Digital picture frame filled with memories

 

This post was published in the Wilson Times Oct. 23, 2020.

When our daughter and son-in-law gave us a digital picture frame a few years ago, we received the gift gratefully but without great enthusiasm. The gift is a simple video screen, about the size of a 5x7 enlargement, that displays each of the photos loaded onto a thumb drive that plugs into the back of the picture frame. At the time, it was the latest technology.

For the next few years, the ever-changing picture frame provided some amusement and distraction as we sat casually and watched the photos take their turns across the screen. We changed the photos loaded on the thumb drive from time to time to incorporate photo collections of my father-in-law after his death and a collection of pictures spanning my life for my 60^th birthday. We grew accustomed to the collections and gave the photos little attention. They were, as the digital expression goes, “wallpaper.”

Recently, however, I find myself stopped in mid-step as I catch a look at the photo-of-the-moment. I am nearly dumbfounded by a photo of a grandson seated in my lap, sometimes two grandchildren seated in my lap as I read a picture book to them. In another photo, I am seated in a little red wagon with one grandchild while our oldest grandson, just a toddler, attempts to pull the wagon around the yard. I know these grandchildren have aged ten years since they were as young as the picture shows, but I can’t help feeling transported back to the day the picture was made.

We are blessed with six grandchildren and have had the good fortune of spending time with each of them as they left the cradle and developed their own personalities. We took them on short trips, and we gallivanted with them in our back yard, playing games and inventing new games to spark their laughter and excitement. Moments so special they still bring a lump to my throat and tears to my eyes are preserved on that picture frame with the power to stop me in my tracks and make me stare, taking in the moment frozen on that small screen.

The technology on that screen is more common now. Everyone has “slide shows.” TV commercials use them. Convention venues incorporate them. Political ads use that power of pictures. A lifetime ago, I shot pictures with film and inserted the developed photos into a slide projector to shine on a screen for viewing. In a closet somewhere, I have a slide projector that was, in its day, the ultimate in home entertainment, and two dozen boxes of slides that are only useful when paired to that old slide projector. Our children and grandchildren got a few good laughs when we gathered them at a vacation cottage and had them watch many of the trays full of slides. The audience thinned rapidly after the first few minutes of grandchildren’s laughter at seeing their parents as small children.

If our children and grandchildren even glance at the digital photo frame on their rare visits to our home, I have not noticed. The pictures that stop me in my tracks are only uninteresting wallpaper to them.

My wife and I have discussed how quickly or grandchildren changed from the cute, cuddly, loving and altogether wonderful toddlers in those pictures to the teenagers who have their own schedules and interests and who now see us at eye level with our sagging skin, ancient ideas, out-of-touch thoughts and lost hair. We realize that the days of grandchildren’s visits and their wonder at our lives and stories are at an end.

I well remember two decades ago lamenting that the child I had held in one hand was now taller than I. But grandchildren are different from your own children. Parents are responsible for their children — providing food, shelter, moral principles, future college costs, etc. Grandchildren are more pure joy, delightful little people for whom you do not have ultimate responsibility.

A biblical blessing (Psalm 128) offers this: “May you live to see your children’s children.” I am living that blessing.

Turning over a new leaf: Early Voting

 This post was published in the Wilson Times Oct. 16, 2020

This year, for the first time in my existence, I am voting early. Early voting has become a part of the routine for every election year, and many people I know have said they enjoy voting early and enjoy the convenience of it.

While I have waited to vote on the official Election Day in the traditional manner, others would tell me, “I’ve already voted.”

A traditionalist, I found it satisfying to wait my turn on the one day that I and millions of others cast their ballots in a nationwide ritual of American democracy, an exercise as old as the United States. To me, Election Day was as exciting and as important as Independence Day, without the fireworks.

            But this year, with a dangerous pandemic making any large gathering a potential public health hazard, my wife and I decided we would vote early. If the virus didn’t grab us at the polling place, militant, armed “poll watchers” recruited by President Trump might endanger our lives in other ways. We could have voted by mail, but that option seemed less certain than an early appearance at a polling site and physically handing over our ballots for recording. With President Trump claiming mailed ballots are fundamentally fraudulent, I wanted my ballot to count. (Election officials have assured voters that voting by mail is secure.)

            As I am writing this, I cannot say that I have voted early. The first early voting day is Oct. 15, which is the deadline for this column. I fully expect to vote as planned. 

            I do have one experience in voting absentee: While fulfilling my military obligation in 1972, I would not be able to vote in North Carolina, where I was registered. I found out how to obtain an absentee ballot and mailed the completed form to the elections office. My vote counted.

