The stress of race relations has been a factor throughout my life. I come from a family of mixed marriages and so have spent much of my life in that land between races. I could claim to be color blind but I can’t as that would deny the history, culture, heritage and genealogy of those I love. I loved Margaret, the colored lady who worked with my mother on the household chores. Colored was the term of the day before African-American was put into use.

One day Margaret and I went into town on some long forgotten errand. I was small enough that I had to reach up to hold her finger. Full of excitement I held onto her as we stepped up to board the bus. I first detected a harsh tone when the bus driver asked, “Lady what are you doing with that boy? You go sit in the back and have him sit up here with me.” Margaret was stunned as she wondered what to do. Meanwhile, I held onto her with all of the strength I had. Shortly a “white” lady moved over in her seat and said with a loud and clear voice that we would sit with her, right up in the front of the bus. I knew the bus driver’s anger was directed at Margaret. I didn’t know why but I didn’t like it. I didn’t know what to do but thank God for that kind and strong woman who spoke out against bigotry and racism that day. Margaret was a kind and loving lady whom I loved and I feel that she loved me as well. At least that is what she told me. Still, we never went to town again.

So I, like millions of others, was exposed to the strife between the races at an early age. Since that time there have been interracial marriages within my family and I’m a stronger and maybe better man for it. If nothing else, I’ve had to enlarge my view of the world and it has served me well.

I’ll state the obvious and say that many aspects of race relationships have improved. Unfortunately so much of that had to be done by law rather than by an embracing of all humankind. Still it gets confusing, in particular with the terms used today. I was sitting with my brother-in-law, Joe, one day when the term Afro-American came up. His immediate and firm response was, “I ain’t no Afro-American. I fought in the War as an American and that’s what I am. I maybe colored but I’m no different from anyone else. I’m an American.” Now Joe can speak with authority on subjects such as this and not just from the perspective of a person of color. Not only did Joe serve in World War II and survive he also is an early member of the NFL Hall of Fame. He met an incredible variety of people on his journey and, as he says, his life would have been limited if he only saw himself in terms of race. On the other hand, Joe will never deny who he is. He marched in the Civil Right’s movement and I have often seen speak out against racial intolerance and bigotry no matter what side of the racial equation it flowed from.

Today the racist term is often used as a red herring, hiding underlying motives. It gets thrown around on every other news headline that screams at us. Accusations of racism and reverse racism are heard from the political arena. It’s more of the hard and dirty politics that we’re subjected to today.
But what is more telling to me is that almost all of the conversation centers on the “Black/White” race issue. It goes much deeper than that. The history of race in California during the Gold Rush days and the building of the railroads is laden with racist treatment of the Chinese. And then we can look at the seizing of the land and jobs of the Mexican Americans who lived in California prior to the discovery of gold and the Western rush from the East. Let’s not forget the Native American population either or the Japanese Americans in World War II. So the story is everywhere and the focus often shifts with those out of the range of the political dialogue left behind or forgotten. To me the real common thread is bigotry. Bigotry in any form kills the soul of a society and its insidious tentacles spread everywhere.

It’s the absence of such bigotry that makes places like the Rush Rush so special to me. Watching Do Right, Brittany, Daddy Boos, Subi and the rest of the staff treat all who come here no matter what their background with human dignity which exceeds the surface and taught politeness of the corporate chains is like sitting next to a beacon of light shining from the Statue of Liberty.

So I suggest that in order to start the dialogue that the President is calling for we all should go find a gathering spot like the Rush Rush and talk to a person who in appearance is 180 degrees from us and let the dialogue begin.

Until next time,

Gump’s Brother

There are never enough I Love You’s.

Lenny Bruce

Recently my days have been a delight as well. A bright and, I have to say; very insightful young friend has asked me to give thought to the topic of the arrogance of youth and to write something about it. Isn’t that great, that someone actually wants me to think about something and then share my thoughts. Pulling myself down from the clouds I set out to organize my thoughts. First I decided that I needed the definition of arrogance. Here is what I got off the Web.

Arrogance

-Noun-

offensive display of superiority or self-importance; overbearing pride.

I can understand that and I’m sure I’ve witnessed it once or twice in my life. It isn’t a trait that is reserved just for the youth though. It’s a trait that crosses the generations. It’s an equal opportunity trait you could say. So what about youthful; what is its definition I wondered. And so it was back to the Net.

Youthful

–adjective

1. characterized by youth; young.

2. of, pertaining to, or befitting youth: youthful enthusiasm.

3. having the appearance, freshness, vigor, etc., of youth: She is 60 but her optimism has kept her youthful.

