More on Dogs: Navigating other dogs

Running into other dogs on a dog walk is a crap shoot. I am pretty unable to tell which dogs will cause my dogs to react, or which other dogs will react to mine, so I stay cautious, hold the leashes tight, and move or get ready to move off the path to the side. Many (?most) other people also do, which can create an “After you, Alphonse; no, after you, Gaston” situation, but we usually work it out. Some folks seem unaware (often related to looking at their phones and having earpieces in) and so I’m extra careful. And, while my dogs might react to small dogs and small dogs often precipitate the issue by barking a lot, I myself am more concerned about potential altercations with big dogs. There are a lot of both.

I try to anticipate what others are going to do, coming toward you or moving in the same direction. How soon, given their rate of speed, are they likely to catch up to you or you to them? Will they stop at a bottleneck, like, the entry to the park? It is not 100% but it helps. Groups of people, with lots of big dogs, are a particular problem, although I know their owners think their dogs are just peachy. One group has about 6 people and 6 dogs including a couple of (very well behaved) rottweilers and a curious off-leash small poodle. Nice folks but I try to keep my distance, and not run into them on a blind, narrow path (sometimes happens though).

Something I observed is that when the person/dog pair coming toward me steps off to the side before I do, but not very much to the side, just to the edge of the path, it seems to provoke my dogs; it happened twice yesterday, and almost a third time but with the same other dog (a lot of the trail is loops so can you pass people twice) but either they recognized it or it was more off the path. I wondered about this, and while I do not at all know I guess it is possible that they perceive a dog standing still right on the edge of the path as something like “lying in wait”. ?maybe? In any case, I have noticed that most of the time (nothing is always) moving past each other on opposite sides of the path, or maybe a little off it, is less likely to generate anxiety, barking, and lunging than one party standing still.

Timing and luck are a lot of it. This morning, we were walking down the street opposite the entrance to the park, and the dogs wanted to cross over. But, in addition to the truck coming down the street (it passed) there were two women approaching the entrance to the park, a total bottleneck, and moving remarkably slowly. And two people with two big dogs coming up from behind. I tried to time it to stay ahead of the latter and hope the former would move on into the park from the Z-shaped brick entrance. Nope. One of them hung out there. And coming out of the park was a woman I know, a terrific and wonderful person who has a big young dog that hasn’t completely mastered non-aggression. But she went out of her way to cross the street and go a bit down a side alley. And then inside was a man with a small dog that my dogs love to see because he spends time petting them. But now we contributed to the bottleneck! Not quite sure what purpose this entrance is supposed to serve…

Eventually, we got going into the park, and for the next 30 minutes only had a couple of widely separated interactions with other dogs and owners (including the ones staring at their phones with AirPods in who we had to negotiate around…)

Philosophizing and pontificating by authors in their novels gets more Intense when they get older and successful

It could be reasonably argued that the more power someone has, the less accountable they may be to others who would help direct their actions, and the more often they use it to serve themselves. This can be to enrich themselves, often unethically or illegally, or just to put forward their “wisdom”. It may be wiser than your wisdom, or not, or really dumb, but if they have the power then they can put it out there. 

You may think I am talking about the President of the United States, and from what I have written above I certainly could be. Especially the first part, corruptly enriching himself. He is, to use the technical term, a ganif (Yiddish, for thief; plural ganevim). Or I could be talking about the new (and this adjective should be understood in the context of me being an old person for who anything that has come about in at least the last 30 years is “new) profession of “on-line influencer”. These folks mostly do the second, proclaim their “wisdom”, at least insofar as what brands of crap (this is again a technical term, although English) you should buy. Or what you should believe, on health, on politics, on immigration, and especially on conspiracies. These folks generally get paid for making recommendations for products (“crap”) but it is not, strictly speaking, corrupt; they are being paid for work that they do that is advantageous to the company paying them, just like TV commercials. It may be corrupt if they are being paid surreptitiously, such as from a political foundation that wants to encourage their viewpoint.

Anyway, I am not really talking about either of these things, applicable as those thoughts may be. I am talking about an old (after all, I am old) genre, books. In my non-scientific observations, the authors of successful series of novels get to do things that their editors and publishers likely would not have allowed them to do (or at least with so much leeway) in their earlier books. I am specifically referring to “pontificating”, sharing the lead character’s (and presumably the author’s) worldview and philosophy and observations, at length, and usually with minimal or no real relationship to the plot of the book. This (again, in my observation, and I’ll stop writing IMO but you can assume it applies to this whole piece) kind of creeps in gradually, manifesting in small amounts in earlier books and, by the time the writer is old and really successful, tending to so dominate the book that the story (plot) seems almost incidental. That is, it increases from a few sentences here and there, to paragraphs, to pages, and so on.

