My Christmas Present — Hit By a Motor Vehicle while Bicycling

This past year for me has featured several significant events. And it ended with yet another one.

I got hit by a motor vehicle while riding my bicycle on Christmas Eve. One moment I was riding south around St. Nicholas and 122^nd Street and the next moment — seven hours later — I was in Harlem Hospital's Emergency Room, with two cops standing in front of me asking me to describe my bicycle. Scrambled brains from a concussion don't do well in such a situation, and they left without giving me any information, even their Precinct location.

Fortunately, all scans were negative — multiple CTs, multiple X-rays, and an ultrasound; they were quite thorough. I received exemplary care from hospital staff during my one-day-of-observation stay (the food, too, was quite good!), and I was discharged on Boxing Day. And, if MetroPlus doesn't kick about not getting an NYPD incident report (see below), I'm fully covered for my healthcare.

To this day, I don't know exactly what happened. My discharge papers state my "All Treated Diagnosis" as "Assault by being hit or run over by motor vehicle..." and under "Hospital Course" states in part "...hit from the side by a low velocity SUV." My brain has blocked or has had erased any memory of the incident and the seven hours after it. My belief is that I may have been a victim of "hit and snatch". Whoever hit me probably wanted my bike or its head and tail lamps. But without proof of an investigation and the help of memory, I can't prove that.

I don't believe that an Incident Report was ever filed by the cops which, one of my friends says, is not unusual for bicycling/motor vehicle encounters. Nor was I in good enough condition to quickly follow up on my own once discharged. Also, it doesn't help that it was the Christmas/New Year's holiday period. However, a representative from Harlem Hospital's Patient Financial Services needs an accident report in order to file a no-fault claim, so I need to do some digging. Although the report (if it exists) costs nothing for me to obtain, apparently it is not automatically sent to me. Also, apparently the EMTs did not leave a report at the hospital, which they are supposed to do.

My prized road bike is gone, and I need to replace it, but I don't think I'll be able to retrieve it. But I've pulled out my receipt of purchase from 20 years ago, just in case it has been stored for me to retrieve. However, I'm alive, and thankful that I received good medical care. The only scars I have seem to be a few scratches, a bit of a sore right ear and, unfortunately, another realization that the NYPD needs an upgrade.

There are lots of bicyclists in New York City, most densely in Brooklyn. Queens presents more problems than Manhattan or Brooklyn. I think here (mostly east of me, away from Manhattan) and on Staten Island (the "forgotten borough"!), too many motorists still don't want to share the road. But they are going to have to get used to it — a lot more bike paths, lanes, and routes are planned, and there are more bicyclists doing their bit for the environment, their health, and to save time — really! Bicycling rather than taking transit, bus, or driving often gets you to your destination faster, especially when you're in shape.

New York has been praised as a "bike-friendly" city, comparable to many European cities. It's better than London, believe it or not, which embraced the automobile with a vengeance when North Sea Brent crude oil was discovered. That evaluation, however, does not take into account motor vehicle drivers' attitudes toward two-wheeled vehicles. Bicycles have a right to use the road in much the same way as motor vehicles, with some relatively minor exceptions. Enforcement of traffic laws needs to bear that in mind, accept that, and fight the perception that every bicycle/motor vehicle incident is always the fault of the bicyclist. It is not, period.

During the December holidays, stress seems to get to more motorists who act out on seemingly anything smaller or slower than they want to go. Rather more than a few are from out of town and don't know our bicycle-respecting customs (Tourist drivers! New Jersey drivers! Yuk!!). But that does not exonerate NYC residents who drive; they can be just as bad.

I'm out again, riding my "street bike", commuting and doing errands. It's a heavier, straight-handlebar mongrel, pieced together by a local bike shop so that I could have something that isn't terribly enticing to thieves and which can well take the abuse thrown at it sometimes by the streets of New York City. I won't stop riding a bicycle — still the most energy efficient form of transportation invented. It remains my main source of exercise and well-being — after making music, of course!

