Today marks fifty years since the National Guard fired on students protesting at Kent State, killing four and further polarizing sides in the Vietnam War debate.

The New York Times has a thoughtful piece on the incident and its consequences. More thoughts and a musical tribute by the Isley Brothers can be found here. Wikipedia covers the event in detail, adding its own historical perspective, and there will certainly be many other retrospectives in the media.

I recall watching the news that day and trying to make sense of what was, from any perspective tragic and senseless. I won’t comment here on the merits or on other’s comments, but there does seem to me to be some commonality in the moment to the Boston Massacre of 250 years ago, which I discussed recently, in which rebels and troops there were at odds.

During the Sixties and for some years thereafter, I clung to the belief that my generation would make the world safer, cleaner and more united. Derided now as “Boomers,” the best of us have done too little, and too many have formed a non-“Silent Majority” more reactionary than the parents who brought them up.

Some argue that when a group feels threatened they cling to shared social constructs as undeniable truths. The fact that they are not true, or not entirely so, is not only irrelevant, but something that unites them further, a bit like we “Elvis Lives” believers, though not so tongue-in-cheek.

When I see pandemic protesters in the news, I tend to think they are not protesting having to shelter at home or even being told what to do. They may not be thinking deeply enough, but they may be acting out of fear for a way of life they see fading away. Politicians who play to those fears risk confrontations we mark in history books, with all the unexpected consequences they may unleash.

Kent State will be quiet today, as most of us are occupied by a moment in history we hope to survive. Perhaps a quiet and contemplated remembrance on this day is best.

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The first modern print report of a sighting of the Loch Ness monster was published on this day in 1933 in the Inverness Courier. The creature had long been a local legend, dating back as far as the Sixth Century. The publication of a photograph, a year later fueled the legend and boosted local tourism, though it was later deemed a fraud – the photo but not necessarily the legend.

I’ve driven down the coast of Loch Ness, and though I never saw any monster, plenty of tour boats were in evidence in the otherwise placid scene, prompting me to wonder if perhaps we were the true monster. Eventually, the thought led to this prose poem:

A Reflection

“The important thing is that I believe in myself.”

Unknown

First of all, I’m not a monster.  It’s just you haven’t see the likes of me for longer than you measure time and to tell the truth it’s even been long for me.  And while that makes me a bit lonely, I’ve grown used to it after a few of your millennia.  I’ll have you know, I swam to these waters long ago and liked it enough to stay, which is a good thing since there seems no way out for now.  I may well be the last of my kind, but I’ll have to wait for the waters here to rise again to learn.  

I know that may seem long to you, who live and breed like fruit flies.  But to me time matters little, having seen the land rise from the seas that were my home and even some stars come and go, as I expect in time will you.  When that comes and you go, it should be peaceful again without your boats and tour guides that tell their tales of sightings as if I can’t hear them or simply don’t care.  

The truth is though I once found your company comforting in a way, scurrying along this lake’s long shoreline and fishing above me. Only now I hear the constant heartbeat of your motors running up and down my home in search of me, all the while believing I’m a myth; only I’m not.  

I sense now in the warmth of the air and this water that perhaps it is you who may soon be the stuff of myth, and one thing I can do well is to wait.  If that makes of me a monster to you, perhaps you should stop your useless searching for me and look into your own reflection in the waters above me.

When all is said, I suppose Nessie may have the last word.

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Sometimes a timely look back can provide perspective to make a safer path forward. On this day in 1954, the first field trials of the polio vaccine developed by Dr. Jonas Salk began in an elementary school in McLean, Virginia. Polio is now an almost forgotten concern, almost like times before the iPhone and Internet. It has not been entirely eradicated, however, and cases still occur occasionally even here in the U.S.

The disease, poliomyelitis, is hinted at in history records, but reached epidemic levels around the beginning of the Twentieth Century, reaching 58,000 new cases in the U.S. in 1952 and killing 3000. It affected children most severely, and those it didn’t kill often suffered paralysis and deformity. FDR was perhaps the most famous victim. I remember myself tales from my parents and theirs of what we now call social distancing during the Summer months when outbreaks of polio were most common.

Dr. Jonas Salk worked in the 1940s on flu vaccines before turning to address polio. His process was to kill the virus and then inject it into the bloodstream, which prompted a person’s immune system to develop antibodies against the disease. Famously, he tested his vaccine on himself and his family.

The 1954 trial involved testing the vaccine or a placebo on about two million school children. A year later, vaccinations began involving the public. Surprisingly, some of the recipients contracted polio, leading to the withdrawal of the vaccine. It turned out that about 100,000 doses of the vaccine contained the live polio virus. More rigorous vaccine testing and controls followed, but the vaccination rate took time to grow. In 1957, there were still 6000 cases of polio in the U.S. The advent of the Sabin oral version of the vaccine in 1961 did much to bring polio to its figurative knees.