There is nothing at all wrong with this; as is clear from this piece, we old people like to share what we think is our wisdom, or at least our observations and opinions. Certainly, famous and successful authors may have wise things to share, in articles and even in books. My issue is that when this occurs not in an ostensible treatise but a novel with a story, it can be at least distracting from the story, and is often so pervasive and extensive that I find myself giving up and going to another book. I feel it is a little sad to give up, but I only do it if the philosophizing/pontificating has been going on for a while and shows little sign of letting up and permitting the plot to take over; I try another book.

Most recently, this has occurred with two writers I have depended upon for intelligent entertainment, Walter Mosely and John Burdett. Both are close to my age; Mosely is 72 and Burdett 74. Mosley has several heroes, the most famous being Easy Rawlins, but the book I recently put down featured King Oliver (“Been wrong so long it feels like right”, 2025). Maybe I’ll try the latest 2025 Easy Rawlins book; maybe it is the character, Oliver, rather than Mosely, who is given to philosophy. But I doubt it.  Burdett’s books are (mostly) set in Bangkok, featuring Thai police detective Sonchai Jitpleecheep, and the one I have stopped reading in the middle is the most recent of those, “The Bangkok Asset”, 2015 (over 10 years old, but the latest in the series).

This is not a new phenomenon, as it has happened before with other authors, and I felt disappointed to let them go. Maybe the first books I stopped reading for this reason were the Dave Robichaux stories by James Lee Burke (89 years old). Also I found that re-reading the Travis McGee books by John MacDonald (died at 72 in 1986) was almost painful for the same reason. And even the many protagonists of British writer Dick Francis (d. 2010, 89) were not above extensive preaching. For me his opinions were even more objectionable, as they tended to be conservative and elitist, usually self-made successful men (always men) decrying those who were not as smart and hard-working as they, and the fact that society allowed them to nonetheless continue to live, if not thrive. I tend to like more criticism of those who do thrive, often handsomely, despite being neither particularly smart nor hard-working, but somewhere on the privileged-birth, corrupt-to-evil spectrum.

There are, of course, others who fall into this category  in this genre (in case anyone does not know, almost all crime/mystery/detective stories) and I am sure others. And there are many crime writers who do not have this particular characteristic. Agatha Christie (d 1976, 86) stories are often wordy and can be tedious, but not for this reason. The observations on the world of, say, Hercule Poirot, are terser.  Nero Wolfe, the detective written by Rex Stout (d 1975, 89) certainly has opinions and observations, including political views that I sometimes disagree with, but they are usually expressed in sentences, not pages. One example I like and often use is “This is a pleasant surprise, Archie. I would not have believed it. That of course is the advantage of being a pessimist; a pessimist gets nothing but pleasant surprises, an optimist nothing but unpleasant.” I am not always pessimistic, but more than some, and find comfort in this bon mot. Anyway, if not literally a mot it is two short sentences, not pages of worldview.

Indeed, Stout’s Wolfe books have another characteristic that I value in reading novels. Everything that happens on a page occurs after what happened on the previous page. Yes, they talk about past events, for example in reconstructing the evidence and describing the crime, but the live action is continuous, and there are not flashbacks or subplots to confuse simple minds like mine.

Obviously, some, many, people like subplots and flashbacks or even regularly alternating timelines. Even me, if it is well and not too confusingly done; one of my favorite novels (not a crime novel) is “Leonardo’s Bicycle” by Paco Ignacio Taibo II, which has about a half-dozen stories going on, but they alternate chapters and it is not incumbent upon one to understand each in order to follow the others. Also, of course, there are undoubtedly some who love the insertion of long philosophical text in the middle of their mystery stories, and think that this is one of the best things about MacDonald, or Burke, or Francis, or more recent Mosely and Burdett. After all, this piece is just my opinion.

And, while an old if not successful or celebrity author, it is my blog so I get to put it out there!

Rosa the Dog, and the Five levels of alertness

My dog Rosa is very alert and aware of what is going on in her environment. I assume that most of this is innate, genetic, a result of the DNA of whatever breeds she, of non-pure bloodlines (a good thing, to us) is comprised of. It also may be, in part, to her early life, spent on the streets of Willcox, AZ, where she was found with her puppies and brought to the Humane Society in Tucson, from which we adopted her several years ago. We walk at least once each day in the local park, which is a “natural resources park”, most of which is in its natural state, except for trails, and is popular with other dogs and their humans. Also has lots of wild fauna, including lizards, rabbits, birds (including lots of mourning doves and hawks, especially Cooper’s hawks) javelinas (collared peccaries) and the occasional bobcat. 