HEADS UP!!

Texting While Walking — "Wexting"

I enjoy listening to the podcast, Note to Self, available through WNYC's website. One episode on wexters (those who walk and text at the same time, often oblivious to what is going on around them) elicited a reaction from me, which I put down into words and emailed to them:

 

In your podcast, "On Wexting and Other Woes", I found your guest somewhat too forgiving of wexters and definitely so regarding the issue of an individual's power to make a difference — in this case, getting wexters to stop wexting. She discourages one to follow the advice, "See Something? Say Something", which got me to thinking...

 

Of course, I have a little more power in this regard, being a rabid... er... avid bicyclist. I often encounter wexters who have stepped off the curb and who would have me mow them down if not for my resonant tenor voice yelling, "Heads Up!!" — or the sometimes not-so-polite equivalent. It works every time — usually accompanied with a look of horror from them and a wry smile — even a malicious giggle — from me. (By the way, the bicycle bell may be the "legal" warning device, but is quite ineffective in this case, and many others.)

 

This certainly is different from encountering a wexter in less dangerous situations — say, as a pedestrian, stepping out of the way of an approaching, foot-traffic-oblivious wexter or the rather comical scene of watching a wexter walk into a street-sign pole (certainly a sight almost demanding a giggle or even a guffaw!). However, as a pedestrian there are ways to battle the oblivious wexter and/or help them avoid injury. Here's a couple of methods:

 

•             Stand still; when the wexter is just about to run into you, go "Boo!" — then run like hell. (This could be considered normal eccentric New York behaviour, eh?!)

•             If you'd prefer not to be too eccentric, simply move quickly left or right (your choice) just as the wexter is ready to run into you, then walk on. Do not look back. Most folks have sufficient peripheral vision to get the drift.

•             A rather loud "EXCUSE ME!" often works in the middle of subway stairs. Always make sure to say "Thank you" afterwards.

•             And, of course, always giggle, laugh, or guffaw when a wexter runs into something. The harder the object run into, the more vigorous you response can be. But — If there's blood, call 911... on the victim's smart phone, if possible.

 

By the way, I don't own a smart phone; it would be too much of a temptation for me to become yet another victim of wexting, falling into oblivion, or worse. And I don't use my flip-top-beam-me-up-Scotty cell phone while riding. That and texting is illegal when operating any vehicle, probably even skateboards (skexters??). Although each of us [probably] wishes not to be that silly individual who is always accosting wexters, skexters, or bicyclexters, telling them to cease and desist, the subtle art of New York streetwalking does include a sufficient repertoire of reactions to them which, I guarantee you, will get the point across enough times to buoy the ego of any anti-wexter. See Something?? Well — "Where there's a will, there's a way..." And — have fun with it.

 

A Tale of Ignorance and Stupidity

A Response to a facebook Post

Just after Thanksgiving, 2015, I saw this post on my timeline, shared by one of my FB friends. It went viral, eliciting a half-million shares and at least that many comments on various users' pages. I seem to recall, rather dimly, that this may have appeared one Monday some years ago under the "Metropolitan Diary" subsection of The New York Times. Still, it is as relevant today as it was then and, unfortunately, maybe more so.

---

"The man" has an obvious, pathologic need to control others. He is also ignorant and wasn't educated in a manner that resulted in a respect for people from other cultures, nations (incl. Navajo, Six Nations, Inuit!), and countries. He could have been of any race, but the writer chose "white" to emphasize that there is indeed some sad truth to the stereotype of Caucasian ignorance in the U.S. But please: Let's understand from the get-go that white folks in the U.S. don't have a local, national, or worldwide monopoly on these traits... right?

