -- and, perhaps, faith -- to go to work.

            That society does not at first demand, 'Let me see your bank account.'

            Albert Einstein left Germany and immigrated to the United States in 1921. He wasn't there for the Nazis; he was here for Roosevelt.

            Who will be there for us in the future, if the rules of the Abominable Regime hold sway over American immigration policy, as they have already flouted all human decency on the Southern Border?

            We should take care to remember the poem, Emma Lazarus's poem, the way she wrote it, and bury the Trump-dummy's revision with the scorn it deserves

            The poem is an icon of American values. Those values are what makes America 'great' -- not its bombs or the billions piled up by the corporate oligarchs. The market value of Amazon or Facebook -- or Trump Enterprises, if in fact that entity has any value -- are worth little or nothing in the long run. Material fortunes bloom, and disappear.

            The words, and meanings, of Emma Lazarus's poem are worth everything. We forget that at our peril.

            If the current regime of the small-minded hater-in-charge holds sway much longer, the good ol' USA runs the risk of becoming just another authoritarian corporate state. Where 'the means' matter, and the meanings don't -- like Russia, or China, or North Korea or Saudi Arabia.

            Who'd want to immigrate there?

Sunday, July 28, 2019

In the Garden of the Creators, The Gods Speak in Thunder


 
         It's 1975 in America. Anybody want to go back to that zeitgeist? I wouldn't think so... but then again, considering where we are now. 
           According to a recent story in the Old Colony Memorial (my journalistic alma mater) the 'business plan' for Bob Dylan's Rolling Thunder Revue tour was to promote the release of the now third or fourth incarnation superstar's new album "Desire." In a piece of local history insufficiently celebrated, a rarity for Plymouth, Dylan chose to perform the tour's first concerts in the town's Memorial Hall, an aging and semi-dilapidated World War I era auditorium, on Oct. 30 and 31.
           According to the newspaper story, also published in the Patriot Ledger, tour promoters rented an oceanfront home (for a visiting 'celebrity') and engaged the services of a housekeeper-cook. But Dylan was a reclusive vegan. He stayed in the tour van and didn't eat the food cooked for him. According to the story's sources, Dylan was "fond of the area," Plymouth and Cape Cod. 
             Dylan and his band -- a smaller number than the large and divers entourage that would join the tour in the succeeding months -- rehearsed in Sea Crest Motel in Falmouth, surprising that establishment's regular Bingo session.
           And, perhaps best of all for the local market, the paper found a photo of Dylan leaning on round support column at Plymouth Rock.
            The Rolling Thunder tour is the subject of feature-length documentary by Martin Scorsese -- that debuted earlier this summer on Netflix. Which, in my humble opinion, is currently the best thing on Netflix or any screen anywhere. If you're not old enough to have experienced the letdown of the 70s after the wild, norms-smashing promises of the 60s when the times truly were changing, it's hard to appreciate the tour's premise. So, for context, in the mid-70s New York City was bankrupt and cities were everywhere failing. Crime was up, and a criminal was President -- oh, maybe today's audiences can understand that. 
            When the Rolling Thunder Revue opened -- what today would be called a 'soft' opening in a hall in Plymouth -- the documentary (full title: "Rolling Thunder Revue: A Bob Dylan Story by Martin Scorsese") shows a guy on Court Street being handed a leaflet about the concert and asking in a puzzled voice, "Why does he want to come to a little place like this?" 
            The film also has a brief clip of Dylan and companions visiting the then-tourist attraction Wax Museum and contemplating a wax JFK. A wax LBJ.
            Plymouth was the sticks back then; it's practically a metropolis today. America's big cities have rebounded considerably as well; that's where the money lives now. America and the pre-digital world were part of a different universe a half century ago. And into that empty space between then and now, a unique strain of artistic genius could find a space to imagine a way on. I'm sorry I missed being in the seats for one of the tour's many live, small-theater performances. (I was living in Cambridge then.) But Martin Scorsese's magnificent documentary makes the thunder of the mind roll on again.

