All 200 minutes of Seven Samurai played on board last night to a small but appreciative audience. Several were seeing this 1954 Kurosawa classic for more than the first time. One senior member owns some sort of record, as his number of viewings ranges well into double digits. He told me that he never fails to notice something new or different each time. I certainly appreciated it more on this my second viewing, particularly the director's cinematic texture and the oustanding performances of Takashi Shimura and Toshiro Mifune.
A door prize went unclaimed because no one could solve the required puzzle. So, I pass it on to anyone who wants to try. An appropriate prize will be sent to the first respondent who can solve the following "Six Degrees of Separation" progession:
Akira Kurosawa to Clint Eastwood:
1. Akira Kurosawa
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
7. Clint Eastwood
Rules:
Akira Kurosawa (1) directed Actor (2)
Actor (2) appeared with Actor (3)
Actor (3) appeared with Actor (4)
Actor (4) appeared with Actor (5)
Actor (5) appeared with Actor (6)
Actor (6) was directed by Clint Eastwood.
Name the actors and the films they shared. Several combinations will solve the riddle, but each of the actors mush have been in a Japan-oriented film. Movies may not be used more than once.
Nature of prize will depend on whether the winner is in Japan or abroad. (My current fellow staff members are not eligible to play.)
Good luck and have fun with it. We did. Whatever you do, don't give up midway.
Friday, April 30, 2010
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
武士道 (Bushido)
[First, a disclaimer: All I really know about kanji is how to cut and paste those characters on my computer. But it looks neat, so why not? Unless your computer isn't set for Japanese characters, in which case you probably see only small squares instead of kanji. Sorry about that.]
Since yesterday's post, my creative thoughts travelled half-way around the world, from Germany to the Land of the Rising Sun. This rapid transition reflects our steady progress back toward Japan, as well as the imminent showing of Akira Kurosawa's classic 1954 film, Seven Samurai (七人の侍 Shichinin no samurai). This is the second of three offerings by our newly formed "Fine and Foreign Film" cadre, of which I am an enthusiastic co-founder. The Lives of Others was our debut. The Russian film, Burnt by the Sun, will round out the inaugural trilogy.
Many know that Seven Samurai was remade into the 1960 American western, The Magnificent Seven. The latter is a fine, entertaining movie with a stellar cast, but the adaptation removes the viewer from two key elements of Kurosawa's original. The first was its impact on a Japan that was still redefining itself less than a decade after World War II. The second was its ties to Bushido, or the Code of the Samurai. (武士道, "Bu"+"Shi"+"Do" = "Marshall arts"+"Warrior"+"The Way")
For anyone seriously interested in Bushido and its continued impact on Japanese society, I highly recommend Inazo Nitobe's monograph, Bushido, the Soul of Japan, which can be read on line or purchased at a very minimal cost. Even though written in 1905, well before the Pacific War (as WWII is known in Japan), it rings solidly true today as well.
Bushido developed from the fusion of warrior ethos with Buddhism and Shintoism. The ages-old Samurai code embodies seven essential principles:
義 Gi: Rectitude. Justice. The right decision, taken with equanimity, the right attitude, the truth. When we must die, we must die.
勇 Yu: Courage. The spirit of daring and bearing. Not bravado for its own sake, but bravery tempered with heroism.
仁 Jin: Benevolence. Universal love, charity (in a Pauline sense) toward mankind; compassion.
礼 Rei: Respect. Politeness. Right action--a most essential quality, courtesy.
誠 Makoto: Honesty. Veracity. Sincerity.
誉 Melyo: Honor. And glory.
忠 Chugo: The Duty of Loyalty. Devotion.
And there are a few associated virtues (Children, take special note!):
孝 kō: Filial piety
智 chi: Wisdom
悌 tei: Care for the aged
I have read that Bushido influenced Buddhism, and Buddhism influenced Bushido. The common elements are:
Pacification of the emotions;
Tranquil compliance with the inevitable;
Self-control in the face of any event;
A more intimate exploration of death than of life;
Pure poverty.
A more modern yet equally cogent depiction of the Bushido code is the popular film, The Last Samurai, which faithfully portrays these traditional Samurai virtues, many of which still prevail in Japan today. One passage especially stands out. Captured in battle, a veteran U.S. soldier ultimately finds himself living in a Samurai village. Over time he begins to appreciate the virtues of his captors:
Perhaps the leap from Seven Samurai to Magnificent Seven is not so distant after all. Many of those ancient Bushido virtues seem to be the same as those that won and built the West. Small world after all.
Since yesterday's post, my creative thoughts travelled half-way around the world, from Germany to the Land of the Rising Sun. This rapid transition reflects our steady progress back toward Japan, as well as the imminent showing of Akira Kurosawa's classic 1954 film, Seven Samurai (七人の侍 Shichinin no samurai). This is the second of three offerings by our newly formed "Fine and Foreign Film" cadre, of which I am an enthusiastic co-founder. The Lives of Others was our debut. The Russian film, Burnt by the Sun, will round out the inaugural trilogy.
Many know that Seven Samurai was remade into the 1960 American western, The Magnificent Seven. The latter is a fine, entertaining movie with a stellar cast, but the adaptation removes the viewer from two key elements of Kurosawa's original. The first was its impact on a Japan that was still redefining itself less than a decade after World War II. The second was its ties to Bushido, or the Code of the Samurai. (武士道, "Bu"+"Shi"+"Do" = "Marshall arts"+"Warrior"+"The Way")
For anyone seriously interested in Bushido and its continued impact on Japanese society, I highly recommend Inazo Nitobe's monograph, Bushido, the Soul of Japan, which can be read on line or purchased at a very minimal cost. Even though written in 1905, well before the Pacific War (as WWII is known in Japan), it rings solidly true today as well.
Bushido developed from the fusion of warrior ethos with Buddhism and Shintoism. The ages-old Samurai code embodies seven essential principles:
義 Gi: Rectitude. Justice. The right decision, taken with equanimity, the right attitude, the truth. When we must die, we must die.