Rosa has roughly five levels of alertness (identified by me). Level 1 is the general awareness, turning her head, looking around for movement. It is her baseline, and I keep track of it to see if it moves to a higher level. The next, Level 2, means she spots something that holds her attention for at least a few seconds. It could be the movement of one of the ground animals (quail, lizard, squirrel, rabbit) that I often do not see, and quickly goes away. Level 3 means she spots something of significance, mainly a person or dog or more usually both together, that requires attention. I give it; sometimes we have to wait or move to avoid them, and sometimes it is an old friend with treats! Occasionally, her perception of the dog is that it is not benign. Although sometimes related to size and whether it is barking or pulling toward us, or whether the owner has decided that they do not need to obey the law and common sense and have a leash on their dog, I have yet to figure out the dog radar that lets them know that the potential threat level is up. We do avoid them as best as possible, and ask her to try to stand down. That is Level 4.

Level 5 is coyotes. That response is unmistakable; it is marked by sudden loud barking, hard pulling (which involves Rosa’s colleague, Molly) and significant strength to restrain them from (unwisely, usually) chasing after the coyotes. When she reaches Level 5, I know it right away and look for where the coyote is; often it has gone past us and is nonchalantly moving in whatever direction it was headed. Coyotes are not usually interested in approaching people or good-sized dogs (they might chase after and try to snap up a really little on if it is unguarded), although they too are much more vigilant and threatening if they have pups. The big problem for me is keeping the dogs under control. Once in a while I actually spot a coyote before they do, and can try to lead them away, but it is hard to be more on top of this than Rosa is.

Her alertness and reactions are different from Molly’s. They are similar to some other dogs we have had, though even more vigilant. She is a wonderful dog, but walking her in this environment requires awareness and attention.

 

Dogs, smells, alerts, coyotes...A walk in the park!

Dogs, like people, have distinct personalities. Of course, they are dogs, and thus have similarities and differences from people. They perceive things differently than we do, with smell being their dominant sense, while for most people it is sight, We verify things we hear, or smell, or touch, by looking at them; for dogs, they verify by smelling. The extent and complexity of their olfactory apparatus is impressive, and one of the things that I learned more about from

“Being a Dog: Following the Dog Into a World of Smell” (Simon and Schuster) by dog cognition researcher Alexandra Horowitz. One result of their focus on smell is that they tend to be focused downward, at the ground, following smells. In his book “Thunder Dog” (Thomas Nelson), Michael Hingson tells the amazing story of how he, a blind man, and his guide dog Roselle escaped from the 78^th floor of the World Trade Center on 9/11/2001. It is quite a story, but mixed into the main narrative is a lot of information on being blind – and what blind people can, in fact, do and accomplish – and guide dogs. One thing that stayed with me is how the dogs have to be trained to look upward and be aware on what is going on above their heads to avoid running their partners into objects that they themselves could easily go under. This is something I deal with every day walking my dogs in the park. They’re good dogs but not guide dogs, and as they occupy much of the path we are on, I have to be careful that I myself am not walking into a tree branch that is of no concern to them!

My current two dogs are also different in many ways; Molly pees and poops immediately and anywhere (sidewalk, middle of an intersection), while Rosa needs to go quite a long way from home and prefers to poop off the path, hidden, preferably on top of sticks, rocks, or even cactus that make it more difficult for me to pick up. Both stop and smell, but Rosa more often and for longer; Molly is more likely to stop, stock-still (“statue”) when she wants to make a point about the direction in which she wishes to go (or not go), and her smelling is largely directed by what might be there to eat (“edible” is not really the issue; this can include sticks and rocks!) Rosa also needs to be in the lead, and so after she stops to sniff moves up quickly to the front on the other side of Molly from me, and her leash can get caught behind Molly, causing her to instinctively stop and sit!

Rosa is also very alert to what is going on in the environment. Probably this is mostly also instinctive; both of the dogs were adopted at several years old and are not “pure-bred” whatevers, so I can’t look up if it is typical of her breed. She was also found wandering the streets of small-town Willcox with her puppies, so maybe the need to be aware was reinforced by her early life. Anyway, she is constantly looking around. She has several levels of alertness, which I note to decide if I need to take any action. The lowest level is “General alert”, looking and sniffing around to see if there might be anything to be concerned about. If a head turn only lasts a few seconds, I don’t need to pay attention. Then comes “Something alert”, where the head turn might last a bit longer, but does not show real concern. This most often means that a bird or ground squirrel or rabbit or lizard is moving nearby. Higher yet is “People/dog alert” when nearby, or approaching is a person, dog, or both (the latter being very common). This is something I do have to pay attention to, as it may require us to change our direction or step off to the side. Part of this can have to do with dog size; Molly and Rosa are good-sized, if not really large, and I am more concerned for their safety with dogs off-leash, especially large dogs. But yapping and aggressive little dogs can set my dogs off and mean I have to hold them back. One thing I know is I am pretty unreliable when it comes to predicting how my dogs and others will react to each other; it is a complex formula that is opaque to me (and probably has a lot to do with smell). I do know that other dog owners do not always have a great sense of how their dogs will react, sometimes conflating how they are with their own families with how they might react to others.