            Some enduring impressions: Dylan wearing hat with an opulent flower, a dandyish fashion from who knows when, and singing "Hey Mister Tambourine Man." The film cuts away to a clip of  Richard Nixon, his blast-from-the-past deep voice celebrating the promise of the 'American dream' as the theme for the bicentennial. Would that dream, perhaps, consist of ending the War in Vietnam?...
              Dylan talking about why he invited the playwright and novelist Sam Shepard to travel with the ever-expanding revue tour. Shepard "brought a knowledge of the underworld," he says. "He communed with the dead."
              An older Dylan expressing the need for a 'new' birth of hope in America, offering, for example,"people lost a sense of connection. Two people tried to shoot the President in one month."
               Wow. I didn't know he cared. 
                Allen Ginsberg, an immortal voice of his generation, explaining the impulse for the tour's unorthodox collection of voices, performers, and hangers-on: "to show how beautiful we can be [as a country] by showing how beautiful we are."
               (A statement that NY Times reviewer Manohla Dargis misquoted as "showing how beautiful he [Dylan] is...," in order to belittle both Dylan and Ginsberg. It a good think neither Dylan nor the filmmakers are litigious.)
                A more contemporary Dylan (interviewed for the Scorsese's film) reveals his literary knowledge in quoting Ginsberg's famous line from Howl: "I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by drugs..."   
             In another cut from the contemporary interview, an aged Dylan reveals a grouchy old man persona when asked about the inspiration for the Rolling Thunder tour: 
                    "I don't remember a thing about the Rolling Thunder tour. .. It was 40 years ago. I wasn't even born then."
               Which is to say, quite truly, that he was a different person back then in his thirties. We all were.
               Because on the screen we see Dylan prancing on stage in white face paint singing "to dance beneath the diamond sky..."
                The thing is, as perceptive students of Dylan's Nobel-winning career have pointed out, his singing and stage performances captured by film of the tour were never better. Wholly committed, passionate, loose-bodied, comfortable in his skin (at least on stage), exhibiting a willingness to interact with the audience that his younger, pricklier self never showed.  

                  Dylan -- an older Dylan in the Scorsese interviewers --
offering the interviewer the film's money quote: "Life isn't about finding yourself... Life is about creating yourself." 
                 We see this self-creation in action. 
                  Dylan on stage performing, singing duets, exchanging leads with band members, among them the incredibly well-suited electric fiddle player Scarlet Rivera, a name that was unfamiliar to me. Her presence provides a link to the face paint that Dylan, and some others wore, on stage. Rivera sometimes played with the early 70s rock act Kiss, who impressed me as too atrociously one-dimensional to listen to. But Kiss members grease-painted and dressed like clowns on stage.
                Dylan face-painted in the tradition of the commedia dell'arte, those traveling players with roots in the Middle Ages, who served as a precedent and philosophical anchor for his Rolling Thunder traveling 'revu' -- never simply a headliner plus openers -- and his determined preference for smaller halls. Not a stadium tour.       
              The audience was close; it was in his face. 
              And what they saw on Dylan's face was a mask. Leading to this wonderfully apt quote, again from the current-day interview:                 "When somebody’s wearing a mask, he’s going to tell the truth. When he’s not wearing a mask, it’s highly unlikely.”

                 Dylan of course never wears a mask in his often visibly reluctant interviews. Or, perhaps, those masks are invisible. 
                Rivera's contribution figures heavily in performances with Dylan of songs I never fully appreciated, including "One More Coffee for the Road" and "Isis."

                  Baez, interviewed for the 1975-76 tour film that provides images for Scorsese's new film, recalls her touring with Dylan in the 60s. She recalls the hotel room where he wrote "The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll."
              The film also includes strong stage performances by other major voices of the time. The energy is catching Joni Mitchell sings her song "Coyote." In the film Roger McGuinn says that she wrote the song "about this tour and on this tour and for this tour.” 


               Joan Baez duets with Dylan, who is seen in a tour-time interview responding to a question this way: "Joan Baez and me, we can sing any song." 
               And in fact, better than in any other filmed performance, the film shows what a great singer Dylan is. Not just a guy with a weird voice and an attitude. And what a great musician. The trick is not just writing the lyrics. It's finding the music that turns them into magic, lights their fire.
                  And then the stage performance that sells them. 
                  His lyric says: "your loyalty is not for me, but to the stars above." Who else has written that?
                  And when you hear the line sung, chills go through you. 
                    On stage in Rolling Thunder, Dylan sings at a fast pace, at times in the topical songs with a barely contained rage that goes off in you mind like an extended explosion. He knows you know a a song such as "The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll" and where it's going, so instead of the coldly ironic build-up to the devastating conclusion, he screams the song out like a horrified witness statement. 
                    Barely contained passion -- matching the blunt anger of the lyrics -- also characterizes of the later 'protest' ballad "Hurricane," another tale of unspeakable injustice committed against someone guilty of breathing while black. 
                   Other interviewees comment on Dylan's "energy" both on and off stage. The energy was "rolling thunder."
                    He was remaking himself, just as he remakes the songs in these performances. 
                    He knew how to do it. He had done it before. He would do it again.
                     If you've ever had any interest in one of the major artists of our time, you have to see this film.





