The handbill plastered on the lamppost
Advertised a reading by a local poet
The poet had full lips
Sensitive eyes
Thick hair
Gentle features
A warm smile
His new book of poems was just out
And for $5 I could listen to him
Read
In a coffee house
All proceeds destined for the Food Bank
I’m sure the poet loves his mother
And gets along with his siblings
I’m sure he drives a hybrid car
Casts his ballot in every election
Takes in stray cats
I’m sure he pays his taxes
And recycles aluminum cans
I’m sure he’s never slapped a woman
Cursed a cab driver
Stiffed a waiter
Embezzled money
Or puked in the gutter after a long night
Of bar crawling
His poems are probably sweet and uplifting
Lyrical
Celebrations of beauty and truth
The glory of sunsets and the magic
Of a harvest moon
In other words he’s full of
Crap
A pretender
A liar
A charlatan
He’s blind to the grimness of human existence
The cruelty and suffering inflicted on the powerless
By the powerful
On the poor by the rich
On the weak by the strong
I slipped a buck to a panhandler
And walked on;
I despise poets
Except
Of course
Old
Chuck Bukowski
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
So Long, Labor Dog
All victories for working people – no matter how small – are hard won.
Anonymous
My friend, colleague and mentor Bill Millard passed away a few days ago. If anyone knew how difficult it is to win gains for workers it was Bill because he was an old “labor dog” who had been in the thick of many tough fights on behalf of working people.
In Bill’s case those people were carpenters and accounting clerks and bus drivers and instructional assistants and plumbers and bakers and cooks and groundskeepers and purchasing agents and custodians – all of them employed by public school districts in California – unseen and unheard for the most part, those that work behind the scenes; Bill gave these people presence and voice.
Bill once drove a school bus for a living, and I’d wager that he was good at his trade and took pride in doing the job well because that’s the way he was wired. He got started in the labor movement as an active member in a local and became a professional labor relations representative. He negotiated and wrote contracts, filed and settled grievances, counseled employees, and agitated for legislation to protect workers.
Most of all, Bill taught working men and women to seize responsibility for their own fates by banding together and looking out for their common benefit – a concept that seems utterly foreign in this era of “me-first” greed.
The labor movement was more than a vocation for Bill – it was an intense passion more demanding than any woman, requiring the stamina and grit of a marathon runner, the patience of a Buddhist monk, and the mental toughness of a prizefighter. The battle for decent wages and safe working conditions, for respect and dignity, for basic fairness, has always been uphill against formidable odds.
Bill was a Liberal’s Liberal and proud of it and we immediately hit it off. Even though he was a decade and a half my senior, we shared an intense dislike for Ronald Reagan and William Jefferson Clinton as well as a belief that unchecked corporate power and influence was antithetical to democracy and detrimental for working people. Injustice ticked us off.
I shared The Nation magazine with Bill and he shared Mother Jones with me.
Love of language was another thing Bill and I had in common. When it came to writing Bill was a craftsman – careful, exacting and meticulous. He’d work a sentence the same way a sculptor works a slab of granite, chipping and shaping until it was flawless.
Whenever Bill and I went into a disciplinary meeting or contract negotiations the only thing I’d want to know is whether or not he had eaten beforehand. On an empty stomach Bill was ferocious. The hungrier Bill was the shorter his temper became – and I could tell with one glance when his cork would pop. I made it a practice to have a granola bar handy, just in case.
Like all people who work in close contact with one another over a long period of time and in tense situations, we developed a shorthand method of communicating. Bill knew the word or thought I was searching for just as I knew what question he wanted to ask next. This kind of connection is rare and wonderful.
One case we worked on together revealed Bill’s character more than any other. We were representing an employee who was clearly on the wrong side of the contract, of common sense, and of every policy on the school district’s books. The man had cooked his own turkey and deserved what was coming to him – or at least that was my take. Bill didn’t disagree with my assessment but the humanist in him saw deeper, saw that this man was a damaged soul, no danger to anyone but himself, seriously flawed, no doubt about it, but still deserving of empathy.
