Sunday, August 1, 2021

The Best of '20

Since 2018, I have posted my likes among the photos I made during the previous year.  For 2020, the pickins' are slim; that was a year we stuck close to home, not rich in photo ops. So, few as they are, here are my 

Best of '20

The year seemed just to grind on --

Pulse, Tony Cragg, Mpls Inst. of Arts

In June we snuck away to a lake on San Juan Island. I watched an owl dive into the reeds, expecting her to come up with a duckling. No! Astonishing; she had a snake half again her height! She flew up into the fir right off our balcony where she sat gnawing on her lunch and eyeing me. The Athenians would have understood the good omen: their snake symbolized uncertainty, the boundary between one state and another, between life and death.  And here, Athena, goddess of wisdom in her manifestation of Owl, was defeating uncertain fate. It promised poorly for the virus, good for mankind (or, at least. for Athenians.)
  

Despite Covid, parents found ways to nurture their young.
Pa pileated and fledgling 

The sun rose each day, promising that we'd get through this -- 

-- especially if we stayed together.
September: day hike over Sourdough Gap into Rainier Nat'l Park


Monday, July 19, 2021

Wanted: an Angry, International, Teen-Age, Nuclear Activist

 Wanted: a Nuclear Greta Thunberg

Two potential disasters threaten the existence of mankind. One we can do nothing about; the other we can and must.

No, neither pandemic nor global warming threaten the existence of man. Global warming, already disrupting us, will cause more and more death and destruction but mankind will likely survive just as we survived the ice age 15,000 years ago.  Likewise, though immunologists warn us that pandemics will increase in frequency, big pharma (love’em or hate’m) has armed us with messenger RNA technology for fast development of vaccines. We will certainly suffer but survive future viral pandemics.

The two truly existential threats are a catastrophic asteroid collision and a nuclear Armageddon.  The first we can do nothing about (except nourish science fiction and our nightmares.)  The most recent close shave was with 2020QG on August 16th last year; we didn’t spot it until six hours after it had already cruised by! (Incidentally, 2021GW4, a 16-footer, small but still very dangerous, will swing by today, as I write this.)

The second existential threat, nuclear Armageddon, i.e., genetic mutation and nuclear winter, we can and must do something about. Must, because it's imminent and must, because we can. We have the knowledge; what is required is an aroused, worldwide public demand to delegitimize nuclear weapons.

Nuclear Armageddon is very real, very near, and increasingly likely. The Bulletin of Atomic Scientists’ metaphorical Doomsday Clock has been moved forward to 100 seconds before midnight -- mankind’s annihilation – the nearest in its 74-year history. (In 1991, the clock was re-set from seven to 17 minutes, its longest, reflecting the end of the cold war. Think of that: from 1,020 seconds to 100 over the past thirty years.)

So why isn’t the public aroused?  Because we’ve been living with the threat for 3/4ths of a century. Because it’s sober, serious greybeards who have been issuing the warnings: people like Sam Nunn and Ted Turner of NTI, Helen Caldicott of Physicians for Social Responsibility, Andrei Sakharov and Robert Oppenheimer, Sen. Merkle of the Arms Control Assoc., and so many others.  But as the history of global warming concern shows us, eminent and knowledgeable authorities are necessary but not sufficient.

Wallace Smith Broecker called out the connection between abrupt climate change and the Ocean Conveyor Belt half a century ago and sounded the alarm about greenhouse gasses before Congress in 1984. Astrid Caldas of the Union of Concerned Scientists, Peter Kalmus of NASA, and innumerable other scientists joined the call for action. Al Gore and his PowerPoint slides; Gaylord Nelson, Peter McClosky, and our own Denis Hayes (now of the Bullitt Foundation) with their Earth Day; and those worthies of the UN Climate Change conferences, Kyoto and the rest – all got nothing from political leaders other than lip service.  Until, that is, along comes a 14-yearold Swede with a raw, j’accuse attitude to point an angry finger at us, the older generations who created this threatening mess for her and her Gen Z compatriots.  Arouse them Greta Thunberg did!

The lesson is clear.  Politicians with their short-term next-election or vote-of-confidence horizons are not going to act until young people get mad. They, in turn, get their parents mad and irreversible public demand for action builds.  Witness: the Viet Nam war protests started with campus teach-ins. Witness the student lunch counter sit-ins and SNCC voter registration crusades. What followed was public support, demands for action, and change.

What we now need is a Nuclear Greta Thunberg to back up the scientists and prophets of nuclear Armageddon with angry pressure on politicians worldwide.

Take little solace from Biden and Putin having extended New-START by five years: that’s nothing but a band-aid. It’s time to rip off scabs. Triage and emergency treatments must begin on:

·       Biden’s endorsement of a $1 trillion program for “sustainment, replacement and upgrades” of our nuclear arsenal, which includes our antiquated (still necessary?), silo-bound ICBMs.

