Running Off at the Keyboard

The Hermit Philosopher sometimes needs to write like a cow needs to give milk. Here are some thoughts on a two totally unrelated topics: ambulances and ignorance.

Ambulances. I’m working on the 10th edition of my textbook and decided to include reference to the Emergency Medical Systems Act of 1973. In discussing this with a colleague, I learned that neither she (age about 55) nor her law students (mostly in their 20s) knew that the EMS system we now take for granted — the one with ambulances and EMTs at every firehouse and most hospitals — is a relatively new phenomenon.

Her students had watched a video about desegregation of hospitals in the early '60s, and they found it poignant that years ago some poor, Black patients had died while being transported to hospitals in hearses. In hearses, of all things! Egad!

I pointed out, however, that prior to creation of the EMS system about 50 years ago, it was common for patients -- rich or poor -- to be transported in hearses. After all, what other vehicle could comfortably carry a gurney or cot? A station wagon is not big enough. A pickup, large van, police “paddy wagon,” or flatbed truck might do, but not as comfortably. Thus, hearses were often used when the patient was unconscious, severely injured, etc., and of course some of them would die in route, regardless of their ethnicity or socioeconomic status.

This reminded me of an incident involving my own grandfather. Sometime in the early ‘60s he passed out at home. My father, being a physician, called for patient transport, and the person he called was John C., a family friend who happened to run a local funeral home. John arrived with his hearse and a driver, loaded Grandpa into the back, and took off for Dad's hospital. During the 10 minutes or so that it took to get there, Grandpa woke up, looked at Mr. C. (whom he knew), and said something like "You're early John. I'm still alive." 😂

Ignorance. The level of ignorance and outright imbecility in this country is frightening. For example:

● More than 70 million US citizens voted for a misogynistic, xenophobic liar in the 2020 presidential election, and many of them buy into his Big Lie about voter fraud despite there being no evidence supporting that claim. (Note: the audit of election results in Arizona resulted in an increase in Joe Biden’s victory margin there.)

● Millions of people refuse to be vaccinated, despite overwhelming evidence that the vaccines are safe and effective. (Remember: vaccines are why smallpox has been eliminated and we don’t see people in iron lungs anymore due to polio.)

● Untold tens of thousands get their “news” from talk radio, certain TV channels, and social media. These Weapons of Mass Distraction (the new “WMDs”) are cesspools of disinformation and conspiracy theories. 

 ● 10 percent of Americans question the existence of climate change and/or believe that if it is happening, it is not the result of human action. Another 10 percent (including the loser of the 2020 election) believe climate change is a conspiracy or hoax. (N.B.: 97% of climate scientists believe the climate is changing and humans are the main cause.) 

In conclusion. By one estimate, there are at least 100 billion galaxies in the universe and each one contains roughly 100 billion stars. That means there are at least 100 sextillion — 100,000,000,000,000,000,000,000 — stars in the universe. If only one in a quintillion of those stars has earth-like conditions, then perhaps there are a hundred thousand planets out there in the vastness of space that might have developed intelligent life! It’s too bad ours isn’t one of them. ■

News Flash: There's Too Much "News"

"Laws are like sausages; it is better not to see them being made." --Otto von Bismarck 

I recall this insight from the founder of the German Empire every time I open a newspaper, check my email, or turn on the TV or radio. With apologies to my journalist friends, I am tired of hearing the so-called "news" about politics. There's too much of it. After a while it's just noise. 

Before the days of the 24-hour news cycle, we got a summary each evening from the likes of Walter Cronkite, Ted Koppel, or Peter Jennings and a somewhat more detailed account in the next morning's paper. 

But now we have scenes like these, with reporters crowding around politicians for juicy soundbites about "up to the minute" developments. 

 

Here's a news flash for the media: you're being used.  I understand that you're just doing your job and that “an informed citizenry is the bulwark of a democracy”—thank you, Thomas Jefferson—but how well informed are we, really?

Politicians seldom contribute substance in these impromptu sessions. They just spout “talking points” and try to say things that will gain them votes in the next election. They should be in their offices or in a committee session working to do what we elected them to do: solve problems.

And here’s a news flash for the politicians: you’re being used too. Your soundbites will help publishers sell newspapers and airtime and gain readers/listeners. Then social media (aka “weapons of mass distraction”) will take your soundbites, distort them, and use them for their own disingenuous purposes. Which will fire up the crazies of the world, distract us from the truth, and create more soundbites. The news cycle is a vicious circle.

Finally, here’s a news flash for everyone: we’re all being used if we let ourselves get sucked into this vortex. We mistake posturing for importance. By way of contrast, consider what happens in labor negotiations. When the parties get serious, they call for a news blackout, roll up their sleeves, and get down to work.  

The Hermit Philosopher recommends this approach for people on Capitol Hill. 

Our Cross-Country Adventure

By WhoDat the Wonder Cat

My driver (Stuart Showalter) and I said goodbye to San Diego around noon on Friday, March 12, to begin our journey across the Southwest to Vermont via Atlanta and Reading, PA. I was concerned about the trip at first, but after voicing my discomfort for a few miles I realized that it was better if I let Stuart concentrate on driving, so I lay quietly in the back of the SUV most of the way after that.