Polio still exists today, sixty-five years later, in places in the world, even though it is eradicable, since it is only spread from human to human. The telling history lesson from its story, however, is how long a miracle cure can take to be developed for a disease and how missteps can occur in the rush to make it available.

I am not qualified as an epidemiologist, much less as a medical doctor, but then neither are many of television’s talking heads or those in positions of power who spout talk of curing the coronavirus by injecting disinfectants. Even if later claimed to be in jest, such comments are in bad taste (sorry), could cause harm to the foolish or unsuspecting, and perhaps worst, perpetuate false hopes that the coronavirus affecting us now will go away readily and soon.

Even the best benefits from science take patience, testing and time. In the meantime, perhaps we should all consider the past, care for those we can and protect everyone by preventing the spread of the latest of history’s pestilences.

Update: On May 21, the New York Times published a cautionary article on the difficulties in and hazards of hurried vaccine development. That is not to imply that haste is not urgent, but one word of caution should suffice: Hydroxychloroquine.

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I’ve written before about the tragedy of school shootings, but the confluence of two news threads brought the subject to mind once again. Today is the 21st anniversary of the Columbine shootings in which twelve students and one teacher were killed by two armed students, who also died. That was not the first instance of such slaughter, but it marked the beginning of a trend in such shootings that eventually became so common they scarcely made the news.

The second thread was the recognition in the press that March was the first month since 2002 without a school shooting. Gun sales have grown during the pandemic we are facing, but schools have largely been closed. One could observe that the former must be deemed more important by society than the latter, but of course, our reality is more complex than a simple direct comparison might reflect.

Still, some reflection on priorities is timely and worthy. This pandemic, as tragic as it is, has also illustrated what we can do as one when we work together. Excluding fringe truthers and the unwitting or dimwitted, the world has worked as one to minimize the spread of the new coronavirus. The sacrifices, economic and social, made by many have been significant, and there are signs that those better able to weather the impact have been willing to help others in need. Of course, hoarding of toilet paper belies such a claim, but then you see instances of people leaving rolls out for delivery people, which counts for something.

So while we are sitting at home, perhaps we can let our minds wander a bit and imagine what other great things we might be willing to accomplish together with some effort, goodwill and sacrifices like those we are making. The environment comes to mind, but maybe we could start with something like keeping kids safe when they return to schools.

Here is my earlier post.

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Opening day for Major League Baseball was to be today, a ritual and celebration of Spring and sport greater than Easter to many fans. As with so many things affected by the coronavirus, there will be no baseball today and probably for quite some time. Health and safety trump (lower case) even baseball, as they should, but a moment of silence in lieu of “Play Ball” is still warranted.

With that thought, here is a poem from How Not to Write a Poem, and Other Poems:

Field of Dreams

                  “Baseball is more than a game.  It is life played out on a field.”

                  Juliana Hatfield

The magic that occurs to a little leather ball

in the sixty odd feet between the pitcher’s mound 

and home plate is proof if any is needed

that God exists and that he invented baseball

And if you marvel at the complexities 

of nature and the mysteries of the universe

you can trace the mischief in his fingerprints 

through the mystic depths of the infield fly rule

that quantum state in which a dropped fly

is deemed caught even if it could not have been –

as mysterious as the retrograde of planets

retracing their arcs in the night sky

Where else can cold-blooded statisticians

and grass-stained boys share the uncommon joy

of twelve extra hits in a season

or stand in awe of a sinking fastball

inhale the scent of newly mown grass

hear the crack of hand-sewn leather on ash or

believe the dream of a walk off homer in the ninth?

It may be only a sand lot – but it is also Wrigley Field

Life may feel as cruel and unfair at times 

as a called strike that was high inside

but in baseball every day is opening day and 

hope lives forever in the two words “Play ball!”

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One hundred and two years ago yesterday as noted in the repeat post below from 2018, the misnamed “Spanish Flu” began its march around the world. Today we face an as yet unmeasured sequel in the form of COVID 19. It is much too soon to offer a meaningful comparison between the earlier pandemic and this one. The rate of spread of COVID 19 and the measure of its deadliness is only speculation at this point. We also live in a much different world, with many more potential victims engaged in wider travel. Fortunately, health care is generally better in most countries, though we have no specific treatment for this new disease and can only help enable healthy bodies to do their best to combat the disease.

One difference we have identified is that the 19018 flu hit young adults the hardest, while this virus attacks the elderly most severely, particularly in their lungs.