“He doesn’t have a leg to stand on,” Bill said. “But if we don’t help him walk away with at least some dignity we’ll both regret it.”
Quintessential Bill Millard. Die-hard, hard-boiled, realistic, pragmatic and idealistic, but most of all a man who never let his professional role rob him of his humanity.
You gave me courage, old dog, courage and hope, and I know how unlikely it is that I’ll ever have the good fortune to cross paths with your kind again. Long may your spirit run.
Anonymous
My friend, colleague and mentor Bill Millard passed away a few days ago. If anyone knew how difficult it is to win gains for workers it was Bill because he was an old “labor dog” who had been in the thick of many tough fights on behalf of working people.
In Bill’s case those people were carpenters and accounting clerks and bus drivers and instructional assistants and plumbers and bakers and cooks and groundskeepers and purchasing agents and custodians – all of them employed by public school districts in California – unseen and unheard for the most part, those that work behind the scenes; Bill gave these people presence and voice.
Bill once drove a school bus for a living, and I’d wager that he was good at his trade and took pride in doing the job well because that’s the way he was wired. He got started in the labor movement as an active member in a local and became a professional labor relations representative. He negotiated and wrote contracts, filed and settled grievances, counseled employees, and agitated for legislation to protect workers.
Most of all, Bill taught working men and women to seize responsibility for their own fates by banding together and looking out for their common benefit – a concept that seems utterly foreign in this era of “me-first” greed.
The labor movement was more than a vocation for Bill – it was an intense passion more demanding than any woman, requiring the stamina and grit of a marathon runner, the patience of a Buddhist monk, and the mental toughness of a prizefighter. The battle for decent wages and safe working conditions, for respect and dignity, for basic fairness, has always been uphill against formidable odds.
Bill was a Liberal’s Liberal and proud of it and we immediately hit it off. Even though he was a decade and a half my senior, we shared an intense dislike for Ronald Reagan and William Jefferson Clinton as well as a belief that unchecked corporate power and influence was antithetical to democracy and detrimental for working people. Injustice ticked us off.
I shared The Nation magazine with Bill and he shared Mother Jones with me.
Love of language was another thing Bill and I had in common. When it came to writing Bill was a craftsman – careful, exacting and meticulous. He’d work a sentence the same way a sculptor works a slab of granite, chipping and shaping until it was flawless.
Whenever Bill and I went into a disciplinary meeting or contract negotiations the only thing I’d want to know is whether or not he had eaten beforehand. On an empty stomach Bill was ferocious. The hungrier Bill was the shorter his temper became – and I could tell with one glance when his cork would pop. I made it a practice to have a granola bar handy, just in case.
Like all people who work in close contact with one another over a long period of time and in tense situations, we developed a shorthand method of communicating. Bill knew the word or thought I was searching for just as I knew what question he wanted to ask next. This kind of connection is rare and wonderful.
One case we worked on together revealed Bill’s character more than any other. We were representing an employee who was clearly on the wrong side of the contract, of common sense, and of every policy on the school district’s books. The man had cooked his own turkey and deserved what was coming to him – or at least that was my take. Bill didn’t disagree with my assessment but the humanist in him saw deeper, saw that this man was a damaged soul, no danger to anyone but himself, seriously flawed, no doubt about it, but still deserving of empathy.
“He doesn’t have a leg to stand on,” Bill said. “But if we don’t help him walk away with at least some dignity we’ll both regret it.”
Quintessential Bill Millard. Die-hard, hard-boiled, realistic, pragmatic and idealistic, but most of all a man who never let his professional role rob him of his humanity.
You gave me courage, old dog, courage and hope, and I know how unlikely it is that I’ll ever have the good fortune to cross paths with your kind again. Long may your spirit run.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Can't Fix This
Another political season, another flood of misinformation on the TV and the radio.
Back in 2003, Californians were urged to “Join Arnold” and reform our dysfunctional state. The wealthy, charismatic and perpetually optimistic actor promised to “blow up” the boxes of state government and rub the tarnish from the California Dream.