The highest level of alert is “Coyote alert”. While for me seeing a coyote or coyotes in the distance it is sometimes hard to tell them from dogs (often my first clue is “no person”), Molly and Rosa seem to have no difficulty, and react accordingly. Coyotes tend to avoid people, and while they have been known to pick off small dogs who were not being carefully watched (or held), they do not come after a person and two dogs the size of mine (although when there are pups, there can be a bunch of them, and the parent will often stand vigilant until all pass and can be intimidating). The issue is that Rosa and Molly want – very much – to chase them, and it takes a lot of strength to hold them back. If either dog were off-leash and ran after them, coyotes have their own tricks to lure them into traps where they will be outnumbered.

Overall, it is fun and interesting to walk with them, despite the occasional alarm. The desert is lovely, and in this season it is actually cold (not arctic or northern cold, but in the 30s) in the early morning when we do our first walk. I have had these dogs for several years, but learn more about them every day!

The Klan Rags: A true story of a fight against bigotry and for freedom

 

The Klan Rags: A true story of a fight against bigotry and for freedom

This is a true story about my great-uncle, Louis Miller, my grandfather's younger brother. I put it out now because we need to remember that people fought to preserve freedom and against hatred, bigotry and racism. Published many years ago in a Huntsville, AL paper.

The Klan Rags

The Ku Klux Klan was all-powerful in Huntsville. It controlled the politicians, made its own laws and had its own judges and juries.
No one dared oppose them except for one young Jewish emigrant who worked as a rag dealer.
He had traveled thousands of miles to come to the land of the free and no one was going to take his dream away from him.
If Louis Miller had to fight for the right to call Huntsville his home he was ready.
By Larry Weiss
When Louis Miller, owner of the Tennessee Poultry and Hide Company, arrived at work one morning sometime in the 1920s his attention was riveted by a crude handwritten notice nailed to the front door. "GET OUT OF TOWN. [Signed] KU KLUX KLAN."
Feelings of shock, anger and disappointment clouded his mind as he read and then reread the scrap of paper.
He had thought America was going to be different.
Many years later Miller told his son Buddy, how he felt after he read the notice: "I was mad as hell. I had traveled half way around the world to find a place where I could live in freedom, and I'll be damned if I was going to let those sons of b..... s run me out of Huntsville!"
Miller had immigrated to the United States in 1913. "Ever since I could remember, I wanted to leave Russia and come to America," he would tell his children in later years. In the Czar's Russia, Jews were periodically attacked by anti-Semitic thugs who stole property, burned homes and businesses, and vented their hate by murdering Jews. Louis only had a seventh grade education by the time he arrived in New York because anti-Jewish quotas in Minsk schools prevented him during some years from attending class.
Miller later said that the most beautiful sight he had ever seen was the Statue of Liberty as the ship which brought him to the United States pulled into the harbor of New York. The statue represented a dream that he had ever since he was "old enough to think." He wanted to come to this country, and now he was here. Freedom from quotas and murdering gangs. Here he was in America!
His father had been a Melamed in Minsk, Russia - a teacher who taught young boys Hebrew. It was an honorable profession, but very poorly paid. Just before Louis left Minsk to come to America, his father said to him, 'We have a lot of famous Rabbis and people well known in our family. If you change your name as most people do when they go to America, nobody will know who you are."
Label Mishkind - Louis Miller's name at birth - promised his dad that he wouldn’t change his name in America. It turned out, though, that Label couldn't keep his promise. He stayed with his older brother in Brooklyn who had already Americanized his own name to "Miller" when he first came to this country. Before Label could speak English people had already started calling him "Louis Miller" because of his brother. After some time, Label Mishkind legally changed his name to Louis Miller because everybody called him that anyway.
Miller thrived in the freedom of the new land. By day he worked for his brother who owned a small candy store, and by night he went to school to learn English and take citizenship classes. Patiently, he studied, worked, and saved his money, determined to become an American citizen. He had already fulfilled the dream for which generations of his family had prayed - he was in a country where a person was judged by his own merit and free to practice his own religious beliefs.
After a few years in New York, Louis ventured out to Paris, Tennessee, to visit a sister who lived there. His first exposure to Southern culture came as somewhat of a shock. He later laughed as he told the story
of how people he passed in the railroad station would smile and say, "Good morning, how are you." As he walked down the street complete strangers greeted him in a friendly manner. This was quite unusual, but certainly pleasant for the young emigrant. Miller chuckled in later years as he remembered his feelings, "I thought I must have looked like somebody they know, otherwise they wouldn't be speaking to me. In New York people who lived next door to each another rarely spoke to one another, much less complete strangers."