It's not enough to "wipe the slate clean" periodically or daily, like one facebook comment stated. That's like erasing a hard drive of all of its data. It ignores history and degrades our ability to build healthy relationships with our fellow humans. What is necessary is for all of us to work toward making our society here in the United States (note that I didn't say "America" — a continental label that is much more inclusive!) one where we all embrace knowledge, fairness, inclusion, kindness, and respect, one in which everyone is motivated to constantly reevaluate their own weaknesses and endeavor to correct them (see why you can't "wipe the slate clean"?), and one in which each person — citizen or not — cultivates an inquiring spirit ("the man" would have realized that Mexicans speak Spanish... but, like us, as their national, official language, maybe not as their native tongue!).

This is what I get out of this reported encounter. Fight ignorance. Be inclusive. Explore other [U.S.-resident] cultures. Here in NYC, every country in the world and many sub-cultures within these countries, including our own, are represented, replete with their sometimes rare and "dying" languages. What a wonderful experience — every day! And, even though New York City is extremely rich in racial, cultural, and language diversity, it doesn't mean that other regions of the U.S. are diversity deserts.

Yes, we can encourage or even require everyone to attain a certain level of fluency in English; after all, that is our official language. It brings us all together as one nation and enables us to successfully perform governmental and commercial transactions. But we cannot be "whitewashed" anymore — although we've certainly tried, mostly unsuccessfully, in the past. Whatever we call ourselves — a vast and multicolored mosaic, a melting pot, a smorgasbord, a potpourri — it must be fully realized, preserved, and nurtured, so that we can get around to the important business of building a better world for everyone — now and for future generations.

Now:

►          Turn down the volume.

►          Gather ample data and evidence.

►          Think rationally.

►          Respond not with cynicism, anger, vitriol, or disrespect, but with kindness, respect, levity and, especially, understanding.

►          If we are to have a productive conversation, we need to keep on subject and listen and think before responding.

By and through these logical and thoroughly moral techniques — probably often used by our country's founders in conceiving this nation — we can be a great people, because we can be a sum of all of our parts — one with a good head on our shoulders!

Police Brutality in Long Island City This Morning

I observed what I believe was excessive force from two policemen on the platform, Queensboro Station (Ditmars-bound N, Flushing-bound 7) from ~4:20am to 4:38am.

I got a flat tire on my bicycle, cutting short an early morning ride, so I went to Queensboro Station to take the N-train back to my home. The time was around 4:20am.

When I got onto the platform, a few men who were waiting for the train told me of a man that was being "beat up bad" by two policemen. I went to the east end of the platform and observed one higher ranking officer (lieutenant was what one witness told me, a.k.a. "white shirt") and a uniform officer struggling with a man who was down on the ground. When the man who was being restrained would wriggle (and even when he didn't), the "white shirt" would hit him forcefully with his nightstick. I was at an angle at which I could see the "white shirt" strike the restrained man's torso at where the liver is and close or on the bottom of the left ribcage. This went on for about eight minutes before the uniform officer used his radio. A couple of minutes later, about ten uniform and four plain-clothes officers arrived to assist. The N-train arrived at that time (4:38am), and I boarded the train. The man ("suspect") was not moving, and I heard the sound of a fire truck, possibly arriving at the station.

Two witnesses spoke to me at length, including one who was there when the "white shirt" and the uniform officer approach the suspect. They told me the following:

 

There was some talking to the suspect from the "white shirt", and after a bit the suspect started to walk away. One of the officers sprayed mace toward the suspect at close range and the suspect put his arm up to shield his eyes and tried to run away. The uniform officer put the suspect in a "choke hold" — both witnesses demonstrated and described to me the type that is banned by NYPD policy. Both witnesses recalled that the suspect was hit numerous times and specifically mentioned that the blows to the legs seemed to be hard enough to break them.

I asked another person who was observing the struggle whether there was blood and he said, "Yes — a lot." When the N-train arrived, two witnesses entered the train car with me; Both of them were able to get a good look out the window at the suspect, and both of them said it "looked bad".

One of the witnesses took pictures during the first part of the incident. Some others who were waiting for the Ditmars-bound N-train or the Flushing-bound 7-train saw another person taking a video of the incident, but they said that person got nervous and left.

