What I didn’t know then was that many of these programs offered fairly admirable presentations of right versus wrong, moral choices in which the hero, at least, worked things out for the best in the end. This is, for the most part, long gone from television and cinema.
One thing in particular about The Lone Ranger—he never rode alone. His faithful and intrepid friend Tonto, the Ranger’s Indian sidekick, more than once got the Ranger out of trouble. Back in the day Indians-then, Native Americans-now, didn’t get much credit, but Tonto was a man for all seasons, a man “to ride the river with.”
So-called "gender issues" are synchronous, that is in time, with my adult life. I remember Women's Lib, bra-burning, and the ERA in the 70s. As I say this, I don't mean to imply that everything about these movements, actions, and legislation was wrong, bad, or misguided. In fact, I do not. But issues and movements tend to expand, sometimes beyond what the founders envisioned or even desired, sometimes to levels most would call extremes.
The phrases "gender issues" or "gender confusion" these days involves a lot of extremes well beyond the initial desire of reformers in the early 20th Century who worked to earn for women the right to vote and beyond what reformers in the late 20th Century wanted for women in equal pay for equal work, equal access, or simply equality in the marketplace of ideas, professions, and culture. Today gender issues involve what must be labeled sexual immorality at the least or perversion at the worst.
This video column scratches the surface of these issues with what amounts to an introductory comment:
The West, including the U.S., tends to interpret everything that happens in the Middle East and North Africa in terms of religion. In other words, we see the social and political turmoil daily rocking countries like Syria and we say, religion is behind all this. Maybe, but probably not, at least not all of what we see.
Certainly religion is involved in everything that takes place in the Middle East and North Africa. To some extent religion has been involved in the protests, conflicts, or revolutions called the “Arab Spring.” But religion doesn’t explain why dictators hang on to their posts with a death grip. Religion alone doesn’t explain why people risk their lives, why fighting has morphed into vicious guerilla warfare, or why other countries in the region don’t intervene to stop the killing in Syria.
What explains most of what’s happening in the region is simply the old evil triumvirate of power, greed, and corruption. Dictators like Ben Ali, Gaddafi, Mubarak, and now Assad want to hang onto power as long as possible. They don’t want to and for the most part don’t step down voluntarily. What they do, typically, is leave office only when they are in a box.
And the triumvirate of self-aggrandizement is also at work among the opposition. Unfortunately, the rebels, insurgents, or protestors are not all freedom fighters. They are people who want power and are willing to do anything to get it. Once in control, no one is quite sure what kind of government and society the new regime would allow.
So it would behoove those of us in the West to step carefully in our foreign policy re changing or emerging regimes in the Middle East and North Africa. There’s still a place for realpolitik.
This is a scholarly biography, but the word “scholarly” shouldn’t scare readers away. While hundreds of books have been written about Betsy Ross, mostly for children, no one until now has seriously attempted to separate fact from fiction and place the woman and the legend in context.
Marla R. Miller writes a book that presents Betsy’s Ross’s life and legacy in as accurate a manner as historical evidence allows. She respects the woman and even the myths that have grown up around the story of the origin of the nation’s first flag. In other words, this isn’t a book with an agenda aimed at trashing a cultural icon. That said, Miller doesn’t back away from citing what we don’t know, what we likely will never know, and what we do know that doesn’t match or corroborate certain iconic interpretation.
One reason Miller doesn’t write fluff is that she’s a recognized professional historian. Another reason is that early on she understood that, though the historical record is often sadly slim or silent, what we can know for sure about Elizabeth Griscom Ross Ashburn Claypoole is interesting enough.
The woman subsequent generations came to know as Betsy Ross did live in a unique time and place at this nation’s genesis, she did play an entrepreneurial and artisanal role as a woman with courage and resolve in early American life, she did make if not the first flag (we still don’t know for sure) than certainly hundreds of US flags in the first decades of the nation’s existence, and she became the beloved matron of a large and loving extended family. So we can remember, respect, and enjoy Betsy for what we know she did, not just for what we wish or think she did.
Not much about Betsy’s personality survives. But Miller believes what evidence we have suggests a woman that was decisive when necessary. She was a person who took considered risks, like marrying a second and third time when her first two husbands died young. She was apparently a woman with an admirable work ethic, and she was clearly a woman with compassion, for time and again she took down-and-out family members into her home, sometimes for years. She was a woman who knew her own mind and made decisions accordingly with respect to religious conviction. She married outside the church when she felt it right, and she became a key and long lasting part of the Free Quaker movement of her day.
Miller celebrates Betsy Ross as an early American woman who was what we’d call today a survivor. She didn’t give up, she didn’t fall apart, she didn’t run away. She did what she had to do to get through, and this she did until death claimed her as a woman full of experiences, full of the love of family, and full of days.
Dick Clark died this week at 82. I am sorry for his family.
It’s interesting to watch and listen to people’s reactions when a celebrity passes away. For one, while tens of thousands die everyday, some in extreme and avoidable circumstances like war, the world pays little attention. When one celebrity dies, the world notices.
People worldwide are tweeting, writing, and talking about Clark’s life and legacy. I don’t have a problem with this. It’s a way of expressing respect for a human being. I have nothing against Dick Clark. I even liked some of the things he did and is remembered for in entertainment. None of what I say here is really about him. It’s just that his passing triggered these thoughts.
Sometimes I wonder at the comments offered when a celebrity dies. When John Lennon was killed in 1980 the world fell apart, and it was indeed a tragedy. Eventually I read a piece praising Lennon for his “generosity” because he’d given $65,000 to nonprofit work. I remember that number clearly. I’m glad he gave, and this amount of money was worth more then than now, but frankly, I wasn’t impressed. Reason was, I’ve worked in nonprofit organizations all my adult life and I’ve seen people give hundreds of thousands and even multi-million dollar gifts numerous times, attracting no media. But then again, these folks didn’t give to make the papers.
One article I read waxed rhapsodic about Dick Clark, saying his influence was profound, that there’d never be another like him. Again, no disrespect intended to Mr. Clark, but “profound”? Dick Clark was a television host and producer. He’s most remembered for “American Bandstand” and his lifelong youthful looks. There will “never be another like him”? There already is: his showbiz heir, Ryan Seacrest. Frankly, while Mr. Clark’s contributions to entertainment are admirable, there are many unsung heroes in this world whose influence is or will be much more profound.
People are moved when a celebrity dies in part because it’s an inescapable reminder of their own mortality. It’s a reminder that you can live for the Devil if you want but eventually your life comes to a close and an accounting. As such, celebrity funerals are sometimes an exercise in denial.
At Frank Sinatra’s funeral in 1998, Kirk Douglas told the media heaven would be rockin’ tonight because Frank was there with the Rat Pack. Excuse me? Frank and the Rat Pack? What in or about Frank’s life, great talent though he was, would lead anyone to think he’s partying in heaven? I hope he is, but there’s no evidence in his life to suggest it.
None of this is to minimize the importance of any individual. When Whitney Houston died of drug abuse earlier this year in her 40s people rightfully mourned. They mourned the silencing of an incredible voice, a rare gift. They mourned the passing of a human being. They grieved that one had departed too young.
All this is good and appropriate. But we sometimes go over-the-top when a celebrity passes. We seem to lack perspective, an ability to honor and appreciate and reminisce while also understanding right, wrong, and consequences. America’s celebrity-watching seems to have morphed into celebrity-worship, something unhealthy for both the celebrity and the culture.
All human beings matter. All are worth celebrating—at least for their humanity if not always for their humaneness. Perhaps that is what we should ponder in the wake of a celebrity’s passing.