勇 Yu: Courage. The spirit of daring and bearing. Not bravado for its own sake, but bravery tempered with heroism.
仁 Jin: Benevolence. Universal love, charity (in a Pauline sense) toward mankind; compassion.
礼 Rei: Respect. Politeness. Right action--a most essential quality, courtesy.
誠 Makoto: Honesty. Veracity. Sincerity.
誉 Melyo: Honor. And glory.
忠 Chugo: The Duty of Loyalty. Devotion.
And there are a few associated virtues (Children, take special note!):
孝 kō: Filial piety
智 chi: Wisdom
悌 tei: Care for the aged
I have read that Bushido influenced Buddhism, and Buddhism influenced Bushido. The common elements are:
Pacification of the emotions;
Tranquil compliance with the inevitable;
Self-control in the face of any event;
A more intimate exploration of death than of life;
Pure poverty.
A more modern yet equally cogent depiction of the Bushido code is the popular film, The Last Samurai, which faithfully portrays these traditional Samurai virtues, many of which still prevail in Japan today. One passage especially stands out. Captured in battle, a veteran U.S. soldier ultimately finds himself living in a Samurai village. Over time he begins to appreciate the virtues of his captors:
"From the moment they wake, they
devote themselves to the perfection
of whatever they pursue -- I have
never seen such discipline....
And yet I am confounded by their
contradictions, savagery followed
by mildness."
Perhaps the leap from Seven Samurai to Magnificent Seven is not so distant after all. Many of those ancient Bushido virtues seem to be the same as those that won and built the West. Small world after all.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
"The Lives of Others" in Arizona? (Part B)
Okay, so did you get to see the film?
If not, or even if you did, here's a link to a pretty good synopsis: The Lives of Others (Das Leben der Anderen), plus a Roger Ebert review, and an interesting albeit wordy review entitled, The Stasi on Our Minds. Finally, a bit of history about the German Democratic Republic, aka East Germany, and its Ministry of State Security, commonly known as The Stasi. I provide these links because I am no expert on any of these subjects. Therefore I must share my sources for independent perusal and interpretation by anyone who reads this post.
This is all a set up for discussion about the implications of Arizona's new immigration law. A couple of readers privately voiced to me similar concerns to those reflected in the more vociferous public demonstrations by frijole-wielding swastika painters in the Arizona capitol. Opponents claim that the stringent provisions of the law predispose America to become a totalitarian, racial profiling, freedom robbing society like the GDR, USSR, or even Nazi Germany. Supporters, on the other hand, argue that the new law simply provides legitimate enforcement teeth to protect law abiding citizens against the threats posed by an emboldened, nefarious invasion force of bandits. Both sides share a common emotion: fear itself, as in "All we have to fear is...".
How many of the emotional proponents on either side of this debate have actually read the new Arizona law, and the Federal code to which it refers, and figured out for themselves what it says or doesn't say? How many simply rely on the biased characterizations of pundits and media who can spin the truth in either direction to support their own agendas? How many mindlessly align themselves with those whose views validate their own intrinsic fears...fears that may have little or no relationship to the substance of this debate?
How does this one law enable a Stasi-like violation and manipulation of American citizens as depicted in the German film? How exactly does this law enable the transformation of Arizona's governor into a modern Erich Honecker? What about it makes honest law enforcement officers like my nephew - who currently serves the U.S. Border Patrol - into Stasi, KGB, Gestapo, or even Khmer Rouge? Frankly, only fear itself -- fear that politicians and police will wantonly abuse the law's protective provisions to their own benefit or to serve their own biases.
On the other hand, earlier today a colleague cogently asked me what provision in this new law would have prevented the tragedy that befell my cousin? Again, only fear itself -- fear of righteous recrimination by an outraged people who have finally had enough and are willing to fight back, armed with the legal means by which to do so. Are we to believe that legal enforcement of this law alone will stem the tide of criminal activity across our borders? Not likely. But it might be a good start, and at least takes some action instead of the incessant do-nothing talk of the last decade or so.
Can we compare our American society and way of life to that of the GDR or other totalitarian states of the former eastern block? Do we find similarities in our histories? Any common weakness upon which abusive politicians or law enforcement officers could wantonly tread without fear of accountability? Unlike those former totalitarian countries, America was founded and strengthened by immigrants, many of whom came here to escape discrimination and repression in their native lands. In so doing, they established a system of government designed to protect the inalienable rights of all human beings. The repressive East German government, and others like it, operated on a far different premise. The state-sponsored widespread incursions into and trampling of human rights by the Stasi existed for the protection of the regime and its leaders, not for the citizens. To assure their own survival, these politicians had to vigorously supress the enemy within, their own people, rather than invaders from outside their borders. Could the same happen in America?
Perhaps it could. Perhaps, even as a free American citizen, I might be compelled to stand quietly docile in a long line, careful not to utter even a critical joke about the process unfolding in front of me or my ultimate intent for being in that place. Once I reach the head of the line, I might have to silently show my papers, several times, to the guards and inspectors. Then upon demand I might meekly remove certain articles of my clothing prior to subjecting myself to electronic and/or physical search. Maybe I would also surrender my personal belongings for additional inspection. Perhaps, without any resistance whatsoever, I might have to allow a total stranger - in full view of other total strangers - to grope into my most personal possessions and to remove any item that he or she believes could possibly assist me in harming my fellow citizens.
Totalitarian state? Racial profiling? Violation of personal freedom? No. Just federally mandated airport security. I remember when no such thing existed. You simply drove to the airport, parked your car, found your gate, showed your ticket, and walked onto the plane. Yet now millions of American citizens subject themselves to this intrusive process every day. Why? Fear itself. We don't want another 9/11. We already know that we are not terrorists. We do nothing illegal. We hold no malice toward any of our fellow travelers. Yet we submit. Why? We don't want another 9/11. Fear itself drives us to willingly suspend a few of our basic American rights in the interest of protecting the greater good. No one objects. No one paints swastikas on the x-ray machines. No one protests. Fear itself dictates otherwise. And because we do submit, because we allow the state to do this, then only legitimate terrorists, drug traffickers, or smugglers need feel the least bit threatened by this process. As well they should. Because we as a society freely choose not to tolerate their criminal presence in our midst.