One of the witnesses also recounted a few times when the "white shirt", who often strolled through the train, would address passengers on the N-train: one he told to move his feet out of the aisleway, another couple of passengers were told to adjust how their smartphones or purses were situated so that "some young guy doesn't come in and snatch it" (quote from witness). The witnesses' impression was that the "white shirt" "must be crazy."

I asked the man who took pictures to send them to me and that I would make sure they got to you and other news outlets. I haven't received them yet, and I don't know whether he will send them, but if and when I received them I will immediately send them to you.

I believe that Queensboro Plaza is served by the 117th Precinct.

I have lived at my address in Astoria for over 25 years.

Personal thoughts: This is the sort of incident of police behavior that I thought I would never witness. However, I also have never been terribly impressed by officers that I have encountered who are stationed in the 117th Precinct. Although I have never seen something as bad as what I saw this morning, I don't trust at least some of those who are work out of that precinct. I also am not happy with their patrol and enforcement priorities, which to me seem to favor roaming around the projects and not preventing crime in my neighborhood. This incident I describe is also not the first over-reactive police event that I have heard of; a couple have occurred in my area, too. Unfortunately, the details have faded from my memory with time.

Let's hope that those who took pictures and the video file complaints, post the photos, and send the photos and their observations to news outlets and civil-rights organizations so that the officers involved can be dealt with and disciplined for their excessive and improper behavior.

The Death of Gary Kaufman — Of Mouse and Man

I was resting in my apartment on a Saturday after having arrived back home from a horrible experience at a "rehab" center. Here's some background: Last Sunday, I had fractured a part of my femur very near the hip socket, had surgery to repair it Monday, and was discharged from the hospital on Thursday (I was treated, fed, and cared for quite well at the former Astoria General Hospital, now part of Mt. Sinai, Queens). So, I was away for six days, and my neighbor, Rich, took care of the cats. When I returned, I noticed a weird stench in the apartment, but couldn't quite identify it. It wasn't the cats, tho'.

I mentioned this to Rich, who was in my apartment helping me. He replied that he had noticed it too, and that it was especially strong right in the area of my front door, where there are two other apartment entrances. Immediately, I was struck dumb with the knowledge of what was coming from my neighbor's door, an apartment next to my bedroom: My neighbor was dead... and had been so for a while. I — and then my neighbors at the other end of the hall — called 911, and after a couple of hours the police came to check it out.

Not long into the New Year of 2015, that neighbor, Gary Kaufman, had called 911 with a health emergency, but EMS and police were unable to enter the apartment and Gary did not come to the door. The superintendent of our building didn't have copies of the keys and (with good reason) didn't think our management would appreciate the door being broken down. The super was asked to peek through an outside window of Gary's apartment off of the fire escape to observe if he was there. However, he could not see Gary in the apartment (or, rather, in the bedroom of his apartment), so the police and the EMS emergency medical technicians came to a decision to leave — which they may do at their discretion and which, I think, could be considered a reasonable action at that time.

Not long after that, I had my six days away as a result of my accident. During my time away however, Rich and I turned out to be not the only ones who noticed the stench that I observed on my return — a stench similar to the smell emanating from a dead mouse, a smell that I had experienced a few times not too long ago in my apartment (partly in thanks to my curious, playful, and rather deadly cats).

But this was no dead mouse, or pile of dead mice. On this second visit, the officer who rings my doorbell knows what several-day-old rotting human flesh smells like. Later, a Sargent arrived and asked if they could go through my bedroom window to enter the apartment from an outside window. This time, I quenched my fear of cats escaping (thankfully, both cats are still with me), and I allowed the super, the super-on-duty, the Sargent, and an officer to use my window to access the fire escape and enter Gary's apartment. A few minutes later, I received word that Gary was, indeed, very dead.

Rich and I later identified his face by a photo that the Coroner's Office crime-scene technician took; even though badly decomposed, I could identify enough of Gary's features to testify in writing that it was he. The Coroner's Office tech mentioned to me that Gary may have had a bad fall, and also mentioned that there was evidence of a table and other items having been broken as a result.