After Miller realized it had not been a case of mistaken identity, but rather that the South was simply a friendlier place than New York, he decided to settle here. Traveling down to Decatur, Alabama, he quickly found a job, and sent his brother a telegram asking him to pack up his stuff and send it south.
Hard work and attention to details soon made Miller a prized employee, and when his boss purchased another company in Huntsville in 1918, he asked Miller to manage it for him. The company, named the Tennessee Poultry and Hide Company, dealt in items such as poultry, hides, eggs, furs, wild roots, scrap iron, and wiping rags. The store quickly became a boon to the community and began to prosper. For many of the rural farmers it proved to be a blessing in the off-season when they were unable to farm. Whole families would gather ginseng and run trap lines for furs which Miller bought, often providing the only income they had during the winter months.
The community soon learned that Miller was a fair man, paying fair prices and keeping his word.
In time, his reputation literally became the business, a fact that his employer probably realized when he agreed to sell the company to Miller.
Louis Miller was an asset to his adopted hometown. He joined the local Temple, became active in community affairs and was an outspoken advocate of the individual right to freedom. Unfortunately he was so outspoken he soon came to the attention of the local Ku Klux Klan.
Huntsville's original Klan had been founded in 1867 as a means to combat the consequences of Reconstruction. In 1872, after a Congressional hearing held in Huntsville exposed many of its brutalities, the Klan disbanded only to rear its ugly head again in the early 1900s in response to the release of the film, "Birth of a Nation."
By 1920 the Klan had become a powerful organization in Huntsville. They had their own laws and government and even conducted their own trials. They had become, as one historian put it so aptly, "the invisible government."
Businessmen felt they had to belong in order to do business, and politicians felt, they had to belong in order to do politics. Even if you did not agree with them, the local wisdom was that it was better to keep your mouth shut. In a perverse fairness it must be stated that the local Klan did not discriminate. They hated everyone equally --Blacks, Jews, foreigners, and Northerners.
Miller fitted most of the above criteria, a fact that the Klan quickly realized.
Louis Miller hated the Klan, and he publicly took issue with them. He simply could not understand how, in a land of the free, a group of bigoted nightriders could intimidate a whole community. In his anger at the Klan, he said in public more than a few times that one day, he was going to buy those Klan robes and tear them up into wiping rags.
He had no idea at the time of how prophetic his words would prove. Miller’s threats infuriated the Klan who soon put out word that he was a marked man.
After finding the Klan eviction notice on his door, Miller sent word to the Klan leaders that if they came after him, he would be ready for them. At five-foot-four he was not physically a very imposing man, and
he wasn't really a very good shot, either. However, at that time there was a shooting gallery next door to the Tennessee Poultry and Hide Company. Every day Louis visited the gallery, plunked down his money, and practiced shooting with rifles and pistols. After a while he became a superb marksman, a fact he made sure that everyone knew. He also made sure that the Klan realized that if they came after him, they might get him, but they were likely to lose some of their own in the process.
Still, despite his bravado, he realized the danger. He constantly kept a gun close by, at work and at home. His orders to his wife were: "If anybody knocks at night when I am not at home, don't open the door." Not knowing when the men might come after him, Miller would answer the door with a rifle or pistol in hand.
The citizens of Huntsville probably expected a bloody confrontation, most likely ending with someone lying dead in the streets, but suddenly, for no apparent reason, the Klan stopped its harassment of Miller. It would be years before he ever knew the reason why.
Miller had a few friends and business acquaintances who were also members of the Klan, and it was one of them who eventually told him the whole story.
The Huntsville Klan had put Louis Miller on trial in absentia at a special Klan meeting called for that purpose. Louis was charged with speaking in public against the Klan. Among other specific examples, he was charged with insulting the Man by threatening repeatedly in public to tear its robes into wiping rags.
The trial was a major event in the local Klan community. Both a prosecuting attorney and a defense attorney were designated. The man who eventually told Louis the story offered to serve as defense attorney. Klan members in the hall were the jury. When it came time during the trial for the defense attorney to say his piece, he argued, "I've known Louis Miller for a number of years. In fact I've known him ever since he came to Huntsville. He left Russia to find a place of freedom - I know that because he told me. Yes, he is in disagreement with the Klan. Louis Miller has a right to speak against us just as any other American does. He even has the right to speak against his government, but he is speaking against the Klan. I don't find that to be anything he should be put on trial for. I don't think it is wrong."
During his summation the defense attorney made his point as strongly as he could: "I joined the Klan because I thought it was a worthwhile organization but, I'm submitting my resignation from the Klan tonight, because I don't feel like it is the kind of organization I need to belong to."