Seven years later we know how that worked out. No need to run through Arnold’s many missteps and the mess the state is mired in.
Now voters are urged to “Join Meg” in refurbishing the dream. Meg being Meg Whitman, multi-millionaire former EBay CEO, who promises to bring corporate know-how to Sacramento and make California hum like a Fortune 500 business.
Sounds familiar, right? Republicans are fervent believers in corporate efficiency and the magic of “free” markets. Business can do no wrong, government can do no right; business is sleek and lean, government is bloated and clumsy.
I find this comparison amusing, given the recent record of Corporate America. Think of the renowned corporate names that would have destroyed the global economy or gone belly up without an infusion of taxpayer money or loan guarantees: General Motors, AIG, Citigroup, Goldman Sachs.
I don’t have any particular love for Jerry Brown but at least Brown understands that government is as different from business as an albatross is from a manatee. Governors are not autocrats and elected legislators cannot be bossed around like corporate underlings. Whitman may think she can snap her fingers and demand that assembly members bend to her will, but if she is successful in buying the governor’s office – and it appears that she has a real shot in November -- she will learn on Day One how limited her powers are.
Remember Schwarzenegger’s big tent on the grounds of the state capitol, the cigar fests he threw for legislators and key members of state government? The tent was a cornerstone of the new governor’s charm campaign but the bloom dropped off that rose in no time. Once Schwarzenegger had a taste for the way the lawmaking game really works, once the written and unwritten rules asserted themselves, the big tent came down, never to be raised again.
California doesn’t have a business problem, California has a political problem, which is why Meg Whitman -- should she fool enough voters on Election Day -- is destined for the same ignominious ride experienced by Gray Davis and Arnold Schwarzenegger.
Like New York State, California is virtually ungovernable, paralyzed by gridlock and partisan posturing. The two-thirds super majority required to enact a budget or pass even modest tax increases, term limits that drain the assembly and senate of experienced legislators, gerrymandering that guarantees election of extremists on both ends of the political spectrum, and the perverted initiative process all contribute to making the state the subway wreck it has become.
Meg can’t fix that.
Back in 2003, Californians were urged to “Join Arnold” and reform our dysfunctional state. The wealthy, charismatic and perpetually optimistic actor promised to “blow up” the boxes of state government and rub the tarnish from the California Dream.
Seven years later we know how that worked out. No need to run through Arnold’s many missteps and the mess the state is mired in.
Now voters are urged to “Join Meg” in refurbishing the dream. Meg being Meg Whitman, multi-millionaire former EBay CEO, who promises to bring corporate know-how to Sacramento and make California hum like a Fortune 500 business.
Sounds familiar, right? Republicans are fervent believers in corporate efficiency and the magic of “free” markets. Business can do no wrong, government can do no right; business is sleek and lean, government is bloated and clumsy.
I find this comparison amusing, given the recent record of Corporate America. Think of the renowned corporate names that would have destroyed the global economy or gone belly up without an infusion of taxpayer money or loan guarantees: General Motors, AIG, Citigroup, Goldman Sachs.
I don’t have any particular love for Jerry Brown but at least Brown understands that government is as different from business as an albatross is from a manatee. Governors are not autocrats and elected legislators cannot be bossed around like corporate underlings. Whitman may think she can snap her fingers and demand that assembly members bend to her will, but if she is successful in buying the governor’s office – and it appears that she has a real shot in November -- she will learn on Day One how limited her powers are.
Remember Schwarzenegger’s big tent on the grounds of the state capitol, the cigar fests he threw for legislators and key members of state government? The tent was a cornerstone of the new governor’s charm campaign but the bloom dropped off that rose in no time. Once Schwarzenegger had a taste for the way the lawmaking game really works, once the written and unwritten rules asserted themselves, the big tent came down, never to be raised again.
California doesn’t have a business problem, California has a political problem, which is why Meg Whitman -- should she fool enough voters on Election Day -- is destined for the same ignominious ride experienced by Gray Davis and Arnold Schwarzenegger.