4. in an early period of existence; early in time.

I like combining the arrogance definition with the fourth definition of youthful. The way I read it the meaning would be that the subject’s arrogance was just starting. And if you attribute it to a young person just starting out with their arrogance a certain charm might be found but I don’t think that is what is usually meant with the term youthful arrogance.

Now my favorite discovery is the following quote. “Nobody can be so amusingly arrogant as a young man who has just discovered an old idea and thinks it is his own.”- Sydney J. Harris. Now, there is something I can relate to. Still this arrogance thing is a bit perplexing for me since I was a member of the 60′s generation. For those of you who either weren’t there or don’t remember, our youthful arrogance was harder to spot. Those days were filled with moral arrogance rather than youthful arrogance. Everybody was right and all were quick to tell you so. So the arrogance of our youth was overlooked by other issues and we didn’t get a chance to see it grow from youthful to full blown arrogance. But it did. However, that is a whole other story.

The bloom of youth hides many things. The crossroads of life have been few and the traits are still in bud not yet formed. The glow of youth can obscure many traits that may be the start of something less than pleasing or it can be the bud of a wonderful personality that is hidden. And so I think it is with the arrogance of youth. Is it the generational arrogance or is it individual arrogance? Each generation arrives on the scene certain that they have a better answer than preceding generations. I find delight when one of the Bipsy Twins dismisses my texting skills. Little do they realize that I have been working with computers from the days before their arrival into this party called life. Each generation has to do this youthful arrogance thing or why else would they want to make changes or even to try? It’s all part of the joie de vivre when you are young. Hopefully it will last a lifetime for the fortunate ones. But when one such as Young Tank decides that I have offended him or someone and he decides to no longer return a greeting and pointedly ignores my presence the arena of youthful arrogance has been left for simple arrogance. The years have taught me that such things are of little or no importance and that simple courtesies yield much better results. But that comes mainly with age. The dismissal of my texting skills can be attributed to the arrogance of youth while the personal dismissal of one whom you know for unknown reasons is much more of the individual. Such an attitude doesn’t bode well for future growth of such a self important and closed individual.

Perched here at the Rush Rush on any given day or evening the study of generations and individuals can consume an entire sitting. A counterpoint to the arrogance of youth is the reverse generational dismissal and it is worth consideration, as well. The old attitude of what do they know they’re just kids can even be more damning.

I like to remember what Louie Armstrong sang:

“I hear babies cryin’…. I watch them grow
They’ll learn much more than I’ll ever know

As I’ve said the arrogance of youth is unavoidable and is probably necessary. On the other hand personal arrogance is so very wrong and personally limiting. I’m of the school that arrogant people have a narcissistic personality disorder or are insecure somewhere down in their soul. Knowing this doesn’t make them any easier to deal with, though. It’s best to just move away and go on with a good life.

As to the arrogance of my youth, Bob Dylan said it best with, “Ah but I was so much older then…I’m younger than that now.” To my young friend I say thank you for asking for my thoughts and to go forth, stay curious and enjoy the show.

Until next time,

Gump’s Brother

There are never enough I Love You’s.

Lenny Bruce

After listening to the mornings blather on the tube it’s great to have this change of life. We seem to be entering on a new phase of McCarthyism. Sound bites, video editing, the dark side of social media and political posturing have all led to a rush to judgment in the case of Ms Shirley Sherrod. Ms. Sherrod made the modern mistake of being too long winded. Apparently she was telling a whole story that got edited, abbreviated and You Tubed into a different sort of tale. Sound bites and sloganeering are the rule of the day and Ms. Sherrod fell victim to them. Instead of relating a story of her life, she should have sent a text message to the AudioVisual system and just stood there looking charming while the audience read it. With a little cosmetic surgery and enhancements I could see her posing like a Playboy pinup. If she did it right she could have ended up with a job as an anchor with on one of the n 24/7 news shows.

Humor aside, this is serious business. This constant rush to judgment that we are being swept up in is scary. Left, Right and all in between should stop and take a breath. There is a constant stream of damnation as we seek out the next wrong person. The slandering of the McCarthy days is back and back with a vengeance. Is it possible today for news to be reported without someone being portrayed as a fallen character? We have 24/7 news where ratings rule with their “Breaking News.” Add to this mix the free form nature of the Internet and the world of bloggers and the loudest seems to win. Forget objective views and solid information gathering that just takes too much times and doesn’t get the Internet hits or ratings that are the ultimate goal.