When you are faced with plagues of Biblical proportion, it is fitting perhaps to look to Biblical examples for some lessons. One that comes to mind is the admonition of Joseph to Pharaoh that Egypt should save for seven years to prepare for the lean years to come. In our time, we, or at least pharmaceutical companies and the wealthy, have been reaping richly but have neither saved nor invested properly for these times. The price we pay in live may be dear.

Here is my earlier post.

George Santayana wrote that those who can’t remember the past are doomed to repeat it, a sentiment said by others in many ways, though we rarely heed the advice.  It was 100 years ago now that the world encountered a pathogen more deadly than the world war then at its height.

The 1918 flu killed somewhere between 50 and 100 million people.  The first record of what was later confirmed to be a new strain of influenza was on March 4, 1918 when Albert Gitchell reported sick to the doctor assigned to Fort Riley in Haskell County, Kansas, who was Dr. Loring Minor.  By the time Gitchell died, over 500 soldiers at the camp had sickened as well.

The area where the fort was located was pig-farming country, which could have spread the disease to humans, but other theories of its origin suggest that its first human infections occurred in Asia.  What pathologists do know is that the circumstances of 1918 were the setting for the perfect contagion storm that took place.  For the first time in history, travel across and between countries had become common.  Soldiers from all sides were packed closely together making the spread of the flu through coughing a firestorm of disease.  As they were transferred, they carried the infection with them.

Notably, the 1918 strain of flu struck hardest at the young, especially soldiers, presumably because they had not gained any level of immunity from similar strains that older persons might have experienced.  Once the disease had been identified, the public was urged to stay isolated and to wear masks in public.  All that were available, however, were of porous cotton, which offered little protection.

The central focus for the disease became military bases in France, where soldiers passed through on the way to the front.  Oddly, it took the name, the “Spanish Flu,” because the country was neutral, and the press there was permitted to report the extent of the carnage the disease caused.

By whatever name, the virus is believed to have mutated as it circled the globe, becoming even more virulent.  It ultimately may have abated only because it had consumed most of its available victims.  In the course of less than a year, 3 to 5 percent of mankind died.

With modern medical care and flu vaccines, we tend to downplay the impact of the flu today.  A 2013 study, however, estimated that a similar flu pandemic today would kill perhaps as many as 300,000 in this country alone – better than half of the impact of the 1918 strain here.  If those numbers don’t concern you, consider the fact that this year’s flu vaccine appears to have only been 20 percent effective.

There is little we know about influenza.  Indeed, we can only guess what type of flu will come later this year and cobble together vaccine elixirs that we hope will help.  One wonders what Santayana, who lived through the 1918 pandemic, would say today.

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The first engagement in what became the American Revolution took place on this day, two hundred and fifty years ago. In it, British troops fired on a crowd of several hundred who had gathered to taunt soldiers occupying Boston to enforce Townsend Act taxes in the colony. The incident became known as the Boston Massacre.

Accounts of the evening are many and were largely consistent. The crowd outnumbered the soldiers, who had loaded their weapons and ultimately fired without being ordered to do so. Eleven in the crowd were shot and several died on the scene. The first to die was Chrispus Attucks, a former slave, which we can now look back on as an ironic twist of fate. He was one of about 5000 African Americans who fought for the American cause in the Revolution, where slavery survived far longer than in the British Empire.

The soldiers and their Captain were indicted for murder amid outrage over the shooting. Several lawyers refused to represent the defendants. John Adams, already known as opposed to British rule, did so as perhaps the first American lawyer to put the rule of law above personal preference and public interests.

Six were acquitted and two who were found to have purposefully fired into the crowd were convicted of manslaughter. Their punishment was to be branded on the thumb in open court.

Adams was not alone in doing what was just and right. Samuel Hemmingway, a surgeon who tended to one of those shot, testified that the victim felt the soldiers had fired in self defense. The victim, Patrick Carr, died from his wound, making Hemmingway’s testimony perhaps the first “dying declaration” exception to the rule against hearsay testimony.

We look back on this era as if the Revolution ensued quickly, but it was five long and troubled years before war began with “the shot heard round the world” at Concord. Change and hopefully progress often takes its time, which is something to bear in mind in dark days when one might wonder where justice and hope for the future resides and who will stand against the tides of sentiment to do what is right.

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The highest of our courts has had its say in the case of Sergio Adrian Hernandez Guereca and found that his parents have no right in this country to sue over his killing by a border control agent who shot him twice him from across the border, killing him in Mexico. The case was Hernadez v. Mesa. A second, similar case involving a cross border killing in which a child was shot sixteen times was also decided in the same way by the court.