·       Iran’s continued enrichment of uranium to near weapons-grade levels.

·       China’s development of war-head-capable cruise missiles and – a recent development – construction of a field of 100 ICBM silos in the desert of China’s northwest province of Gansu.

·       Putin’s development of Burevestnik, a nuclear-powered, nuclear-armed, super-sonic cruise missile of indeterminate range.

·       Northrup Grumman’s Air Force contract for development of a replacement for the Minuteman ICBM.

·       Indian and Russian collaborative development of BrahMos, an air, ship, or land launched super-sonic cruise missile.

·       Pakistan’s and India’s continued build-up of warhead inventories and development of new delivery vehicles.

·       North Korea’s continued testing and development of warhead delivery systems, including submarine launched cruise missiles.

·       Saudi, Turkish, and Japanese internal pressures to become nuclear.

·       US development of the new Columbia class of nuclear submarine.

·       China’s construction of large aircraft carriers with nuclear-capable, carrier-based aircraft.

·       Russia’s and China’s testing of anti-satellite missiles.

·       Raytheon’s contract for development of the ALCM 1000, an air-launched cruise missile, and the Nat’l Nuclear Security Administration’s $11.2 b development of new warhead for it.

·       China’s and US’s weaponization of space initiatives, and planned heavy-lift establishment of moon bases.

·       US response to the Treaty on Prohibition of Nuclear Weapons which came into effect this past January 21st.

·       US, NATO, and Russian refusals to declare a no-first-use policy.

Aren’t Russia’s and our 4,000 warheads a bit much when 200 or fewer going off simultaneously are all it takes to trigger a nuclear winter???

 

WANTED

An Angry, International, Teen-aged, Nuclear Activist

Until she comes along, riles up Gen Zers around the world, and together they de-legitimize nuclear weapons, the minute hand of the Doomsday Clock will continue its creep toward midnight. 

Tuesday, June 29, 2021

Advice for People Contemplating Marriage

Advice for people contemplating marriage: encourage them to roadtest the relationship. Encourage them to do it before committing to marry. No, not that “it” – I’m talking about road-tripping, a long road-trip together.

Living together before marriage seems more rule than exception these days, quite out of the question in mine. Well, I approve. Living together is fine. It works to get to know one another: you come home, share your day, prepare dinner or go out to the pub with friends, go to bed, make love – that’s all well and good.  

But living together is insufficient.  Too many distractions -- work, friends, preparing meals and so on.  Road-tripping: now that is the real test. 

Being isolated together hours on end in a steel and glass capsule moving across spaces.  And when the capsule stops: you’re not with friends but dealing with strangers. 

On a road trip you learn about yourself -- if you can enjoy this person or are willing to tolerate him or her. You learn about planning and about flexibility when plans go awry. You learn about curiosity and impulsiveness. You learn about how you and your companion engage strangers. You learn about shared interests and about your tolerance for those interests not shared. 

I'm thinking about two road trips taken with wives, though neither was pre-marriage. The first with Barbara: 2,500 miles round-trip Minneapolis to New Orleans to celebrate her completion of nine weeks of drying out at St. Mary's. No need to go into details about the trip; suffice to say -- it was truly terrible -- punctuated with two threats to fly home! Had I not had overriding responsibilities and an endless capacity for rationalizing, I would have divorced 15 years sooner.  All the signs were there; time did not assuage them.

By contrast, the just completed road-trip with Ann was pure joy -- 19 days, 3,866 miles to Springdale, Utah to hike Zion, Kolob and Cedar Breaks; to Tropic for Bryce and Escalante's slot canyons on Willis Creek; to Torrey for Capitol Reef; to Moab for Canyonlands and Arches; to Vernal for the Dinosaur Monument; to Jackson Hole for the Tetons; through Yellowstone to Gardiner, Montana; off-highway to Wallace, Idaho and home. We have road-tripped often, in France, Italy, England, Norway, Scotland and here at home but this was our longest, likely our best.



We laughed a lot, bickered without wound or rancor, listened to news and music (Sirius XM a must). We read to each other and shared discoveries. We engaged strangers, we ate well and slept well.  Not a word in anger. And best of all, we enjoyed each other. 

Road surprises? At a roadside stop near Boulder, WY, a biker in his black leathers picking up his breakfast -- a fifth of Jack Daniels and a bag of Doritos. In Hanksville, UT, the Om-inspired wackiness of Carl's Garden of Critters -- only in America! Potato-king Simplot's phosphate mine tears apart the pristine high plateau of Utah's Unita Mountains. The cross-pocked backroads of beautiful, sad, broken Montana.  