            When I started work at The Wilson Daily Times, the late John Scott, editor at the time, warned me to always vote whenever there is an election. Scott’s thinking was that newspaper editors who failed to vote were leaving themselves open to criticism and ridicule if they urged others to vote but didn’t vote themselves. I don’t think I’ve missed a single election day since then.

            America has a poor record for turning out to vote. Only 56 percent of the voting age population voted in 2016, a presidential election year, which has higher turnout than non-presidential elections.

            Some have suggested making Election Day a national holiday as a way of encouraging and accommodating voters. That idea makes sense to me, but it hasn’t been adopted. Congress sets the date (currently the first Tuesday after the first Monday in November) for national elections. The states control most of the details of elections — the ballot, precincts, machinery, etc.

            And while America can claim its title as the oldest modern democracy, you don’t want to go back to the way our system worked at its inception. Originally, only white male property owners could vote. Women won the right to vote in 1920. The 15^th Amendment, ratified in 1870, extended the right to vote to non-whites whether they owned property or not. 

            It took the 14^th and 15^th Amendments, along with the 1965 Voting Rights Act, to ensure this year’s vote will be open to all Americans. So vote!

The Irony of Trump's Diagnosis

 This post was published in the Wilson Times Oct. 9, 2020

It is hard to escape the irony of the situation: The president who told his citizenry that the Corona virus was nothing to worry about, that “It will soon disappear … like magic,” would find himself infected by this virus that has killed 209,000 residents of the United States.

 

            The president had scoffed at the precautions recommended by his team of physicians and scientists at the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. He made it clear that he didn’t need a face mask, even after the CDC announced that the simple, cheap masks, along with social distancing, were the most effective means of controlling the virus. He dismissed the threat of the virus as nothing more than the flu or the common cold. Nothing to worry about.

 

            He wouldn’t even say the name of virus — Novel Corona Virus 19 — and the name of the potentially deadly and insidious disease it caused — COVID-19. He insisted on calling it the “China Virus,” a name not used by the scientific community or the worldwide effort to control the raging pandemic. It was his way of laying blame with China; he had declared “I take no responsibility.”

 

            Even worse, President Trump refused to follow local, state and national restrictions designed to prevent the spread of the disease. All health authorities recommended nationwide, comprehensive testing to identify infected persons and trace their contacts. But Trump opposed increased testing, saying, “I don’t want more testing.” He said he told the government to slow down testing because, he claimed, testing caused more infections.

 

            Trump continued to hold large, frequent campaign rallies that did not follow local or state precautionary measures, such as social distancing and mask wearing. Attendees were packed shoulder-to-shoulder in open air or confined venues that gave the virus open paths to new infections. He ridiculed his election opponent, Joe Biden, for wearing a protective mask to events.

 

            At Trump’s goading, refusing to wear a mask became a sign of masculinity and loyalty to Trump. The anti-mask sentiment led to numerous confrontations at retail stores and other places, where unmasked people shoved, threatened and even shot persons politely urging them to follow a mask mandate.

 

            When the virus finally caught up with Trump, he took an unannounced ride to Walter Reed Army Medical Center to get the best possible medical treatment. Few, if any, of the more than 209,000 Americans killed by this disease had access to such good health care. In a final insult to all who had urged the president to observe social distancing, mask wearing and other precautions, on Sunday, the president commandeered an armored vehicle and at least two Secret Service members for a joy ride around the hospital so he could wave at his fans cheering on the street or in their vehicles.

 

            Physicians say Trump should not have left the hospital in his fragile condition and certainly should not have endangered the lives of the other passengers in the air-tight SUV who were confined with a highly infectious patient.

 

            Americans of all stripes are wishing the president a successful recovery from this infection. Joe Biden and others have offered prayers and sympathetic notes to the president and his family. This is a time of irony, of unforeseen turns and shocking developments. It is not a time for ill will.

Pro athletes are leading cultural shift; will politicians follow?

This post was published in the Wilson Times Sept. 18, 2020

The collegiate and professional football leagues started their delayed seasons last weekend, and, if it means anything, I was glad to see the new seasons begin. But the Saturday and Sunday games were eerie and unlike any previous season opening weekend.

            Games were played in nearly empty stadiums following guidelines for preventing further spread of the COVID-19 virus. The roar of the crowd was a subdued whimper of a pre-recorded audio that sounded as bogus as it was.

            College and pro teams have adopted calls for racial equality and restraints on police violence. Banners and slogans on players’ uniforms and helmets repeated the sentiments of worldwide protests. The enlistment of college and pro athletes, most of whom have been silent as calls for justice, equality and fair treatment reverberated across the country, are now taking the lead. Widely admired athletes could be the catalyst that finally creates a reckoning on topics such as white supremacy and racial justice.