Is the fear of honest ranchers and citizens of Arizona, recently shaken by the heinous murder of one of their own, any less founded in reality? Any less reasonable? Any less worthy of state protection? Was not the unprovoked attack on an upstanding citizen on his own land, presumably by someone who entered the country illegally, similar in substance if not numbers to 9/11? Is it any wonder that an outraged society seeks not recrimination, but protection against another such despicable event?
Sadly, even with all our constitutional protections, our system really is subject to abuse, ironically in part due to the very freedoms it protects. As citizens of this nation we share a very painful history of unconscionable abuses of our own citizens, deplorably often along lines of racial and ethnic bias. I am not naive. I know that racism targeting Hispanics exists in my home state. I witnessed it all too often as I grew up there. It appalled me then and it infuriates me now. I fully understand why many of our citizens would mistrust a law that puts so much potentially abusive power into the hands of law enforcers. But the operative word there is "potentially." It need not be actual. As a society we can and should vigorously defend the rights of all Americans against discrimination. We must continue to eradicate intolerance and racism from our society. I sincerely believe that men and women of good will, as aggressively as they wish to stem the tide of criminal invasion, will equaly rise to protect the lives and rights of all fellow law abiding citizens, regardless of race or ethnicity.
By the end of the movie, the former Stasi captain, Gerd Wiesler, becomes a "good man." Really, he always was. As Ash reflects in his review, no Stasi were ever really evil men. They were good men who did bad things, manipulated by their government and the tenets to which they were compelled to subscribe. The proponents and opponents of the new Arizona law are all good men and women. Not an evil one among them. We can only hope that the final outcome of this sometimes bitter debate will be based not on the will of those who stand to gain or lose materially in the solution, but in the hearts and minds of those men and women of good will, regardless of race or family history, who hold this truth to be inalienable...that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. Legally, of course.
If not, or even if you did, here's a link to a pretty good synopsis: The Lives of Others (Das Leben der Anderen), plus a Roger Ebert review, and an interesting albeit wordy review entitled, The Stasi on Our Minds. Finally, a bit of history about the German Democratic Republic, aka East Germany, and its Ministry of State Security, commonly known as The Stasi. I provide these links because I am no expert on any of these subjects. Therefore I must share my sources for independent perusal and interpretation by anyone who reads this post.
This is all a set up for discussion about the implications of Arizona's new immigration law. A couple of readers privately voiced to me similar concerns to those reflected in the more vociferous public demonstrations by frijole-wielding swastika painters in the Arizona capitol. Opponents claim that the stringent provisions of the law predispose America to become a totalitarian, racial profiling, freedom robbing society like the GDR, USSR, or even Nazi Germany. Supporters, on the other hand, argue that the new law simply provides legitimate enforcement teeth to protect law abiding citizens against the threats posed by an emboldened, nefarious invasion force of bandits. Both sides share a common emotion: fear itself, as in "All we have to fear is...".
How many of the emotional proponents on either side of this debate have actually read the new Arizona law, and the Federal code to which it refers, and figured out for themselves what it says or doesn't say? How many simply rely on the biased characterizations of pundits and media who can spin the truth in either direction to support their own agendas? How many mindlessly align themselves with those whose views validate their own intrinsic fears...fears that may have little or no relationship to the substance of this debate?
How does this one law enable a Stasi-like violation and manipulation of American citizens as depicted in the German film? How exactly does this law enable the transformation of Arizona's governor into a modern Erich Honecker? What about it makes honest law enforcement officers like my nephew - who currently serves the U.S. Border Patrol - into Stasi, KGB, Gestapo, or even Khmer Rouge? Frankly, only fear itself -- fear that politicians and police will wantonly abuse the law's protective provisions to their own benefit or to serve their own biases.
On the other hand, earlier today a colleague cogently asked me what provision in this new law would have prevented the tragedy that befell my cousin? Again, only fear itself -- fear of righteous recrimination by an outraged people who have finally had enough and are willing to fight back, armed with the legal means by which to do so. Are we to believe that legal enforcement of this law alone will stem the tide of criminal activity across our borders? Not likely. But it might be a good start, and at least takes some action instead of the incessant do-nothing talk of the last decade or so.
Can we compare our American society and way of life to that of the GDR or other totalitarian states of the former eastern block? Do we find similarities in our histories? Any common weakness upon which abusive politicians or law enforcement officers could wantonly tread without fear of accountability? Unlike those former totalitarian countries, America was founded and strengthened by immigrants, many of whom came here to escape discrimination and repression in their native lands. In so doing, they established a system of government designed to protect the inalienable rights of all human beings. The repressive East German government, and others like it, operated on a far different premise. The state-sponsored widespread incursions into and trampling of human rights by the Stasi existed for the protection of the regime and its leaders, not for the citizens. To assure their own survival, these politicians had to vigorously supress the enemy within, their own people, rather than invaders from outside their borders. Could the same happen in America?
Perhaps it could. Perhaps, even as a free American citizen, I might be compelled to stand quietly docile in a long line, careful not to utter even a critical joke about the process unfolding in front of me or my ultimate intent for being in that place. Once I reach the head of the line, I might have to silently show my papers, several times, to the guards and inspectors. Then upon demand I might meekly remove certain articles of my clothing prior to subjecting myself to electronic and/or physical search. Maybe I would also surrender my personal belongings for additional inspection. Perhaps, without any resistance whatsoever, I might have to allow a total stranger - in full view of other total strangers - to grope into my most personal possessions and to remove any item that he or she believes could possibly assist me in harming my fellow citizens.