He did resign, and eventually he told Louis about the trial. In part because one solitary person had dared to oppose the Klan, it quickly began losing public support. Members drifted away and in a few years the Huntsville Klan had almost disappeared.
The story might have ended there if it had not been for a phone call Miller received in the early 1930s.
"Louie, are you still dealing in wiping rags?"
Miller, thinking it was just another business call in an already hectic day replied, "Yes, if the price is right."
The caller went on to explain the purpose of his call. "I've been renting a meeting hall to the Ku Klux Klan, but they haven't been active for a couple of years and they haven't been paying any rent. I'm going to have to rent it to somebody else, but I got a bunch of their old robes on the floor in a pile in the meeting hall, and I was just wondering if you would be interested in buying them."
Remembering his threats years earlier to sell the Klan's robes as wiping rags, he tried to control his excitement. 'Where are you now?" asked Miller.
The caller replied, "I'm at the meeting hall," and gave Louis the address. The rag buyer was already grabbing for his hat and coat as he yelled into the phone, "Don't you leave! I'll be there in ten minutes. I'll buy them from you. I'll buy them all from you!"
On the short trip to the now defunct meeting hall he began having second thoughts about the price, "I want to buy them, but there's only so much I can pay for them to make them into wiping rags." But then he thought about what was really important to him. "It doesn't make any difference," he thought to himself, "no matter what he wants for them, I'm going to pay that. I'm going to get them. I'm going to do what I said I was going to do."
So Louis Miller, Jewish dealer in wiping rags, soon showed up at the former Klan meeting hall to buy a pile of Klan robes. With little dickering, the deal was struck. They shook hands with Louis telling the seller, "I'll send two or three men to the hall in about an hour to pick up the robes and I'll send you a check today."
Actually, if it had not been for the hate the robes represented they would have been quite attractive. Made out of white linen, the robes were decorated with large colorful embroidered dragons and Celtic crosses.
If people were wondering what a Jewish dealer wanted with Klan robes they soon found the answer. Every morning Miller would have an employee push a pallet loaded with Klan robes out to the space between the sidewalk and the street. They would remain there all day, every day as a reminder to people of what the robes really were--simply a pile of discarded rags.
Miller often sat in his office watching the reactions of people as they walked by. The robes were in a pile, but you could tell what they were because all of the embroidered Klan emblems. Some people would stare. Some would do a double-take. Some people simply hung their heads and pretended not to see the pile.
After a couple of months of displaying the robes, a friend of Miller's called. "Louie," the friend said, "I know that you said you were going to buy these robes and make them into wiping rags, and I know you've had a lot of fun displaying them. But you know, I was a member of the Klan. Don't you think you've had enough fun with those robes now?"
Miller responded to his friend's question with a question of his own: “Let me ask you this; are you asking me, or are you telling me?” His friend gently, and probably sheepishly, replied, "I'm asking you."
Louis said, "Well, OK, but if you were "telling" me, those damn things would stay on display for years! But we'll take them in and I'll do what I said I'd do with them."
One day, shortly after he agreed to stop displaying the robes, Louis received a call from a widow woman who was a friend of his and who had heard about the robes.
"Louie," she asked, "what are you going to do with the embroidered emblems?"
"Well, I guess I'll have to take those off before we make them into wiping rags." The robes were made out of first class white cotton, and they would make a premium grade of wiping rag.
The widow woman then explained her proposition. "If you send those uniforms out to my house, I'll take the emblems off them, and all you have to do is wash them and tear them up into wiping rags. I won't charge you anything, but I want the emblems."
Miller quickly agreed to the deal and had an employee take the robes out to her house.
One day, long after Louis got the robes back without the emblems, and long after all the Klan robes had been torn into wiping rags, Louis got a call from his friend, the widow woman. "Come by the house sometime and I'll show you what I did with the emblems."
A few hours later Miller was standing in the lady's house, in awe of her creation. Transforming the symbols of hate into a thing of beauty, she had sewn a gorgeous patchwork quilt out of the emblems. The biggest emblem was in the middle, surrounded by the next biggest emblems, and those surrounded by the next biggest in swirling, colorful profusion to the very edges of the quilt. As he stared at the woman's extraordinary creation he said, half to himself, "You know, I would have never thought that something so bad could be turned into something so beautiful."
The daughter of the woman who made the quilt now has it, and she still lives in Huntsville. Louis Miller, the young man who emigrated from Russia in search of freedom, died in 1966. The Tennessee Poultry and Hide Company is now known as L. Miller & Son, Inc., and is operated by Louis' son, Buddy, and Buddy's son, Sol.