It's going to be a breezy night in my apartment. I have two windows wide open to clear the smell. I will have to keep them open until the security seals placed by NYPD are taken away and the windows next door can be opened to air out the place. Fortunately, the heat is going gangbusters, so I have heat at my feet in bed, and the riser in the bathroom plus the living room radiator will keep the rest of the apartment liveable. But the stench has thoroughly permeated much of the building's structure. In spite of fans, windows, and deodorant spray, it is still noticeable, and later in the year from time to time it will probably seep through the walls, especially on damp days. I hope it will remind tenants and visitors of both the folly and the triumph of human nature.

I very much wish I could have done more for Gary, but he was a very troubled survivor of 9/11, beyond my ability to comfort. I think the last time I talked with him he said he had cancer; if true, we still probably won't know if it at least had a direct physical/medical link to environmental conditions on 9/11. Although Issac, his brother, was unaware of any serious medical illness that Gary may have had, he confirmed that Gary did have a history of mental disorder and disease and mentioned that it existed in rather less severity before 9/11. Gary had already told me that he had been diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder, among other things.

But during the first police/EMT visit, mentioning these things probably didn't help get him aid. Management of my building was more interested in saving a door than in saving a life. I know from personal experience that the owner and the management of my building are more interested in appearances than fixing the hole in my bathroom ceiling, among many other defects in several tenants' apartments. Maybe it could be said that greed got the better of Gary Kaufman both in life and in death. After all, his company "outsourced" its internet technology jobs overseas, and this occurred during the economic depression of the early 2000s. For many years, these two things put Gary at a great disadvantage when trying to find work in his field.

But maybe Gary gets the "last word" after all — all of this does not keep him from being a hero. Please don't be turned off by my use of this word, "hero" — I assure you that I use it sincerely. The following was recalled to me by Issac, his brother, and paraphrased by me below, during what he thinks is the only time that Gary told the whole story of his experience on 9/11 to any friend or family member. I am very grateful to Issac for sharing it with me:

Gary noticed paper flying around outside his window at work on the 80^th floor. To him, it seemed to be more than one might expect of, let's say, a disgruntled coworker tossing stuff out a window (rather hard to do through those narrow WTC-tower windows). Not long after noticing that, he felt an impact and the swaying of the tower. He came down the stairs amid a toxic shower of sheet rock and other debris and met a coworker at the entrance to the building.

Gary's coworker at Morgan Stanley's offices in 2 World Trade Center — who also happens to be a neighbor of Issac and family on Staten Island — was going to go back into the South Tower of the World Trade Center after an "all clear" was sounded on the alarm system. Gary convinced his coworker not to do so, and the two of them started away, then quickly rushed away from the collapsing building. It turned out that the two of them were among the last few who made it out alive from the first tower to fall that day.

If not for Gary's prodding, there would have been one less survivor that horrible day.

On the anniversary of 9/11, we always remember those who died that day in 2001. Many of us who live in and around New York City know someone who died either in the event itself or later as a consequence of that tragedy. I add one more person to my list today — a short but now even more meaningful list.

Gary's action on that day was a seemingly simple and small, yet profound act of loving kindness that is well worth remembering. Maybe, just maybe, recounting it will make the existence that we inhabit in this life a little more tolerable. It could rend our hearts just enough to let the light of Grace enter in and enable us also to do good. I hope this is not the only reason that we remember a somewhat shy, very intelligent, and humble human being. I hope that his brother and relatives and friends will remember all of Gary. Personally, I will strive so to do. It's the right thing to do.

Although the coroner may do some additional investigation, his brother hopes that, in accordance with his family's orthodox Jewish tradition, Gary will be buried tomorrow, Sunday January 25, 2015. May he be remembered for a blessing. May memory of his acts rend our hearts to use our intelligence and enable us to be kind, loving, humble, and giving, buoyed by the boundless grace of The Eternal One.