Totalitarian state? Racial profiling? Violation of personal freedom? No. Just federally mandated airport security. I remember when no such thing existed. You simply drove to the airport, parked your car, found your gate, showed your ticket, and walked onto the plane. Yet now millions of American citizens subject themselves to this intrusive process every day. Why? Fear itself. We don't want another 9/11. We already know that we are not terrorists. We do nothing illegal. We hold no malice toward any of our fellow travelers. Yet we submit. Why? We don't want another 9/11. Fear itself drives us to willingly suspend a few of our basic American rights in the interest of protecting the greater good. No one objects. No one paints swastikas on the x-ray machines. No one protests. Fear itself dictates otherwise. And because we do submit, because we allow the state to do this, then only legitimate terrorists, drug traffickers, or smugglers need feel the least bit threatened by this process. As well they should. Because we as a society freely choose not to tolerate their criminal presence in our midst.
Is the fear of honest ranchers and citizens of Arizona, recently shaken by the heinous murder of one of their own, any less founded in reality? Any less reasonable? Any less worthy of state protection? Was not the unprovoked attack on an upstanding citizen on his own land, presumably by someone who entered the country illegally, similar in substance if not numbers to 9/11? Is it any wonder that an outraged society seeks not recrimination, but protection against another such despicable event?
Sadly, even with all our constitutional protections, our system really is subject to abuse, ironically in part due to the very freedoms it protects. As citizens of this nation we share a very painful history of unconscionable abuses of our own citizens, deplorably often along lines of racial and ethnic bias. I am not naive. I know that racism targeting Hispanics exists in my home state. I witnessed it all too often as I grew up there. It appalled me then and it infuriates me now. I fully understand why many of our citizens would mistrust a law that puts so much potentially abusive power into the hands of law enforcers. But the operative word there is "potentially." It need not be actual. As a society we can and should vigorously defend the rights of all Americans against discrimination. We must continue to eradicate intolerance and racism from our society. I sincerely believe that men and women of good will, as aggressively as they wish to stem the tide of criminal invasion, will equaly rise to protect the lives and rights of all fellow law abiding citizens, regardless of race or ethnicity.
By the end of the movie, the former Stasi captain, Gerd Wiesler, becomes a "good man." Really, he always was. As Ash reflects in his review, no Stasi were ever really evil men. They were good men who did bad things, manipulated by their government and the tenets to which they were compelled to subscribe. The proponents and opponents of the new Arizona law are all good men and women. Not an evil one among them. We can only hope that the final outcome of this sometimes bitter debate will be based not on the will of those who stand to gain or lose materially in the solution, but in the hearts and minds of those men and women of good will, regardless of race or family history, who hold this truth to be inalienable...that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. Legally, of course.
Monday, April 26, 2010
"The Lives of Others" and Arizona - Part A
First things first:
If you have not seen the 2006 critically acclaimed German film Das Leben der Anderen (The Lives of Others), stop what you are doing right now. Gallop, don't trot or canter, to your nearest video store or download service and get that movie. (It will be in German with English subtitles.) Watch it tonight or at your first opportunity to immerse yourself into a subtle yet riveting multisensory sojourn into essential humanity. If possible watch it with good friends or a loved one, because you will want to talk about it after viewing.
In any event, whether you've seen the film or not, I'll be back soon with the rest of this post.
Enjoy the show.
If you have not seen the 2006 critically acclaimed German film Das Leben der Anderen (The Lives of Others), stop what you are doing right now. Gallop, don't trot or canter, to your nearest video store or download service and get that movie. (It will be in German with English subtitles.) Watch it tonight or at your first opportunity to immerse yourself into a subtle yet riveting multisensory sojourn into essential humanity. If possible watch it with good friends or a loved one, because you will want to talk about it after viewing.
In any event, whether you've seen the film or not, I'll be back soon with the rest of this post.
Enjoy the show.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
"INFANT FEMALE"
This story just gets better...
After yesterday's post, I received additional history from my aunt in Arizona. My dad's youngest sister, she is one of the few surviving members of that pioneering nuclear family. The additional detail is worth sharing in a sequel post (without political spin, this time). Herein is just one of many, many similar sagas of migrating families that flooded America during the early 20th century, each with its own hopes and visions of achieving the American dream.
As it happened, Sarah Arizona's father preceded his wife from Glasgow to America months before his wife's soujourn. So Sarah's mother, well-advanced in pregnancy, sailed across the Atlantic accompanied only by a sister, Elizabeth. Her $11.00 ticket, plenty pricey in those days, just bought her a spot in steerage among crowded, stinky conditions.
Not surprisingly under such austere circumstances, Sarah was born prematurely on the 4th of July, well ahead of her mid-September due date. One can only imagine that gruesome delivery, presumably with only minimal medical support, if any at all, let alone the mortality threat to an infant born at not quite seven months' gestation. Clearly a hardy soul, Sarah's life would be a challenge from the very moment she entered the world. Along with her ship's number, the "Arizona" ship's log listed her only as "INFANT FEMALE."
It also turns out that Ellis Island was not yet opened when Sarah and her mother arrived in the USA. (Lesson learned: Verify facts before publishing assumptions.) So they must have come directly into the docks in New York City. The new father was unaware of the baby, and he almost sat on her when he met up with them!
Eventually this nascent American family wound up in Gallup, NM, where they had another child, Paddy. But, common for that era, Sarah Arizona's mother died when Sarah was about 9 or 10. My dad and his siblings never got to know or even meet the strong and resilient Irish immigrant who was their maternal grandmother.
Their grandpa, after appropriate interval I'm sure, then sent to Boston for a mail order bride. (My aunt swears this is true.) His new Mrs. was also of Irish descent, and they had two sons, Will and Frank. Perhaps in dramatic foreshadowing, Sarah's half-brother Will was murdered sometime during that decade, presumably by Indians. It was, after all, the wild, wild West.
At age 15, Sarah traveled to visit friends in Prescott, AZ, which was a "fer piece" in those days. There she met Frank Ignatius, whom she married in October, 1904, at the tender age of 22. They lived for awhile in Winslow, AZ before moving to Douglas around 1912. We pretty much know the rest of the story. Sarah and her brood lived long and prosperously in their fulfillment of the American dream. As I recall, my grandmother Sarah was 96 years old when she died. Her oldest daughter lived past 100, and her two oldest sons, including my dad, passed on as nonagenarians.