Preston Trombly, host of Symphony Hall -- we've become fans and have talked subsequently. Shared driving -- we switched every 2 1/2 hours. Ann is a good driver, a much better driver than passenger. She's a terrible passenger. Subaru's GPS -- I finally learned how to use its 'nearby search' function having to look up Starbucks for Ann. 









Ann delivered master classes on engaging strangers: 
    
    the Nuremberger, where I spent five Februaries back in my toy fair days 

    ~ an affordable housing expert, now mayor of Moab

    ~ the principal of Torrey's elementary school who has to waitress for her family's upkeep (What have we come to? She should be the highest paid person in town.)

    ~ the cattleman entrepreneur creating jobs for his town where 80% of the high school graduating  classes leave and never return

    ~ the Korean psychiatrist and his retired VOA wife 

    ~ four Iraqi emigrant software engineers on a hiking jaunt between nights in Vegas before returning to Galveston, no doubt with tales to tell

Plus discoveries, as: Payday candy bars offer excellent nutritional balance, cost less and taste way better than those fancy REI energy bars, As: Subaru's Outback fully lives up to its advertised  willingness to go anywhere, no matter how rocky the road, with love.



Our trip confirmed how well-suited we are to one another. So, when the time comes, encourage your kids or grandkids to road-test, to take a long road trip before committing to marry. It just might reduce the odds of grief later on.                                          

Tuesday, April 20, 2021

Love in the Time of COVID*

Thank God for My Git-Up and Go Companion

I met Ann Janes in ’88, just about this time of year, when I told the Bellevue Rotary about the break-up of UAL. We married in fall of ’91; she has been my constant love and companion every day of those 30 years.

It has been her git up and go which has kept me moving despite bad knees, bad back, diverticulitis, A-fibbing, torn-up shoulder and what all.  My go would have been long gone but for her. Now, emerging from pandemic purgatory, hugging friends again and dining together in their homes and ours, I look back in wonder and gratitude for her energy and sense of now; we have survived this year together.

Westcott Bay, San Juan Isle.
June '20


Our year of The COVID started upon return from skiing in Ketchum and a quick trip to Minnesota.  Our first foray was a long-weekend on San Juan Island followed by another in Port Townsend. We hiked Rainier, returned to Ketchum in the fall, to The Methow for skiing this January, again to Ketchum in February, and to Rainier last weekend to say goodbye to snow.  Later this month, God willing, it’s to be a three-week road trip to Utah and Wyoming, then home via Montana and Idaho. We relish road-tripping – talking politics, pod-casting, bickering, laughing, wondering at the beauty of this land, and tucking in together at day’s end.

      Together: it's become my favorite word.

Rainier, April, '21

Sourdough Gap, Rainier, Sept.'20

 





Billy's Bridge, March,'21




* apology to Gabriel García Márquez.















Monday, April 19, 2021

Is Liberal Democracy Doomed?

Over the last two years, alarmist articles about the rise of autocracy have been regular features in Foreign Affairs, The Economist, major newspapers and books, Anne Applebaum’s Twilight of Democracy one of the latest. Earlier this month, an international affairs group to which I belong discussed the questions “Is liberal democracy in decline?” and ”To what degree should American foreign policy promote liberal democratic values?” In preparation for the discussion, I committed my thoughts to paper, in order to see if they made any sense.  Here is what I wrote:

Yes, liberal democracy is under threat.

But I am an optimist – albeit an anxious optimist; herein I argue that the threat is internal, temporal, and manageable.  I believe that liberal democracy has innate appeal and soon again will be on the upswing as autocracy and oligopoly show their innate weaknesses. My argument will be thought by some to be naïve and  idealistic; that I will be thought  insufficiently alarmed by the seductive appeal of simple, autocratic answers. But liberal democracy better fits basic human needs and desires than does any other form of government. Over time, it will prevail. Our present challenge is to strengthen confidence in it by reforms that demonstrate the superiority and responsiveness of our democratic republican system. Eleanor Roosevelt wrote in 1942: “If Democracy is to survive, it must be because it meets the needs of the people.”

First, what is a liberal democracy?

A liberal democracy is a country characterized: 

~ By citizens’ individual freedoms:

        to choose how and where to live,
        to aspire to whatever they fancy and are willing to strive for,
        to choose what to believe,
        to express themselves,
        to associate with others of their choosing, and
        to pursue their personal, emotional and material well-being.
        To have free and unfettered access to markets for their needs and wants. 
~ By citizens’ acknowledgment of their bonds with and responsibilities for fellow citizens, their
community, and their nation.
~ By a legislature representative of and selected by the citizenry in regularly scheduled elections, charged with promulgating laws and seeing that the costs of government are equitably shared among those receiving its services.
~ By rules and laws fairly and equally applied to all citizens and residents regardless of wealth, position, ethnicity or belief; citizens have access and freedom to appeal to courts for just and fair application of rules and laws.
~ By social mobility, a reflection of access to education and fairness of opportunity.
~ By protections of minority views from the dictates of a majority. By flourishing, multi-voiced,
independent journalism.
~ By a separation of powers -- judicial, legislative, domestic administrative and foreign relational -- under independent leadership with roles and limitations spelled out in charters, mission statements or constitutions so as to provide checks and balances on each other.