Like New York State, California is virtually ungovernable, paralyzed by gridlock and partisan posturing. The two-thirds super majority required to enact a budget or pass even modest tax increases, term limits that drain the assembly and senate of experienced legislators, gerrymandering that guarantees election of extremists on both ends of the political spectrum, and the perverted initiative process all contribute to making the state the subway wreck it has become.
Meg can’t fix that.
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Poem: Standing in Line
The unemployment line snakes around the corner
Curves
Back upon itself;
Hope is in short supply here,
Nerves fray
Tempers flare;
One guy lost his job
Then he lost his house
His boat
And his wife
His Harley goes next
Friends got tired of hearing him complain
About his troubles – they have their own.
People are running scared
Holding on
Waiting for the economy to turn
Housing to bounce back
Or the politicians to finally do something
Most know that the odds are long
Stacked against them
Bailouts are for big banks and political insiders -
Truck drivers
Carpenters
Plumbers
House painters
Teachers
Nurses
Stand alone.
Welcome to the new Dust Bowl
People here avoid each other’s eyes
Ashamed for crimes they did not commit
Believing in magic was their only mistake
Now they pay the cost and bear the burden
Suffer the indignity of foreclosure,
Bankruptcy
And this slow-moving unemployment
Line
That curves back upon itself.
Curves
Back upon itself;
Hope is in short supply here,
Nerves fray
Tempers flare;
One guy lost his job
Then he lost his house
His boat
And his wife
His Harley goes next
Friends got tired of hearing him complain
About his troubles – they have their own.
People are running scared
Holding on
Waiting for the economy to turn
Housing to bounce back
Or the politicians to finally do something
Most know that the odds are long
Stacked against them
Bailouts are for big banks and political insiders -
Truck drivers
Carpenters
Plumbers
House painters
Teachers
Nurses
Stand alone.
Welcome to the new Dust Bowl
People here avoid each other’s eyes
Ashamed for crimes they did not commit
Believing in magic was their only mistake
Now they pay the cost and bear the burden
Suffer the indignity of foreclosure,
Bankruptcy
And this slow-moving unemployment
Line
That curves back upon itself.
Monday, September 06, 2010
For the Laborers
Labor Day is one of my favorite holidays, neck and neck with the 4th of July and Martin Luther King’s birthday. On Labor Day we remember the men and women whose toil and sweat built this country, and we celebrate the very idea of work.
Names from the past roll across my mind like movie credits: Walter Reuther, George Meany, Joe Hill, John L. Lewis, Dolores Huerta, Cesar Chavez, Studs Terkel, A. Phillip Randolph -- people who dedicated their lives to improving the condition of workers, to building a strong middle class, and to insuring that labor was valued and had a place in the national conversation, a seat at the table.
Today the “Labor Movement” is like a terminal patient on life support. Union membership in the private sector is almost non-existent; meanwhile, as state and local governments continue to reel and stagger from the sluggish economy, union members in the public realm are forced to take pay cuts, furlough days, and watch as a backlash develops against pension plans that are always described in the media as “generous,” “lucrative,” or “Cadillac.”
Rough times for wage earners today, not much hope for improvement tomorrow. The mainstream media obsesses about stock prices and quarterly earnings forecasts, as if these are the only economic barometers that matter; CEO’s that boost earnings by dumping workers into the deep end of the pool of the unemployed are rewarded with bonuses.
There is a stark disconnect between the economy described by CNBC and the reality on the street that can no longer be glossed over or ignored. The nexus between worker productivity and reward is long gone – compared to their counterparts in other industrialized nations, Americans work longer hours per day and more days per year than anyone. We’re a nation of workaholics, driven by need and the fear that we are falling behind. Our productivity rises year after year but our reward – our wages – remain the same or fall.
The American economy is ass-backwards, upside down, off kilter and out of whack. We need John L. Lewis and Cesar Chavez and A. Phillip Randolph. We need their spirit, their sense of moral outrage and their determination for justice, equity and dignity. We need to pay more than lip service to people who wake up every single day and go to jobs and put in an honest day’s work building, maintaining, restoring or repairing; we need to honor those who serve, teach, or care for others; we need to honor those who clean, scrub and polish; we need to resuscitate the tacit agreement between capital and labor, bosses and workers, that once rewarded hard and honest work, reliability and fidelity, with pay scales that are not insulting or disgraceful.