In researching this family history, I came across a fascinating source. I share the following link for anyone interested in the early years of Arizona and it's pioneers. The title is "Arizona, Prehistoric, Aboriginal, Pioneer, Modern, The Nation's Youngest Commonwealth Within A Land Of Ancient Culture.", by James H. McClintock. The link is to the 3rd and last volume of a set published in 1916, only four years after Arizona achieved statehood. Contained therein are some fascinating biographies of its early pioneers and settlers, including some with historically famous names like John Slaughter. Enjoy.
I sign off by reflecting how that hardy, courageous generation of early immigrants spawned what would later become "The Greatest Generation." That generation, in turn, produced us Baby Boomers. May our children's children be so fortunate as to inherit a similar legacy!
After yesterday's post, I received additional history from my aunt in Arizona. My dad's youngest sister, she is one of the few surviving members of that pioneering nuclear family. The additional detail is worth sharing in a sequel post (without political spin, this time). Herein is just one of many, many similar sagas of migrating families that flooded America during the early 20th century, each with its own hopes and visions of achieving the American dream.
As it happened, Sarah Arizona's father preceded his wife from Glasgow to America months before his wife's soujourn. So Sarah's mother, well-advanced in pregnancy, sailed across the Atlantic accompanied only by a sister, Elizabeth. Her $11.00 ticket, plenty pricey in those days, just bought her a spot in steerage among crowded, stinky conditions.
Not surprisingly under such austere circumstances, Sarah was born prematurely on the 4th of July, well ahead of her mid-September due date. One can only imagine that gruesome delivery, presumably with only minimal medical support, if any at all, let alone the mortality threat to an infant born at not quite seven months' gestation. Clearly a hardy soul, Sarah's life would be a challenge from the very moment she entered the world. Along with her ship's number, the "Arizona" ship's log listed her only as "INFANT FEMALE."
It also turns out that Ellis Island was not yet opened when Sarah and her mother arrived in the USA. (Lesson learned: Verify facts before publishing assumptions.) So they must have come directly into the docks in New York City. The new father was unaware of the baby, and he almost sat on her when he met up with them!
Eventually this nascent American family wound up in Gallup, NM, where they had another child, Paddy. But, common for that era, Sarah Arizona's mother died when Sarah was about 9 or 10. My dad and his siblings never got to know or even meet the strong and resilient Irish immigrant who was their maternal grandmother.
Their grandpa, after appropriate interval I'm sure, then sent to Boston for a mail order bride. (My aunt swears this is true.) His new Mrs. was also of Irish descent, and they had two sons, Will and Frank. Perhaps in dramatic foreshadowing, Sarah's half-brother Will was murdered sometime during that decade, presumably by Indians. It was, after all, the wild, wild West.
At age 15, Sarah traveled to visit friends in Prescott, AZ, which was a "fer piece" in those days. There she met Frank Ignatius, whom she married in October, 1904, at the tender age of 22. They lived for awhile in Winslow, AZ before moving to Douglas around 1912. We pretty much know the rest of the story. Sarah and her brood lived long and prosperously in their fulfillment of the American dream. As I recall, my grandmother Sarah was 96 years old when she died. Her oldest daughter lived past 100, and her two oldest sons, including my dad, passed on as nonagenarians.
In researching this family history, I came across a fascinating source. I share the following link for anyone interested in the early years of Arizona and it's pioneers. The title is "Arizona, Prehistoric, Aboriginal, Pioneer, Modern, The Nation's Youngest Commonwealth Within A Land Of Ancient Culture.", by James H. McClintock. The link is to the 3rd and last volume of a set published in 1916, only four years after Arizona achieved statehood. Contained therein are some fascinating biographies of its early pioneers and settlers, including some with historically famous names like John Slaughter. Enjoy.
I sign off by reflecting how that hardy, courageous generation of early immigrants spawned what would later become "The Greatest Generation." That generation, in turn, produced us Baby Boomers. May our children's children be so fortunate as to inherit a similar legacy!
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Misguided? I Think Not!
July 4, 1882: A child was born. Born on the 4th of July. Independence Day in the United States of America.
This child was not born in the USA. She drew her first breath on an ocean steamer, the daughter of Irish emigrants en route to a new life of freedom in America. So, in addition to her Christian first name, "Sarah," her parents made her middle name the same as the ship on which they sailed, "Arizona."
What dreams did Sarah Arizona's parents harbor in their bosoms as they traversed the mighty ocean? What hopes? What aspirations for their infant daughter who would live her entire life in the land of the free? Could they have fathomed that their baby girl would become the matriarch of a pioneering family making its own legacy in the state that also bore her middle name? Could they imagine that their child would become a living example of the American dream, where hard work, perseverance, and ingenuity reap rewards for oneself and those who follow?
Like most European immigrants, Sarah's parents entered the American melting pot legally through Ellis Island. They did not sneak across its borders under cover of darkness. Did not hire a coyote to smuggle them in. Did not bring illicit drugs or contraband to sell on a black market. Did not bear arms. Did not kill anyone.
They came with whatever possessions they could bring, and with their hopes and dreams, and their determination to labor as hard and as long as it may take to carve out a life for themselves and their children in the land of freedom.
Some ten years earlier, a twenty year old man named Julius Ignatius had emigrated to the USA from Alsace-Lorraine. He also entered the country legally, and settled in St. Louis, MO, where he became established in the meat industry. He had three sons, with whom he eventually moved to Arizona as meat industry pioneers. One of those sons, Frank Ignatius, married Sarah Arizona on October 9, 1904. Together they had 12 children, nine of whom survived to adulthood. One of those nine was my dad. And his nephew, my cousin, was murdered last month on his own land, apparently by an illegal alien.