Rest in peace, Gary Kaufman, where there is no sorrow nor pain — but life eternal.

A Potpourri of Song℠ — Mozart in the Middle

Here's a concert I'm presenting this Saturday afternoon as part of my A Potpourri of Song℠ concert series:

This Saturday, Trinity will be filled with the music of Mozart, surrounded by Bach and Schubert on one side and Gilbert & Sullivan and "Songs My Mother Loved and Sang" on the other. "Mozart in the Middle", with Soprano Paula Jean Rocheleau and Trinity member Mark Victor Smith on piano and organ, takes place Saturday October 4 at 4:00pm. Join the artists and each other for a "meet & greet" reception after the concert. The suggested donation is $15 (or as you are able).

Proceeds from this hour-long concert, part of Trinity's artistic outreach to our wider community, will benefit the piano fund and Trinity's general fund. Come and enjoy the music, enjoy the company of your neighbors, and then maybe visit a local restaurant or café nearby!

Contact me at potpourriofsong@verizon.net if you have any questions. Hope to see you at the concert!

Saving Net Neutrality, Economic Equality, and the Open Internet

To the Federal Communications Commission during this Open Comment period debating proposed rules regulating use of the Internet. Submitted on July 15, 2014.

I am a broadband user (3kbps DSL provided by Verizon) who believes strongly in the importance of a free and open Internet. As an ordinary citizen of very modest means who uses the internet every day for essential communications in my work, for access to the free press, for entertainment, and to keep in touch with acquaintances, friends, and family, I urge the FCC to reclassify broadband Internet access as a telecommunications service, thereby ensuring and supporting the concept of Net Neutrality.

The Internet is, by nature and by design, a public utility. When the Internet was opened up by the United States nearly forty years ago for public use, the expressed intent was to provide equal access to all. The development of new and increasingly less-expensive technologies to use this now essential part of our systems of communication, up to this point in time, has had a positive impact on every citizen of this country and, most notably, on billions of people on our planet. The Internet must be allowed to continue to be this beacon of light to all.

There are many examples of pubic services that through competent regulation by public service commissions provide equal access to the essential needs of our citizens. Among them are electric, water, and gas utilities — all of which are regulated so as to not discriminate against any one class of people, including discrimination by economic class. Telephone and cable services are also regulated by government in various degrees for exactly the same reason. The Internet must not be an exception to this model.

Most notably, government agencies like the State of Michigan, public schools, and state colleges and universities have a history of providing equal Internet access to all of its constituents — free of charge or at a fee affordable to all — further supporting the concept of government guarantee to open access to public services like those named above. FCC regulations must not interfere with state’s interests. Furthermore, a history of government support for fair and open access to the Internet also supports the concept that equal Internet access is a constitutional right for every person in this country.

The concept of "equal" may be debated; however, given the Internet’s history of original concept and intent, current regulatory protocols by various local governmental agencies, and the need for the ordinary user in this country to have timely access to a reasonable bandwidth (i.e., the current reliable service that I enjoy for $36.99/mo. plus tax), I submit that folks like me have as much of a right to immediate access to our email as a stock trader (virtual or human) has to immediately make split-second transactions. The FCC must reject proposed rules that would allow Internet service providers to divide the Internet into fast lanes for wealthy corporations and slow lanes for the rest of us. Those rules are simply unfair, unwise, morally wrong, and constitutionally unacceptable.

Do the right thing. Do not support the continuing division of this country into economic castes. Insure equal access to the Internet in the U.S. and, for that matter, for everyone on this planet. Keep the Internet free and open by declaring it a "Public Utility/Telecommunications Service" and by devising wise regulation that supports Net Neutrality.

Mark Victor Smith

Queens, NY

mv.smith@verizon.net

What’s in a [her-ricane’s] Name Anyway?

What’s in a [her-ricane’s] Name Anyway?