            Nationwide protests have brought these issues before the public, but in a democracy it takes legislation to change laws and to enforce the ideals in the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution. Now that burly NFL players have gotten our attention, who will craft the legislation to actually change America for the better?

            It’s obvious that this election season is as divisive as any on record. The violence that erupted in some protest cities has repulsed voters on the right and the left, and political strategists have not hesitated in presenting those flames as the certain result of electing the “wrong candidate.”

            Each year, voters tell pollsters they hate the televised political ads they see every election year. When I was a newspaper editor, I attempted to make the case that candidates should be spending their advertising dollars on newspapers, not TV. Polls showed that newspaper readers were far more likely to vote than those getting their news from TV. But that argument went nowhere. TV ads are unlikely to spark meaningful political discussion, but they do grab attention.

            As these TV ads grow more strident, political rhetoric more apocalyptic, our democracy gets weaker. Russian misinformation and other mischief are intended to sow distrust among voters.

            President Trump has shared in the implied criticism of democratic processes. He seems to want an election that is in as much disarray as his administration. He has ridiculed problems in primary voting. He has proclaimed voting by mail a fraud (although he does it himself). He has said if he loses the election must be fraudulent. Twice in North Carolina, Trump has urged people to vote twice, which is a felony.

            Attorney General Josh Stein has warned voters that voting twice is illegal. Inciting people to violate voting laws is illegal. Stein or a county prosecutor could charge Trump with encouraging fraudulent voting.

Control Nature? Oh, how we wish we could!

This post was published in the Wilson Times Sept. 25, 2020

    I contacted a friend (and former Wilson resident) now living in Oregon last week to ask how he’s faring amid the wildfires near his Oregon home. Wildfires are burning in Oregon, California and Washington. The wildfires are not receiving the attention they deserve as our eastern side of the continent is preoccupied with a presidential election, a COVID-19 pandemic, and a Supreme Court vacancy.

            But the wildfires on the West Coast are frighteningly real and disturbing. My friend is safe so far, but the fire season is not over, and this season is the worst in memory. On the East Coast, we have a multitude of hurricanes threatening the Atlantic and Gulf coasts. Before calendars turned to October, the hurricane center had run out of designated names for hurricanes and was turning to Greek letters for subsequent storms. Welcome Hurricane Beta.

            All of this reminds me of John McPhee’s slender book “The Control of Nature” from 1980. McPhee’s lyrical prose can lull the reader away from existential warnings his words convey. The fundamental message of the book is that humans cannot control nature. It is in humanity’s nature to want to control nature, but in the long run we cannot do it. Nature has all the time in the world, and it will ultimately prevail.

            McPhee’s book is divided into three sections, each dealing with a separate attempt to control nature. For generations, Americans have sought to control the Mississippi River and its tributaries. Dikes, levees and canals approved by the Army Corps of Engineers have been installed to force the Mississippi and the Atchafalaya rivers to flow where humans wanted them to go, but the rivers inevitably broke free from the engineers’ carefully laid plans.

            Residents of Iceland sought a way to prevent the flow of lava from active volcanoes from taking over towns and man-made structures. Efforts to cool the lava so that it was merely big, stationary rocks instead of hellishly hot and immediately deadly lava. Good try, but not a winner.

            The third example in this memorable book is the development of luxury housing on the hills around Los Angeles. Wildfires in those hills became a seasonal event where thin, arid topsoil would not support much vegetation, making those same hills the scene of mudslides as rainstorms washed away the thin soil and homes slid down the hills. Los Angeles, with an average annual rainfall of only 15 inches, was never suitable for human habitation without extraordinary efforts to transport water from other sites.

            Los Angeles has another problem: fires. The arid hills are home to chaparral, which McPhee’s book terms “one of the most flammable vegetation complexes there are.” The hills are covered in the volatile shrub. Those hills are a poor place to build a home or a city, but people love the view from those hills and expect nature to accommodate them, instead of vice versa.

            McPhee does not address one control of nature issue: development of barrier islands, such as the N.C. Outer Banks. For generations, people have built vacation homes, roads and towns on shifting sands from Maine to Miami. North Carolina spends billions to keep N.C. 12 open along the Outer Banks, but hurricanes punch holes through the asphalt almost every year.

            McPhee’s book was written before climate change became an environmental catch phrase, but ever stronger and more frequent hurricanes, heat waves, flooding and windstorms testify that things are changing. What hasn’t changed is people’s stubborn belief that they can control nature.

            They can’t.