Fortunately in the present case of Ms. Sherrod the full story has come out and amends seem to be part of this next process, which I’m certain, will carry a fare amount of blame and name calling. But who’s next? This thirst for the damnation of our next victim is insatiable. A different source of nourishment and enrichment is overdue. The problem with this moral posturing and elevation is that we are all human and thus prone to mistakes. This is a fact that can’t be denied and thus we shouldn’t be so intent on finding the moral high ground. And in particular this shouldn’t be done based on partial information. But this McCarthy style of passing a guilty sentence on innuendo and partial facts is ever growing. And that is what feeds the frenzy. Never mind what the talking heads say this stuff just isn’t “Breaking News.” It’s just a very sad state of affairs that affects many live in many ways. So here we are on a small speck in this grand and glorious universe acting like spoiled children in the sand box and calling each other names.

As I’ve said before take a chance with your community and get out of the comfort of your houses and go listen and talk to a stranger. Don’t be afraid to talk to someone just because you might end up talking to someone who might be different than you.

The beauty of the Rush Rush through all of this is it stays the same. I sit surrounded by Sophia the Bulgar, Big Tech, the Georges and other Bulgarians. Next a group of Koreans followed by a Japanese group of customers will take tables nearby. And we all get along, well mostly. Generally any differences are resolved by talking and finding out the what and whys of any problem.

Through it all the ebb and flow of life continues. Hawney is replaced by Big Jake and across the way the Raven’s nest is as empty as the summer sky. All the false accusations and innuendos disappear or float away and in this little corner of this little planet human kindness is allowed to be. This quaint American experience of an intermingling of people, beliefs and cultures from around the world is the best defense to the sound bites and McCarthy style thinking of accusation and repercussion I have found.

Until next time,

Gump’s Brother

There are never enough I Love You’s.

Lenny Bruce

When I heard the recordings of Mel Gibson’s ranting and set aside the spewing I heard through the hyperventilating a lost male with rage and frustration boiling over could be heard. Drunk or not this was wrong and to me very sad. How did this man with such riches and fame get so sidetracked. Our society today has little room for the male instinct to prosper beneficially. We have games to be played and weights to be lifted and cycles to ride but the intrinsic nature seems to be so often unsatisfied. Thinking back to when I had horses and horse property my intrinsic male was healthy and vibrant. I was surrounded by a group of men that were in touch with themselves. They worked hard with the cattle and their horses or in their vineyards or driving the trucks or plowing their fields. Few if any had tattoos or other tribal signs on their bodies. They worked hard with meaning and laughed at themselves. After loading a ton of hay from a field surrounded by mountains onto the flatbed truck the following ritual of a cigarette with the rancher from whom I had gotten the hay from was a rich and shared experience. And once that was done there was work still to be done. Others, animals and family, were waiting for me to finish. I had wrestled with myself and nature to gather food for creatures in my care. When my young son was with me, the days where that much richer due to his presence. The bond between us only grew as the work progressed; each knowing what to do with few words being spoken. The ride back guiding the truck through the turns so as not to lose any of the load of hay was a continuation of the challenge. Once back the unloading the hay bales off the truck and stacking it into the barn was next. Often this work went well into the night only to be followed by a quick ball game in the arena with my son while the dogs were the outfielders. The male instinct had been served with the work and a sense of purpose and accomplishment followed by play.

Now living in suburban Chandler, Arizona and having only a lawn to mow life is not quite the same. The life is different here and there is very little outlet for the male instinct. Now that force has to find a different outlet and our modern culture doesn’t seem to have many such outlets for it. For me it flows through me via my art, writing, and Tai Chi as well as working on the house etc. There is a sort of purpose without a purpose to it all, I suppose. The male within has to be fed. Watching the Mels and Tigers thrash about and thinking on my life and the honorable men I have known I end up feeling a need for our society and culture to make a shift to allow expression for the male within. And here I am not referring to the TV or movie version of a male. Just as the Social Contract of Rosseau and others brought a change as to how we are governed maybe we now need a Cultural Contract to address these issues of disconnectedness. I don’t know that the behavior that we keep seeing from so many of the men in our country will change over night but I know what happened to me and I’m a changed man because of those experiences where forces within me were allowed to blossom in a way that I was able to serve myself and others as well.

So to Mel and Tiger, I offer this advice. And it’s easily affordable for men in your position. Buy a small piece of property, get some horses, put up a barn and set your own fences; hire out the work as little as possible doing as much as you can yourselves. You can cheat on those animals as much as you want or yell at them as often as you like. They will respond accordingly and will still need to be fed. Through it all you might get in touch with yourselves. Don’t forget to make friends with your neighbors as you will need them as they will need you. I promise you will come away a richer man and our society will be that much wealthier, as well.