On this Labor Day I think of John Steinbeck and the Grapes of Wrath because it seems to me that it is those grapes we are destined to harvest unless we wake up and face our delusions. Steinbeck wrote, “The great owners…know the great fact: when property (or wealth or political power) accumulates in too few hands it is taken away.”
Names from the past roll across my mind like movie credits: Walter Reuther, George Meany, Joe Hill, John L. Lewis, Dolores Huerta, Cesar Chavez, Studs Terkel, A. Phillip Randolph -- people who dedicated their lives to improving the condition of workers, to building a strong middle class, and to insuring that labor was valued and had a place in the national conversation, a seat at the table.
Today the “Labor Movement” is like a terminal patient on life support. Union membership in the private sector is almost non-existent; meanwhile, as state and local governments continue to reel and stagger from the sluggish economy, union members in the public realm are forced to take pay cuts, furlough days, and watch as a backlash develops against pension plans that are always described in the media as “generous,” “lucrative,” or “Cadillac.”
Rough times for wage earners today, not much hope for improvement tomorrow. The mainstream media obsesses about stock prices and quarterly earnings forecasts, as if these are the only economic barometers that matter; CEO’s that boost earnings by dumping workers into the deep end of the pool of the unemployed are rewarded with bonuses.
There is a stark disconnect between the economy described by CNBC and the reality on the street that can no longer be glossed over or ignored. The nexus between worker productivity and reward is long gone – compared to their counterparts in other industrialized nations, Americans work longer hours per day and more days per year than anyone. We’re a nation of workaholics, driven by need and the fear that we are falling behind. Our productivity rises year after year but our reward – our wages – remain the same or fall.
The American economy is ass-backwards, upside down, off kilter and out of whack. We need John L. Lewis and Cesar Chavez and A. Phillip Randolph. We need their spirit, their sense of moral outrage and their determination for justice, equity and dignity. We need to pay more than lip service to people who wake up every single day and go to jobs and put in an honest day’s work building, maintaining, restoring or repairing; we need to honor those who serve, teach, or care for others; we need to honor those who clean, scrub and polish; we need to resuscitate the tacit agreement between capital and labor, bosses and workers, that once rewarded hard and honest work, reliability and fidelity, with pay scales that are not insulting or disgraceful.
On this Labor Day I think of John Steinbeck and the Grapes of Wrath because it seems to me that it is those grapes we are destined to harvest unless we wake up and face our delusions. Steinbeck wrote, “The great owners…know the great fact: when property (or wealth or political power) accumulates in too few hands it is taken away.”
Thursday, September 02, 2010
The Somber Smorgasbord
ABC News described Obama’s Iraq speech as “somber,” and that’s certainly a fitting tone for a Commander in Chief calling an end to combat operations after seven years and more than 4,000 American soldiers killed and thousands wounded.
But it was also a carefully crafted speech that offered a little something for everyone. For military folks there were the standard platitudes about bravery, sacrifice and honor; for those who see the Iraq invasion and occupation as a colossal blunder based on fabricated evidence and false justifications, the President made the nexus between the cost of the war and the dearth of domestic investment in jobs, infrastructure and education that has millions of Americans facing a uncertain future. For the hawks and imperialists Obama promised to destroy al Qaeda in Afghanistan and transform that ravaged land into a bulwark against the terrorists. For the benefit of Republicans, Obama even mentioned George W. Bush, the man who enthusiastically pushed the button that unleashed the horror of war on Iraq.
Call it a somber smorgasbord.
Missing from the speech was any mention of Abu Ghraib or the thousands of Iraqis who were killed during the shock and awe invasion and the long, bloody occupation. The New York Times reported that number as 100,000 dead – independent observers have pegged the number as high as 600,000. Americans should not forget the thousands of Iraqis displaced from their homes – either by the invasion or the sectarian strife that followed. I wonder if we have any idea of the number of Iraqis maimed, deformed or crippled as the result of our effort to free them from the tyranny of Saddam Hussein, find Weapons of Mass Destruction or give Iraq the gift of democracy.