Three hours down I-8 we crossed into Arizona and spent the night in Gila Bend. It was my first night ever in a hotel room, and I found that I could hide in a four-inch-wide tunnel between the box spring and the wall. I was soon coaxed out of there and the opening was blocked by pillows, but hide and seek became a game at each stop along the way. (You can see the pillow circled in the photo below.)

After exploring Phoenix the next day we checked into another hotel to await the arrival of our navigator, Cliff Mills, who was flying in from Seattle. We met his plane early Sunday afternoon and set off along I-10 for Las Cruces, NM. On the way, Stuart and Cliff were amused by the many billboards advertising fireworks, casinos, truck stops, etc., and one weather-beaten sign, in particular, caught their attention.

It was for a now-defunct local eatery known as  “BURGER TIME” that apparently served not only the iconic American ground beef sandwich but donuts too. The “e” in “Time” was missing on the billboard, so for the rest of the trip these two humans laughed about “Burger Tim” and his donuts. 

We spent Monday night in Fort Worth, TX, crossed into Louisiana on Tuesday, and arrived that evening in Jackson, MS. Until then Stuart and Cliff had prevented me from hiding in our various hotel rooms, but the misnamed “Quality Inn” motel in Jackson was the site of my most creative escapade.

After my companions went out to dinner, I found a small tear in the cloth underbelly of one of the box springs, and I climbed inside. When they returned, they couldn’t find me. I heard them calling my name, but  I didn’t reveal myself. They searched all over, even looking under the box spring on each bed. They should have noticed the bulge I created in the cloth, of course, but they didn’t. They thought I had sneaked out the door unnoticed when they left for dinner. After all, how many places are there to hide in a hotel room?

Stuart searched outside and asked the front desk clerk and a maid if they’d seen a missing cat, all to no avail. After about 30 minutes, with Stuart feeling heartsick over my apparent demise, I decided to reappear, much to his delight and relief. I was so proud of myself for this deception!

The next morning we drove through a horrible thunderstorm to the Birmingham, AL, airport and left Cliff to catch his return flight to Seattle. We later learned later that there had been tornadoes behind us in the storm and that Cliff’s flight had been canceled. He didn’t get home for two more days, but Stuart and I drove blissfully on to my “Aunt” Lynn’s house in Roswell, GA, where we stayed for a few days.

Upon leaving Georgia on the 21st we drove 13 hours to “Aunt” Susie’s home near Reading, PA. On the 25th she signed on as navigator, and the three of us then completed the journey: through upper New York State, crossing into Vermont south of Lake George, and on to the Burlington area. All told, we traveled 3,496 miles in 13 days, and I was pretty calm the whole way. Stuart nicknamed me the Wonder Cat for my ability to endure traveling with a minimum of complaint while providing amusement along the way.

We are now settled in our new apartment at 236 Zephyr Rd. #201, Williston, VT 05495. It’s a mere 0.8 miles as the crow flies from Sarah’s house, and she and her family get together with us frequently. It should be noted, however, that when Clover (age 6) and Forrest (age 2.75) come over I usually reprise my disappearing act and end up under the bed.

From what Stuart tells me, Vermont is a friendly, laid-back place and he likes it here. I, too, have grown fond of it. After all, his apartment is bigger than his San Diego condo, so it has more places to hide. LOL

Goodbye San Diego

As the Hermit Philosopher prepares to move away, he wants to reminisce on his years spent in Southern California.

When he moved here in early 2012, two of the HP’s offspring were California residents: Scott in LA and Sarah in San Francisco. The former was an easy train ride away, and the Bay Area was a short flight. Since then, Sarah has grown a family and moved three thousand miles to Williston, VT, near Burlington (photo). Steve, who formerly lived in Tarrytown, NY, also has a family and now lives in a suburb of Boston.

Thus today the family comprises nine people, counting the two spouses and three grandkids, and seven of them are already in New England. There is only so much time to be together, so the HP will soon leave Cali.

I’ve loved the San Diego area for years. During my Navy tour here (’74 to ’76) we had two young sons and found a seemingly endless list of ways to enjoy the perfect weather, the beaches, the world-famous San Diego Zoo, Sea World, Disneyland, scores of golf courses, etc. etc. We even took in the Rose Parade in Pasadena one year, and I was twice a marshal in what was then known as the San Diego Open, a PGA event held on the famous Torrey Pines Golf Course.

But I no longer play golf. I don’t go to the beaches. I don’t visit touristy venues. For recreation I read, write, watch sports on TV, and play duplicate bridge either in person or online during the pandemic. I can do these things whether it’s warm and sunny or 5° and snowing.

Yes, it’s true that for years I said, “If I never see snow again it will be too soon.” Well, too soon has come. In mid-March I’ll head east on a 3,000-mile car trip (SUV, no motor home as originally planned) across the Southwest then to Atlanta, Pennsylvania, and finally the Green Mountain State.

The good things California has to offer will be missed: the great weather, the relaxed lifestyle, and my friends and neighbors. But I won’t miss the potential for drought, wildfires, and earthquakes. I’ve felt four or five mild tremors in the last nine years. They originated way out in the desert on a branch of the San Andreas fault and caused no damage, but they were reminders of what will happen somewhere nearby one of these days. 

As the state song says, “I love you, California, you’re the greatest state of all.” But Vermont has a song too. It begins: “These green hills and silver waters are my home.” That will soon be the case for the Hermit Philosopher, who will post next from the other side of the continent. ■