The boy was fifteen, and it is said he had been playing a game in which he ran across a cement culvert to touch the border fence and then run back. A video taken at the time apparently shows him throwing pebbles at the agent, but I can’t locate a copy online and am not sure I want to witness him being shot in the face. For the record, the Justice Department found there was insufficient evidence to charge the border patrol agent with any crime.

The five justice majority called the incident tragic, but then devolved into rationalizations of national security and diplomacy, neither of which topic will ever offer solace to the child’s parents.

For any who might think this post is a screed against the current Administration’s immigration policies, this particular killing took place in 2010, during the Obama years. Separating families and housing children in conditions where some have died deserves its own condemnation, but I’ll save that for another day and time.

I spent the past few days trying to process the result of this case, until I realized something like it happens all too often here within our borders, which is equally unthinkable but true. In working through my dissonance I put these lines on paper, to express my feelings. I respect your right to reasoned disagreement, but when all is said, my thoughts land here.

He Had a Name

A Mexican boy of 15

Sergio 

playing at the border

Adrián

shot in the face

Hernández

for throwing pebbles

Güereca

at a border agent

He had no rights here

            Jesus Hernandez

or his parents to sue

            Guadalupe Guereca

found the courts

And some here ask 

            Michael Brown

in our land of the free

Trayvon Martin

why this is news at all

            Tamir Rice

where young blacks

            Cameron Tillman

are shot by police 

Laquan McDonald

so often now

Jordan Edwards

we forget 

Samuel Mallard

their names

Kwame Jones

De’von Bailey

JaQuavion Slaton

Brandon Weber

Wiley McCoy

D’ettrick Griffin

Ramarley Graham

Kendrec McDade

Tony …

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One hundred years ago on this date the Eighteenth Amendment went into effect, one year after having been ratified by the requisite number of states, under the terms of the amendment as proposed by Congress in 1917.

I’m sure most pundit commentary on this anniversary will concern itself with the futility of legislating morality and the repeal of prohibition in 1933, but the amendment is also a footnote to something that took place just this week, when the Virginia symbolically ratified the Equal Rights Amendment.

What would have been the 28th Amendment, guaranteeing equal right to women, is not likely to become the law of the land because the terms of the authorizing legislation required that the amendment be ratified by 38 states by 1979, seven years after finally being authorized by Congress. (The ERA was first proposed in 1923, as part of the series of social reforms that led to Prohibition.) The ERA, as ultimately passed by Congress, fell short of the required state ratifications in the time allotted, but continued to be pursued by a variety of interest groups and passed the required three-fourths of the states now over forty years later.

The interesting thing about the Eighteenth Amendment in this context is that it was the first proposed amendment to require ratification in a set time period. The Supreme Court upheld this time limit in Dillon v. Gloss, making it likely that Virginia’s action will be deemed merely symbolic and perhaps an attempt to prod Congress to reauthorize the ERA. Still, you never know what the Court might say this time.

To add to the confusion, four states (Nebraska, Tennessee, Idaho and Kentucky) have tried to rescind their ratification of the ERS. The Supreme Court also held, in the case of Ohio’s conditional ratification of the Eighteenth Amendment, that the state’s action was valid and final. This seems to imply that attempts to backtrack on the ERA would be considered invalid.

Of all this, I suppose, one thing will certainly be true. When all is said, someone will find a way to say still more.

And, as a follow up, several states are suing to have the ERA declared in effect.

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The only person ever to pitch a perfect World Series game, Don Larsen, died yesterday at the age of 90. In his fifteen years as a journeyman pitcher for seven teams, Larsen amassed a mediocre record of 81-91, but for one magical day in 1956 he was perfect, defeating the Brooklyn Dodgers with no hits, no runs, and no errors.

Much has been written about Larsen’s feat and his life, which were something of a contrast. He confessed that his control over the baseball and his enjoyment of a good time in life were far from perfect, and he himself lived in awe of his accomplishment with apparent humility.

Game five of the Series could easily have gone the other way, with both hits, home runs and one potential error snatched from the Dodgers by excellent fielding from the Yankees team. As the game progressed, Larsen said that he realized he had a no-hitter going (something that had never occurred in the World Series and has not since). It was not until the game was over, Yogi Berra had leapt into his arms, and Larsen had returned to the dugout, however, that he learned he had pitched a perfect game.

In today’s era of frequent pitching changes and end of game closers, it is increasingly likely that there will never again be a perfect Series game. Like Joe DiMaggio’s 56 game hitting streak, Don Larsen’s perfect game is apt to remain pinnacles in a game measured by numbers. Larsen’s, like the ones on his license plate will stand: “000.”

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