Obama referred to the Iraqis as our “partners” and noted our common interests though he didn’t elaborate on what those interests might be. Obviously, the United States has an abiding interest in Iraq’s oil reserves, though American multinationals didn’t fare well in the oil contract sweepstakes. The United States would love for Iraq to check Iran’s power and influence in the region, but that’s unlikely to happen given that Iraq cannot even form a government six months after holding elections.
50,000 American troops and thousands of private contractors remain in Iraq, housed in gargantuan bases that resemble small American cities. If the tables were turned, the world upended, if Iraq had occupied America, how would Americans feel if the end of combat operations meant that 50,000 Iraqi soldiers would remain on our soil?
Truth is a casualty of war, and in the years ahead America’s imperial adventure in Iraq will be spun and revised and retold as a heroic, altruistic campaign, undertaken with pure motives and the noblest of intentions. This won’t be a difficult undertaking since many Americans already believe – despite a mountain of evidence to the contrary – that Iraq was responsible for the 9/11 attacks. Myth will become history and history will become truth. In a few short years it will be as if none of the horrible things ever happened, as if the Iraqi people greeted our soldiers with flowers and cheering, just as Donald Rumsfeld promised they would.
Victory was one thing Obama could not claim the other night because there was never anything to win by invading Iraq.
But it was also a carefully crafted speech that offered a little something for everyone. For military folks there were the standard platitudes about bravery, sacrifice and honor; for those who see the Iraq invasion and occupation as a colossal blunder based on fabricated evidence and false justifications, the President made the nexus between the cost of the war and the dearth of domestic investment in jobs, infrastructure and education that has millions of Americans facing a uncertain future. For the hawks and imperialists Obama promised to destroy al Qaeda in Afghanistan and transform that ravaged land into a bulwark against the terrorists. For the benefit of Republicans, Obama even mentioned George W. Bush, the man who enthusiastically pushed the button that unleashed the horror of war on Iraq.
Call it a somber smorgasbord.
Missing from the speech was any mention of Abu Ghraib or the thousands of Iraqis who were killed during the shock and awe invasion and the long, bloody occupation. The New York Times reported that number as 100,000 dead – independent observers have pegged the number as high as 600,000. Americans should not forget the thousands of Iraqis displaced from their homes – either by the invasion or the sectarian strife that followed. I wonder if we have any idea of the number of Iraqis maimed, deformed or crippled as the result of our effort to free them from the tyranny of Saddam Hussein, find Weapons of Mass Destruction or give Iraq the gift of democracy.
Obama referred to the Iraqis as our “partners” and noted our common interests though he didn’t elaborate on what those interests might be. Obviously, the United States has an abiding interest in Iraq’s oil reserves, though American multinationals didn’t fare well in the oil contract sweepstakes. The United States would love for Iraq to check Iran’s power and influence in the region, but that’s unlikely to happen given that Iraq cannot even form a government six months after holding elections.
50,000 American troops and thousands of private contractors remain in Iraq, housed in gargantuan bases that resemble small American cities. If the tables were turned, the world upended, if Iraq had occupied America, how would Americans feel if the end of combat operations meant that 50,000 Iraqi soldiers would remain on our soil?
Truth is a casualty of war, and in the years ahead America’s imperial adventure in Iraq will be spun and revised and retold as a heroic, altruistic campaign, undertaken with pure motives and the noblest of intentions. This won’t be a difficult undertaking since many Americans already believe – despite a mountain of evidence to the contrary – that Iraq was responsible for the 9/11 attacks. Myth will become history and history will become truth. In a few short years it will be as if none of the horrible things ever happened, as if the Iraqi people greeted our soldiers with flowers and cheering, just as Donald Rumsfeld promised they would.
Victory was one thing Obama could not claim the other night because there was never anything to win by invading Iraq.
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