 

Monday, July 15, 2019

The Garden of the Seasons: Daylilies, Natural Drives, and the Delights of Midsummer

If you grow daylilies the first couple weeks of July will be a kind of Christmas in July. Most, though far from all, daylilies bloom in this mid-summer period. A time I both love, and wait for each year, but also experience with a kind of anticipated regret, knowing that each passing day -- according to the absolute law of this hard-blooming species -- means that I will lose the previous day's entire cohort of beautiful warriors in the battle to bring color and the rare, fundamentally indescribable -- not for want of trying -- pleasure of living things that succeed on planet earth, century after century, millennium after millennium, simply by making themselves appear "beautiful" to species of an entirely different order of being! 
           Flowering green plants: they spread their seed, disseminate the means to perpetuate the species, perform in effect the same responsibility 'higher' animals such as ourselves do when we mate, reproduce, and guard our offspring with our lives, doing everything in out power to protect and further their existence. We keep our species going, individual by individual, generation by generation, obeying a command of our deepest nature. The example of flowering plants suggests that beauty, growth, the urge to survive, the instincts by which to achieve that goal are all means toward achieving the goal and end of any single living thing -- to perpetuate life itself. 
           If flowering plants have a religion -- this is it. And they express it so beautifully. This is why, perhaps, some of us get wrapped up in the success, or absence thereof, of so many of the plants we spend the summer with. We desire to know how well some of our favorites -- the daylilies, say -- are going to perform in a given season. It excites me, pleases me, to notice that the most common member of this family, the native orange-blooming 'ditch lily' has spread its seed to some corner of the garden where it hasn't appeared before. 
           Plants can 'spread out' or disseminate, or send new colonies, or new family members, perhaps, into different patches of ground in our flower garden because this is a garden, a space, without fixed dominions. Natural selection is given room to operate here. Things grow, expand, march forth, occupy territory. Some unfortunately decline in numbers, and even disappear. I try to protect the smaller and more vulnerable species, but I can't keep track of everyone. 
          Too much is going on. I like it that way. I am a player in the arrangement of species here, but not a dictator. I don't have the time, or taste for that kind of role. This is a living kingdom. When the orange daylilies jump over to a place near the white fence that once was occupied by what -- I don't think I remember: all various plants species are all simply playing by the same rules. Blossom, flower, send forth your seed. Go forth and multiply.
           Plants in this garden, as plants have everywhere this summer, have multiplied with enthusiasm. They are doing their thing. They are shooting out their blossoms, firing the flower and fruit of their nature. They are reaching for the sun. 
           I salute them. I exult in their effort, their vitality, their strength, their beauty. I am sorry only that the fireworks cannot last. Every day I admire their work, and realize that they (and we) are one day nearer to the end of things in this glorious season. 
           Reach for the skies, people. I'm with you in spirit.










Tuesday, July 2, 2019

In July's Verse-Virtual.com, a Little 'Canyon Music' Recalling an Unexpected Bonus from our Recent Visit to Canyon Country

July may be favorite month -- if it isn't June, or May. (Or maybe August or September... and you can make a wonderful case for October...)
          In my poems in this month's Verse-Virtual.com, the online poetry magazine that publishes a full new issue every month, I pay a lingering revisit to the wonders of the Grand Canyon National Park. My poem "A Canon to the Canyons"offers a song of praise to an unexpected bonus from our recent Western adventure -- a complete holiday from any reference to our current National Disaster. 
          You know what I mean? Shhh! Not a word. Here are the first 2 stanzas of the poem. 

A Canon to the Canyons

​
Introit: The canyons are beautiful
the canyons are awesome and full
            of folk, visitors all, always cheery, never a pall
It was a fine vacation --
            a vacation from the nation!

Refrain: And nobody talked about Trump!
not a mention, or a tension, or a gibe for your attention,
or a rant, or a cant, or a guy you'd like to plant
(will he grow? will he die? turn his roots up to the sky?)
And nobody talked about Trump!
 

For the entire poem see 
https://www.verse-virtual.com/robert-knox-2019-july.html



        I also contributed poem inspired, in part, by music. Actually, it was the title of an instrumental song performed by Rachel Grimes, titled "Earthly Heaven," that got me going. Here's the beginning of that poem, mixing a sense of the spiritual calm that comes from a satisfying yoga class, with a little something more "earthly."


Earthly Heaven


On an eastbound journey...
just back from yoga class,
recalling the three 'R's' --
Are you mindful?
Are you in the moment?
Are you checking out anyone else's bod?



To read he rest of this poem, see 
https://www.verse-virtual.com/robert-knox-2019-july.html

To find poems by all the contributors to the July 2019 Verse-Virtual, see 
https://www.verse-virtual.com/poems-and-articles.html