Frank and Sarah founded a ranching business that has endured for over 100 years. In every respect it epitomizes the actualization of the American dream: A son and daughter of immigrants make a free and profitable life for themselves. Their offspring and the offspring of their offspring reap the rewards. But those rewards were earned, through hard work, perseverance, and committment to a legal business that produces food to keep Americans healthy. Those rewards were not stolen, not connived; not procured through illicit trade in mind-altering substances that destroy the health not only of individuals, but ultimately of a whole society. No, theirs were just rewards spawned from and nurtured by honest labor.
This family's legacy is just one example of the rugged pioneer spirit that built my home state of Arizona. Growing up there, I learned the value and necessity of being both fiercely self-reliant yet generous to my neighbors, to both protect and share, defend and give away. So I fully understand why - in the face of armed invasion by illegal traffickers in substances of destruction - this state would adopt rigid and aggressive protections to preserve that freedom so hardly won by those early pioneers.
I consider it extremely offensive that the leader of the free world - who should be quite familiar with the evils of organized crime and the extraordinary struggle to control it - would patronizingly use the word "misguided" in reference to this state's latest effort to protect its citizens...especially in light of the long history of rhetoric-only federal engagement.
Make no mistake. I love Mexico. I love Mexican people. I happily spent 3 1/2 formative childhood years living in that fine country. I fondly recall my parents' enthusiasm and warm memories of our sojourn into to the heart of its rich culture. And I never hesitate to return to Mexico when the opportunity arises. But I do so legally with passport in hand. This issue is not about Mexico or its people. It is not about the millions of legal Mexican-Americans whose contributions to this nation have been so deeply powerful. It is not even about those who wish to legalize their current questionable presence in this country, to be afforded the same opportunity as any other citizen to labor in pursuit of the American dream.
No, this is only about those who would steal that freedom from others, by taking their goods, their property, their land, or worse, their lives. It is about those who capitalize on our generosity and egalitarian nature to violate our citizens and their freedoms. They are the worst sort of criminals, and as a society we must not allow them to prey upon innocent Americans of any ethnic background. How can it be any more misguided to adopt strong measures to fight organized crime across our southern borders today than it was to aggressively fight back when similar criminals owned the streets of Chicago?
We correctly tout that freedom is not free. We could also avow that the long, winding road to freedom cannot be circumvented. There are no shortcuts to the American dream, least of all at the expense of our law-abiding citizens. For states to put obstacles in the way of modern bandits and thugs who would steal freedom from legal travelers is not misguided. It is prudent. It is right. And absent honestly genuine effort from national leadership, it is inevitable.
This child was not born in the USA. She drew her first breath on an ocean steamer, the daughter of Irish emigrants en route to a new life of freedom in America. So, in addition to her Christian first name, "Sarah," her parents made her middle name the same as the ship on which they sailed, "Arizona."
What dreams did Sarah Arizona's parents harbor in their bosoms as they traversed the mighty ocean? What hopes? What aspirations for their infant daughter who would live her entire life in the land of the free? Could they have fathomed that their baby girl would become the matriarch of a pioneering family making its own legacy in the state that also bore her middle name? Could they imagine that their child would become a living example of the American dream, where hard work, perseverance, and ingenuity reap rewards for oneself and those who follow?
Like most European immigrants, Sarah's parents entered the American melting pot legally through Ellis Island. They did not sneak across its borders under cover of darkness. Did not hire a coyote to smuggle them in. Did not bring illicit drugs or contraband to sell on a black market. Did not bear arms. Did not kill anyone.
They came with whatever possessions they could bring, and with their hopes and dreams, and their determination to labor as hard and as long as it may take to carve out a life for themselves and their children in the land of freedom.
Some ten years earlier, a twenty year old man named Julius Ignatius had emigrated to the USA from Alsace-Lorraine. He also entered the country legally, and settled in St. Louis, MO, where he became established in the meat industry. He had three sons, with whom he eventually moved to Arizona as meat industry pioneers. One of those sons, Frank Ignatius, married Sarah Arizona on October 9, 1904. Together they had 12 children, nine of whom survived to adulthood. One of those nine was my dad. And his nephew, my cousin, was murdered last month on his own land, apparently by an illegal alien.
Frank and Sarah founded a ranching business that has endured for over 100 years. In every respect it epitomizes the actualization of the American dream: A son and daughter of immigrants make a free and profitable life for themselves. Their offspring and the offspring of their offspring reap the rewards. But those rewards were earned, through hard work, perseverance, and committment to a legal business that produces food to keep Americans healthy. Those rewards were not stolen, not connived; not procured through illicit trade in mind-altering substances that destroy the health not only of individuals, but ultimately of a whole society. No, theirs were just rewards spawned from and nurtured by honest labor.
This family's legacy is just one example of the rugged pioneer spirit that built my home state of Arizona. Growing up there, I learned the value and necessity of being both fiercely self-reliant yet generous to my neighbors, to both protect and share, defend and give away. So I fully understand why - in the face of armed invasion by illegal traffickers in substances of destruction - this state would adopt rigid and aggressive protections to preserve that freedom so hardly won by those early pioneers.
I consider it extremely offensive that the leader of the free world - who should be quite familiar with the evils of organized crime and the extraordinary struggle to control it - would patronizingly use the word "misguided" in reference to this state's latest effort to protect its citizens...especially in light of the long history of rhetoric-only federal engagement.
Make no mistake. I love Mexico. I love Mexican people. I happily spent 3 1/2 formative childhood years living in that fine country. I fondly recall my parents' enthusiasm and warm memories of our sojourn into to the heart of its rich culture. And I never hesitate to return to Mexico when the opportunity arises. But I do so legally with passport in hand. This issue is not about Mexico or its people. It is not about the millions of legal Mexican-Americans whose contributions to this nation have been so deeply powerful. It is not even about those who wish to legalize their current questionable presence in this country, to be afforded the same opportunity as any other citizen to labor in pursuit of the American dream.
No, this is only about those who would steal that freedom from others, by taking their goods, their property, their land, or worse, their lives. It is about those who capitalize on our generosity and egalitarian nature to violate our citizens and their freedoms. They are the worst sort of criminals, and as a society we must not allow them to prey upon innocent Americans of any ethnic background. How can it be any more misguided to adopt strong measures to fight organized crime across our southern borders today than it was to aggressively fight back when similar criminals owned the streets of Chicago?