Until next time,

Gump’s Brother

There are never enough I Love You’s.

Lenny Bruce

It’s a new day and it seems that the world has turned upside down. Listening to the radio I just discovered that in several states it is illegal to video tape a policeman arresting someone, even if it is a person in your party. Several people have been arrested according to the reporter. I think we have some paranoia here. My picture is being taken all of the time. Whenever I go to the bank, the ATM, any convenience store or even driving or walking down the street there is some camera recording my actions and I’m not pressing suit. Remember that,

“Paranoia strikes deep

Into your life it will creep

It starts when you’re always afraid”- Buffalo Springfield

So don’t be afraid. But what does this say for us today? Stephen Stills first penned those words in 1966 and they seem to still ring true today. But this time it’s the authorities that have a fear of being on camera. I decided that this called for Cool Dude. I’m sure that he had an experience to relate and sure enough he did.

It was in the late summer of 1966
when he and some of his erstwhile buddies hopped into a van and headed up the straight and narrow road to Sacramento, California. The summer was nearing its end and two females of the local group were heading off to a new life and school at Sacramento State College. Being a good neighbor and always willing to lend a hand Cool Dude had willingly volunteered for this party. And so it was on that day of enclosing heat
that Cool Dude and twenty six others travelled
north on a good cause with a party to follow. Amazingly, even after each carried a box of the household into the dwelling they all seemed to fit into the small apartment. Things went so smoothly that the two lasses
who were hostessing the operation started the party early while they locked themselves into a bedroom with their latest guys. There with windows open, curtains drawn and lights on they started inviting neighbors to the party. The immediate neighbors also attended the State College. They were studying police science and seeing what was occurring immediately accepted. A passing grade could be laying in wait.

The noise was growing and smoke was thickening when Cool Dud was made aware of a definite absence of the alternative tobacco and his lady wanted some. Leaving her he strode across the room to consult with Chief Sunshine only to find out the cupboard was bare. Being the cool dude that he was he called his old buddy, Rich Rich, who also was from the hometown and was attending college there, as well. Despite their best efforts little of the green ganja was to be found by the erstwhile explorers. What little was found quickly disappeared during the search. With a sad grin they came back into the party and found that the cupboard was still bare.

The two hostesses meanwhile where still in the bedroom but unknown to others they had some of the boo and were busy rolling it up and enjoying themselves without a thought of sharing! Actually there was so little it couldn’t be shared. Still such a good time was being had that no one noticed the coming and going of the neighbors. So Cool Dude, sitting with his girlfriend, thought nothing of it when the two neighbors jumped up to answer the knock at the door. But the surprise that came through the door took his breath away! It was the police, the Tactical Squad of the police in full armor with helmets and masks down and night sticks in hand, in fact!

There wasn’t much chaos but rather it was more of a stunned silence that covered the room. Everyone was drunk and thought this a minor bust not a dope raid. Few knew of the activities in the bedroom. Cool Dude with a gallon of cheap wine between his crossed legs and girlfriend by his side just kept on grinning. One by one names were given and all were gathered up to leave.

The lights glared, photographers photographed and reporters reported as they stepped out into the warm night air. Winding down the stairs Cool Dude could only think of Fellini movies. Then the movie truly took on the feel of a Fellini movie once they all were booked into Sacramento County jail, which is a maximum security type of institution due to the type of characters appealing to the State Supreme Court. The newspaper headlines the next heralded the arrest of the entire dope ring from down south!

Wisely Cool Dude didn’t call his father but rather he called his sis with that one precious phone call. Arrangements were made and soon enough he was bidding good bye to his new found friends on the second tier and heading out the door. Afterword he spent the next several days just opening and closing doors.

After other adventures of public activity and photography you could say Cool Dude did know about being photographed while the police were conducting business. He found it curious that now it’s the police that are worried about being photographed which is quite the opposite from his day. He commented as to how the worm turns this way and that when fear abounds.

With that thought winding to its end, my attention comes back here to the Rush Rush. The Re-recovery group is holding court close to the lake while the DigiKids sit next to me espousing on the wisdom of their lives and So toils behind the counter while Do Right is off enjoying his honeymoon with Brittany. I’m left wondering how many of us have been photographed today and just how much it matters in the grand picture of our stories.

Until next time,

Gump’s Brother

“Information is the currency of democracy.“

Thomas Jefferson quotes (American 3rd US President (1801-09).