Apparently, we have yet another issue with female names. A study by social researchers from the University of Illinois and the University of Arizona compiled evidence showing that hurricanes with women’s names cause more deaths than do “male” hurricanes. Although the authors of the study do not consider their conclusions to be the final word — indeed, one of the researchers went out of her way in a BBC interview to invite others to follow up with their own studies — it might not be a bad idea to check our gender biases. How will we respond to “Hanna” if “she” hits us — or to “Gonazlo” if “he” makes landfall?

The list of named storms for 2014 include two which may be considered “gender-neutral”. Yet I wonder how one might compile a list of gender-neutral names for upcoming hurricane seasons. Take a look at the list below. Which of these names do you consider male, which do you consider female, and which do you consider gender-neutral?

Addison Adrian Ainsley Alex Alexis Angel Arden Ashley Aubrey Avery	Bailey Beverly Blair Brett	Cameron Casey Cassidy Chance Chase Cherokee Cody (Codi) Cory (Corey, Cori) Courtney	Dakota Dale Dana Darby Darcy Devin (Devon) Dominique Drew Dylan	Elliott Ellis Emerson (Emmerson) Emery Evelyn
Finley Fran	Gale Grayson (Greyson)	Hadley Harlow Harper Hayden Hayley Hillary Hollis Hunter	Iman	Jamie Jayden (Jaden, Jaiden) Jocelyn Jordan Joyce
Kai Keegan Kelly Kelsey Kendall Kennedy Kim Kimberly	Lee (Leigh) Leslie (Lesley) Lindsay (Lindsey) Logan London Luca Lynn (Lin)	Mackenzie Madison Marlowe Meredith Micah Morgan Murphy	Noel Noor	Parker Paris Peyton (Payton) Phoenix
Quinn	Reese Reilly (Riley) Remy River Robin Rory Rowan Ryan	Sage Sandy Sawyer Shannon Shelby Shirley Sheridan Shiloh Sidney (Sydney) Sky Skyler (Skylar) Stacy (Stacey)	Tamara Teagan (Taegan) Terry Taylor Tracy (Tracey)	Vivian Whitney

Click here to see where this list of names came from. You might be surprised.

A list is only as good as its creator, and what defines “gender-neutral” is unique within the mind of that creator . Maybe you can add or subtract names from the list above and come up with a list that is more universally gender neutral. Or... can you? There are other “gender-neutral” lists in different languages at the link above; do other languages have the same problems with gender and names as English does?

One reason given for naming tropical cyclones with human names is that the general public seems to react better to news, forecasts, and warnings of storms with these labels than to labels like “alpha” or “#1". (By the way, Greek letters are used when the National Hurricane Center runs out of proper names, like we did not too many years ago.) Because of this (proven?) benefit, we probably won’t discard the practice of using proper names for these storms.

One name not on the list above is “Sandy.” The international committee of the World Meteorological Organization permanently retired this name because of sensitivity to this named storm’s unique destructive power in 2012. (A record five Atlantic-hurricane names were retired in 2005, a season that included Katrina.) But although the cost of the physical damage Sandy wrought on us is many billions of dollars, relatively few deaths occurred. (Of course, only minutes before the center of Sandy crossed the shore of New Jersey, it was reclassified as a “post-tropical storm.” That’s little consolation to those who experienced it’s 100-mile per hour winds and 14-food storm surge — but great consolation to those who didn’t have hurricane insurance...!!)

Still, I wonder how many people thought that “Sandy” was a male name. It wasn’t. The lists produced by the committee alternate between male and female names, and the committee also alternates the gender of the first name on the list each year. Sandy’s spot on the 2012 list was a “male” spot.

Gender-neutral lists for the naming of tropical cyclones should be accepted as the protocol — sooner rather than later. It would at least remove one probable variable that affects public reaction to warnings and forecasts, it might save lives, and it will remove one more debate over gender equality.

“Bye, Bye, Miss American Pie...”

Today is the anniversary of when the music died. More than just a President died on this day, at this hour, fifty years ago.