We correctly tout that freedom is not free. We could also avow that the long, winding road to freedom cannot be circumvented. There are no shortcuts to the American dream, least of all at the expense of our law-abiding citizens. For states to put obstacles in the way of modern bandits and thugs who would steal freedom from legal travelers is not misguided. It is prudent. It is right. And absent honestly genuine effort from national leadership, it is inevitable.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Songkran Cycling
Every April, Thailand celebrates Songkran, the Lunar New Year. Much like their Western allies, the Thais ring out the old year and ring in the new by getting soaked. Well, not exactly like their Western friends. Although there is plenty of alcohol in play, the Thais also celebrate two solid days of throwing water onto each other and anyone else passing by. They often mix the water with chalk and mentholated talcum. And they paint each other's faces and arms with water/chalk paste. While these activities have a real historical and cultural basis, they also constitute the world's largest and most festive water weapon war.
Pictured below, four spandex clad visiting American Navy cyclists pause in Pattaya for a group photo while still dry...just before running the gauntlet of happy Thai water-throwing New Year partiers.
On initial approach, only small bands of potential adversaries occupy the path. These early encounters involve only squirts and sprinkles of cool water, a pleasant effect for the riders on a hot day.
However, as we approach the more populated center of Pattaya, the volume of revelers and water, and the sophistication of the delivery methods, increases dramatically.
Soon we come across traveling bands of water-throwers. So it's a mobile as well as stationary force.
And the mobile forces easily attract new recruits.
As the day wears on and more water warriors enter the fray, traffic jams limit the maneuverability of the cyclists, making them more vulnerable to simultaneous attack from different quarters.
We eventually take our full hits.
Not pictured here, because one does have to maintain constant control of one's two-wheeler in this traffic-rich environment, the Americans engage in a brief retaliatory strike from our own water bottles. We are significantly outmatched in force numbers and firepower. In the end, we simply surrender to enjoying the scene, put our heads down, and pedal through the gauntlet...chalk/water and all. We are not the only ones getting soaked.
On return to Mother we conduct major bike cleaning.
I haven't had that much random water fun since I was a kid in hot Arizona summers.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Big Top Impressions
Way back in my pre-Navy Texas days, a certain radio commercial always caught my ear. A guy with a prototypical Texas accent would exhort, "Yah don't wohnt half a shebang, yah wohnt the whole shebang!"
I forget what that particular Texan was selling, but I doubt I will ever forget my first visit to Laem Chabang, Thailand. Now Laem Chabang is just a huge seaport, but Pattaya City, a mere 15 miles away, is indeed the whole shebang, at least for this elder sailor's first visit to Thailand. Expecting to devote several blog entries (most with photos) to this particular shebang, I begin with a description of our Flagship's signature maritime partnership engagement event, the Big Top.
A Big Top, named for the large awning/tent erected over the main deck, is a reception that we host whenever we visit a a foreign port for engagement. These are serious events, every bit as important for our national security interests as more traditional maritime operations. For all the treaties, all the diplomacy, all the high level negotiations, all the state dinners between our nations and its allies in this part of the world, nothing has more shebang for the buck than fundamental human interaction between American sailors and the people whose countries we are honored to visit.
Our hard working enlisted sailors, culinary specialists as well as volunteers from other rates, spend several days preparing for this event. Not only do they convert the main deck into a reception pavilion, they prepare a superb selection of hors de'ouvres, bake a nicely decorated cake featuring the flags of the U.S. and our host nation, and break out the ship's supply of wine and beer that is otherwise closely held under lock and key. Most of this occurs right outside my stateroom just below the main deck, so I see that these kids work hard to put on these events. They do so with enthusiasm, because they appreciate the value of their product to the overall mission of the Fleet Commander.
Once the evening arrives, Officers and Chiefs don their dress uniforms, a red carpet is laid out, and the Fleet Band takes its place, not only for national anthems but to provide the evening's entertainment. (Capable of any musical genre, the latter men and women could just as well play Carnegie Hall. Tonight's offering was New Orleans jazz, which our guests thoroughly enjoyed.) Dignitaries and senior officers from the host nation are bonged aboard with proper ceremony. Colors are paraded. The Admiral and his most senior ranking counterpart render honors for the national anthems, then make appropriately short speeches. Finally the guests and hosts engage in great conversation, and great fun.
Our opening Big Top in Thailand was especially memorable. Several hundred people from a variety of backgrounds and nationalities came to socialize and network. We hosted not only the Royal Thai Navy leaders and members, but various embassy staffs and military attaches from a range of nations. The band was superb. The food impeccable and tasty. And the wine and beer was welcome not only to our guests, but to those of us who had just survived a week of sleep-deprived circadian rhythm disrupted exercise activity sustained by gallons of caffeine and sheer perseverance.
So these activities are indeed fun, but the main purpose remains team building with our guests, a key part of our mission. Each of us is expected to do his/her part and act like the excellent ambassadors we are -- one conversation and one courteous gesture at a time. For this consummate introvert, that's a tall order. But the outcome is always beyond expectation. And, if we do this job right, maybe we can sustain peace in this region of the world without a shot ever being fired in anger.
A few vignettes from this particular engagement:
Met a Royal Thai Marine who is a dedicated bicyclist like many of us on the staff. He gave us advice on how/where to ride. We wheelpeople do appreciate local advice before venturing forth on our first ride in a foreign land.
A corpulent Omani military attache, probably born only a decade after me, dancing to the jazz music and maneuvering to get photographed with one of our attractive young female ensigns.
Our civilian wunderkind intelligence expert, who is same age and much resembles Katie, chatting with a Russian and then Chinese guy, each in their native languages.
My liberty buddy and fellow cyclist rounding up the local volunteer police to give us more advice on where and how to ride the next day.
A female senior Naval Aviator engaging an Indian Air Force officer on aviation topics. Flying has its own universal language.
Chatting with the Australian defense attache and reminiscing about our swing last fall through Sydney and Cairns.