Bad people doing bad things? Good people doing good things? What do we need?

To say that there is a lot of disagreement in the world today, including in the US, is an understatement. We also hear folks, sometimes including me, saying that those who say (and, especially, do) reprehensible things are bad people. But many religions, and indeed most folks who are thoughtful, would note that there is a distinction between what people say or even do and who they are. One formulation is “hate the sin, love the sinner”. Certainly, the Jesus Christ of the New Testament is a prime example of that approach, loving and caring for thieves, prostitutes, and other people who did “bad” things. It is disappointing, to say the least, that a very high proportion of those who claim to follow his teachings cannot even follow his example in supporting and caring for those who are victimized: the poor, the sick, the migrant.

But I still think that there is a point where doing bad things makes one a bad person. If you do enough bad things, and they are bad enough, and you consistently keep doing them despite knowing that they are bad, I think you are a bad person. Redeemable, perhaps. But bad. On the other hand, what about people who do good things? Does that make them good people? Do they have to do some minimum number of good things, that are good enough, with enough consistency? Some folks – most folks – do both good things and bad things. If you believe in a religion in which there is a final reckoning, they will be judged. If, like me, you don’t, you can do your own judging. Except mostly it’s beside the point, since there is little we can do to change others. I can laud the good things that people do and condemn the bad. I can be happy that we live in a world where so many people do good things, and sad that we live in a world where so many do bad ones. One theory of child rearing is to praise good behavior and ignore bad, hoping that will extinguish as a result. It is a nice theory, one that can translate to both adults and dogs, but it may not always work. And sometimes the bad behavior of children can be so dangerous, to themselves or others, that it is very difficult (and probably wrong) to just ignore it; it needs to be corrected. Adults, of course, should know better than to stick a fork in an electric outlet, but don’t seem to always be able to not drive crazily or drunk, or wave a loaded weapon around people, or abuse family and friends physically, sexually, or mentally.

Or even to not actively work to oppose those who are doing good. Some of the best things that people do (which might contribute to making them the best people) are to go out of their way to work to help those who are the most disadvantaged. An example, in my community of Tucson, are those who go out into the hot (or at night, especially in winter, cold) and arid deserts, leaving water for migrants who are wandering in remote areas with no water, and are in danger of dying. Two groups in particular do such good work that they need to be named: No More Deaths/No Mas Muertes and Samaritans, and there are others. But there are people who do not think this is good work. They blame migrants for a variety of things, and don’t want them to come into the US. They want the government to stop them. They want to stop them themselves. They want to stop the people who help them by providing water in the desert. Some of them are now out roaming the desert with weapons, looking not only for migrants but for those who try to keep them from dying. One member of Samaritans talked about the fear: “They carry guns. We carry water.”

I can’t know what motivates someone to not only think that it is a mistake to bring water to the desert, where desperate people who cannot pass at legal checkpoints are brought and abandoned by human coyotes to survive or not, but to also wish to stop – even at gunpoint – those others who are trying to help. The names of those helping groups are meaningful; No More Deaths is explicit. Samaritans refers to the parable in the book of Luke where a man beaten and left by robbers in the road is quickly passed by the “responsible people” of the community (a priest and a Levite), but helped when a Samaritan, a people generally disliked by the Hebrews, stops for him. The folks currently using that name try to emulate this. I am not sure who those who oppose and threaten them are trying to emulate. A recent article discussed how some Republican legislators, not just in Arizona but across the US, are attacking agencies like Casa Alitas, a project of Catholic Charities in Tucson, which has for many years provided a very temporary landing place for migrants legally dropped off by the CBP (Border Patrol); a bed and food and clothes and perhaps a ride to the airport or bus terminal to get to their ultimate destination. One politician from another state talked about the “secret” locations where these people are served. They are not secret, but they now need more security to protect not only migrants but volunteers. Of course, they are usually in poor and remote sections of town, but if the politician in question would like to offer up a facility near his home, I’m sure that there are organizations that would be grateful. 