President John F. Kennedy for many was special — an icon, an idol, seemingly worshiped like a god in published and broadcast media — even before he seemingly single-handedly averted nuclear destruction of living beings from this earth by successfully negotiating with Russia the removal of missiles from Cuba. He was portrayed in photos and written accounts as a loving father and as an engaging conversationalist with an easygoing personality.

This President’s death seemed to unleash an obsession for subculture exploration — a probing, searching, investigative, serious inquiry into the life behind a veneer — not just of a President, but of our very existence. We changed — big time.

John Kennedy’s secrets were laid bare to the public. Few knew of the serious pain that he experienced most days of his life, a result of the injuries he sustained when the patrol boat he commanded sank in World War II. We all came to know that he cheated on his wife. And some still debate the connections he might have had with organized-crime leaders.

His death ripped off the superficial cover that was what we still call “The American Dream”.

“Quest for Truth” was not a priority in American culture before November 22, 1963. It became so in the years after his death. Further on and to the present day, this probe has not always been good. Too often this quest has been twisted, morphed, and spun into a convoluted, exorbitant race for many to show proof that they showed the true path to “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness”.

But this quest also opened the world’s eyes to see the richness that lay beneath the superficial cover that existed before a beloved President’s death. Today, the wonderful mix that is American culture is well-established, and we are more aware and careful of how all of us humans relate to each other and to the globe on which we live. We are more wholesome souls, even though it took the death of one man to give us a better vision and more motivation to search for wholesomeness.

Of course, we could look at the death of one and ask why the deaths of many does not result in similar reactions. Yet events like the Holocaust of World War II didn’t have the intense focus that four days of non-stop broadcast of the mourning of a President’s death had. We don’t have a bugler’s emotional, quivering sound at a graveside to tug our heartstrings, even to this day, and spawn remembrances of fifty years ago — and also spawn analysis anew of what it meant and means to have something special wrenched from our grasp.

More than President Kennedy’s death is being considered today. We consider yet again who we are as humans, what we are doing to our existence, and why we haven’t yet learned how to live together in peace, relating in love to each other without hate or malice or prejudice.

The music isn’t dead. I know it isn’t; it lies there — new tunes of love and cooperation and inclusiveness and joy and, most importantly, hope. And I know that John F. Kennedy hears the music of a greater existence that we all will experience after this life. Knowing that is reason enough and motivation enough to keep searching for the notes and melodies that leave us with a renewed, rebuilt, restored world.

Thank you, Mr. President, for your service and your legacy.

(November 22, 2013 at 2:15pm EST)

The debt-limit crisis has come to this...

The President needs to go before the Supreme Court if the House of Representatives does not approve debt-limit-raising legislation approved by the Senate this week.

A petition would be presented by the President asking the Court: 1.) to declare the House dysfunctional and obstructive in a Declaration of Fact, 2.) order the House dissolved and special elections held within three months, 3.) give the Senate temporary (emergency) powers to initiate budget legislation and be the sole representative of the People until such time as the House can reconstitute itself through the aforementioned elections, and 4.) forbid any incumbent from running in these special elections.

In Amendment 10, the constitution allows that there are rights not enumerated in the other nine amendments that comprise the rest of the Bill of Rights — in this case, the right to have a functional government. Although seldom cited, between that amendment and the "Commerce clause", and maybe other sections of the Constitution, we can get a House that might actually do what they are elected to do — debate, compromise, and legislate.

Senate Republicans are giving the House too much power in negotiations, but at least everyone is talking... AND there have been versions of both funding and debt-limit-raising legislation which were sent to the House and ignored. Get rid of the House for a few months; replace everyone; after that, comes November 2014, when the Republican idiot fools in the House may very well receive their due.

Yes — it has come to this.  Another constitutional crisis, brought to you by the selfish, self-centered, self-absorbed members of the House that comprise the "Tea Party" branch of the Republican party, a dark comedic tragedy choreographed by Speaker John Boener. To these people, no one else matters.

Throw the bums out!