These were just a small part of the individual conversations and gestures that came together over the course of a single night to weave a tapestry of understanding, mutual respect, and discovery of shared values and shared visions of a free society.
You'll never read about this in the newspaper, and you won't see it on any of the news channels. But it is a real mission, carried out with utmost aplomb by dedicated professionals, and achieving the desired effect of promoting peace throughout the world. It was, indeed, the whole shebang.
I forget what that particular Texan was selling, but I doubt I will ever forget my first visit to Laem Chabang, Thailand. Now Laem Chabang is just a huge seaport, but Pattaya City, a mere 15 miles away, is indeed the whole shebang, at least for this elder sailor's first visit to Thailand. Expecting to devote several blog entries (most with photos) to this particular shebang, I begin with a description of our Flagship's signature maritime partnership engagement event, the Big Top.
A Big Top, named for the large awning/tent erected over the main deck, is a reception that we host whenever we visit a a foreign port for engagement. These are serious events, every bit as important for our national security interests as more traditional maritime operations. For all the treaties, all the diplomacy, all the high level negotiations, all the state dinners between our nations and its allies in this part of the world, nothing has more shebang for the buck than fundamental human interaction between American sailors and the people whose countries we are honored to visit.
Our hard working enlisted sailors, culinary specialists as well as volunteers from other rates, spend several days preparing for this event. Not only do they convert the main deck into a reception pavilion, they prepare a superb selection of hors de'ouvres, bake a nicely decorated cake featuring the flags of the U.S. and our host nation, and break out the ship's supply of wine and beer that is otherwise closely held under lock and key. Most of this occurs right outside my stateroom just below the main deck, so I see that these kids work hard to put on these events. They do so with enthusiasm, because they appreciate the value of their product to the overall mission of the Fleet Commander.
Once the evening arrives, Officers and Chiefs don their dress uniforms, a red carpet is laid out, and the Fleet Band takes its place, not only for national anthems but to provide the evening's entertainment. (Capable of any musical genre, the latter men and women could just as well play Carnegie Hall. Tonight's offering was New Orleans jazz, which our guests thoroughly enjoyed.) Dignitaries and senior officers from the host nation are bonged aboard with proper ceremony. Colors are paraded. The Admiral and his most senior ranking counterpart render honors for the national anthems, then make appropriately short speeches. Finally the guests and hosts engage in great conversation, and great fun.
Our opening Big Top in Thailand was especially memorable. Several hundred people from a variety of backgrounds and nationalities came to socialize and network. We hosted not only the Royal Thai Navy leaders and members, but various embassy staffs and military attaches from a range of nations. The band was superb. The food impeccable and tasty. And the wine and beer was welcome not only to our guests, but to those of us who had just survived a week of sleep-deprived circadian rhythm disrupted exercise activity sustained by gallons of caffeine and sheer perseverance.
So these activities are indeed fun, but the main purpose remains team building with our guests, a key part of our mission. Each of us is expected to do his/her part and act like the excellent ambassadors we are -- one conversation and one courteous gesture at a time. For this consummate introvert, that's a tall order. But the outcome is always beyond expectation. And, if we do this job right, maybe we can sustain peace in this region of the world without a shot ever being fired in anger.
A few vignettes from this particular engagement:
Met a Royal Thai Marine who is a dedicated bicyclist like many of us on the staff. He gave us advice on how/where to ride. We wheelpeople do appreciate local advice before venturing forth on our first ride in a foreign land.
A corpulent Omani military attache, probably born only a decade after me, dancing to the jazz music and maneuvering to get photographed with one of our attractive young female ensigns.
Our civilian wunderkind intelligence expert, who is same age and much resembles Katie, chatting with a Russian and then Chinese guy, each in their native languages.
My liberty buddy and fellow cyclist rounding up the local volunteer police to give us more advice on where and how to ride the next day.
A female senior Naval Aviator engaging an Indian Air Force officer on aviation topics. Flying has its own universal language.
Chatting with the Australian defense attache and reminiscing about our swing last fall through Sydney and Cairns.
These were just a small part of the individual conversations and gestures that came together over the course of a single night to weave a tapestry of understanding, mutual respect, and discovery of shared values and shared visions of a free society.
You'll never read about this in the newspaper, and you won't see it on any of the news channels. But it is a real mission, carried out with utmost aplomb by dedicated professionals, and achieving the desired effect of promoting peace throughout the world. It was, indeed, the whole shebang.
Monday, April 19, 2010
Indonesia: Contrasts
We spent about two days and a night pierside in Jakarta, Indonesia. While not an inherently dangerous place, past history dictated more restrictions on liberty here than our other port visits. As a mark of some progress in that, this time we had a novel opportunity to bus into the center of Jakarta, to the site of several supermalls and high end tourist hotels. I proudly claim a Starbucks "Jakarta" mug as a souvenir of that adventure.
In terms of population, the Indonesia archipelago is the largest Muslim country in the world. I do not pretend to know Jakarta, much less Indonesia, from only this brief excursion. But I did come away with visual images that strongly speak to stark contrasts -- between eastern and western culture, and between poverty and opulence. Some samples:
Traffic is a challenge. Like everywhere in Asia, motor scooters are a popular way to get around, especially if you are young.
This is not the mall we visited. That mall was very high end, with stores from all over the world and a huge food court that included even a Pepper Lunch. Yes, Yokosuka readers, it was the same Pepper Lunch we enjoy in Japan.
East meets West. I am reminded that corporations are now larger than nations, in many ways.
In terms of population, the Indonesia archipelago is the largest Muslim country in the world. I do not pretend to know Jakarta, much less Indonesia, from only this brief excursion. But I did come away with visual images that strongly speak to stark contrasts -- between eastern and western culture, and between poverty and opulence. Some samples:
East meets West. I am reminded that corporations are now larger than nations, in many ways.
Statuary abounds in this city.
Did I mention stark contrasts? These last four images speak of it more profoundly than any words I could conjure:
For whatever faults or problems we have, I believe America is still a pretty great place to live!
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