I am reading a book called “Cooked” by Carol Karels, who started first as a nursing student and then as a nurse at Cook County Hospital in Chicago in 1971. I also worked there, in the late ‘70s as resident, and then in the ‘80s and ‘90s, so it is of personal interest to me. One theme is the contrasting descriptions of it – huge, poor, under-resourced, decrepit, a “terrible place” according to a LOOK magazine article she quotes. It is also, however, a place where Chicago’s many poor and uninsured could – and can – go for care. The waits were long, the resources limited, but people in need were not turned away, and got the best care those who worked there could provide. Karels’ mother was a volunteer who collected donated clothing and other goods and spoke of the nurses and doctors who worked in the hospital as “saints”. I wouldn’t say that, especially having been one – although there were some who really probably were – but they, we, were committed to the idea that everyone deserved the best care we could provide. And it often became political; the year before I started the interns and residents went on strike. Not for more money (which the County government would have understood!) but for things like EKG machines – and grounded electric outlets that could take their plugs – and resuscitation equipment, and people to draw blood for lab tests. The residents called these working conditions, which of course they were. And 12 residents went to jail when the County told them to go back to work. But I digress. A little.

I tried to do work that was good, and that helped people. I didn’t want to be or expect to be a saint, whatever that is, but I also didn’t want to be someone whose marginal benefit to society was minimal. So maybe the work that other doctors and me, and Carol Karels and other nurses, and her mother and other volunteers, made a difference in the lives of people. And maybe, if we hadn’t been doing it, others would have. Or maybe not. It is usually easy to find someone to do better-paid, better-perked, better status work.  

Anyway, I leave it to you to decide what is good and what is bad and doing how much of either makes the person doing it good or bad. But I know one thing: We need a lot more people doing a lot more good.

Should progressives vote? Of course!

In the 2022 election, the Arizona legislature continued to have the narrowest of Republican margins, 16-14 in the Senate and 31-29 in the House. As in the previous legislative session, where they had the same margin, it has not (and did not) keep them from passing the most viciously reactionary anti-person bills that they could. But there was a big difference. Arizona elected a Democratic Governor, who set a record vetoing many of these bills, including those almost banning abortion, forbidding treatment for trans children, decreasing funding for public schools while increasing private school vouchers, destroying the environment, etc.

It makes a big difference. And it demonstrates that voting IS important. I know a lot of people who say it doesn’t change the basic system, and it doesn’t, but it can make a real difference in preserving the non-fascist parts of that system, and importantly, in the lives of many Americans. A lot of the folks urging non-voting live in states that will go Democratic even if they, and their friends don’t vote, such as California, New York, Massachusetts, Maryland, Oregon, etc. And while few of them live in very “red” states, it may not matter there – they’ll go Republican anyway. But in “swing” states like Arizona it makes a big difference. While the GOP held their narrow margin in the legislature and even flipped two congressional seats (going from 5-4 Democratic in 2020 to 6-3 GOP in 2022) through gerrymandering, they cannot gerrymander the statewide vote; thus our Democratic governor – and Secretary of State and Attorney General and all statewide offices.

Of course, the Republicans can try to manipulate the vote, who is eligible to vote, and how the votes are counted (see “Kari  Lake”), disenfranchising many, and that is another big reason to turn out to vote and turn them out! It is bad enough that we have an undemocratic Electoral College resulting largely from an undemocratic allocation of Senate seats (Wyoming, population 585,000, has 2; California, population 39 million, has 2. And each of the 52 Congressional districts in California has more people than the whole state of Wyoming!) At this point we are still able to have non-gerrymandered statewide votes that elect better state officials and control the state electoral vote.

There are more states where this can make a difference than the “usual suspect” swing states of Arizona, North Carolina, Wisconsin, Michigan, Pennsylvania and maybe a couple of others. I used to live in deep “red” Kansas, where the legislature is overwhelmingly Republican, but the voters elected a Democratic governor, which they do sometimes to limit legislative excesses – because the governor is elected statewide and not subject to the gerrymandering of legislative districts.  And in 2022, 60% of votes in a statewide referendum rejected an anti-abortion amendment to the state constitution. In nearby Missouri, a former swing state, the GOP controls the legislature, governorship, and statewide offices, and has used their power to gerrymander and further limit the influence of urban centers like Kansas City and St. Louis. Other states, including Ohio, can be in the same situation. Referendums have had significant clout in many states like Arizona, which is, of course, why the legislature continues to try to overturn them, to make them harder to pass, and has even tried to outlaw them. Their approach is “if democracy doesn’t go your way, limit it”. And stack the courts. Twice in this 21^st century, 2000 and 2016, presidents have been elected with a minority of the popular vote, and at least in 2000, the election was essentially decided by the Supreme Court. For the first 20 years of this century, only once did a Republican win the popular vote (George Bush in 2004) but they have held the presidency for 12 of those years.

We need to continue the struggle for human rights, against climate change, against destruction of the environment, and for the rights of workers, drastically limiting the amount of control that corporations and billionaires have, and the wealth that they have that leads to that control. Voting for Democrats is not enough to make it happen. But it is the most likely method we have of maintaining a system that permits the organizing and other work to make progress, rather than criminalizing it.