Anne Applebaum and Viktor Orban describe one-party governments with controlled legislatures and controlled “elections” (with pre-selected, loser opposition) as “Ill-liberal Democracies.” Such unitary states are in fact a mockery of democracy, most often a person rather than a party: United Russia is Putin; the CCP is Xi Jinping; Fidesz is Orban; the AK Parti is Erdogan. This model is how the Republicans decided to forego a platform in 2020 and crowned Trump to be the GOP. 

“Illiberal Democracy” does not exist.

It is an attempt to create something by labeling it when in fact an illiberal democracy is a nullity, a vacuum, an absence of the qualities of liberal democracy. In such governments, citizens are constrained from free expression and association by surveillance, intimidation, censorship and control of media; market access may be denied. 

In such governments, citizens’ communal responsibility is defined by the state, usually heavily weighted to subservience to the nation; 

~ a legislature is selected by a portion of the citizenry in controlled, pre-determined elections, which therefore represents only that portion of the citizenry, leaving others unrepresented; 

~ rules and laws are imposed unfairly and unevenly, with waivers and exemptions for privileged or favored classes;

~ legislative, judicial, administrative and diplomatic powers are concentrated in one person or a small cadre of people selected by the autocrat;  

~ lastly, in such governments, collective efficiency and effectiveness is valued above individual human needs.

What is the attraction of such governments?

Autocracies and oligarchies arise in response to fear, distress and distrust, confusion, and/or threat to material well-being and safety. They may be imposed by arms, as in Myanmar. Usually, however, the human need for assurance and confidence gives way to seeking out and granting power to an authority – an “I alone can solve it” -- be it a person or a guiding creed: what the leader says or imposes, what the book prescribes. (The book: the Bible, the Torah, the Quran, the Communist Manifesto, the tribal creation myth, whatever.) Currently, in these times of uncertainty and loss of confidence, of faltering progress in material well-being, of dramatic, uncontrollable change, the pendulum has swung people toward autocrats, oligarchies, creedal strictures. What they offer is an identity more than an ideology or platform.

Examples of countries without liberal democracy abound: China, Turkey, Iran, Venezuela, North Korea, Saudi Arabia, Myanmar, Russia, Tanzania, Egypt, India, Philippines, Pakistan, Ghana, etc., etc. Some of these are deeply, culturally-rooted paternalistic-autocratic systems as in China, Saudi Arabia or Russia.  Others result from opportunistic power grabs, as in Venezuela, Hungary, Iran or Tanzania. Most of the world lives under such governments; one or another autocracy or oligarchy will always be emergent. But despite that, and in the long-run, human nature and demographics are stacked against them.

Human nature and demographics are stacked against them

These autocrats, oligarchies, and creedal society structures necessarily need to constrain freedom of belief, freedom of choice; freedom to express oneself; freedom to associate with whom one wishes; and freedom to aspire and pursue personal, emotional and material well-being. Even in cultures that pressure individuals to subordinate themselves to the collective (e.g., Japan?) these human values persist and survive. Man, i.e., the human, is a communal animal who needs to express her personhood, to believe in something outside himself, to seek material and spiritual well-being for their families.  These personal needs are better facilitated by a Liberal Democratic form of governing their commonwealth than by any other system of governance. 

 As material well-being is assured and self-confidence grows, these needs and values will manifest themselves again. I am an anxious-optimist: the arc history is bent toward the values delivered by liberal democracy. Despite the current pendulum swing toward simple answers, toward repression and autocracy, the pendulum will swing back and ever more strongly toward these human desires for freedom to choose, to express oneself, to openly believe, to associate, and to aspire.  A pendulum swing toward liberal democratic values and aspirations is given a boost by education and exposure to the world through music, film, literature, the Internet and proliferating media; each swing toward liberal democracy will be stronger than before. No other form of government is so likely to match human values, to promise delivery of these benefits, as does liberal democracy.

Autocrats and the unjust have always stimulated resistance; inspiring, role-model resistors from the past: Gandhi, MLK, Mandela, Bonhoeffer, Havel, Walesa. And now the more the world is linked by media and the Internet, the more frequently new resistors will emerge: other Novalnys, other Chow Hang-tungs and Ai Weiweis, other Varadarajans, other Kashoggis (may he rest in peace), other Aung San Suu Kyis and Satsaksits.

Moreover, it is the young that embrace and risk resistance.  The world (China and Russia excepted) is growing younger.  Millennials make up 25% of Chinese; those digital-generation Gen-Z-ers, 15%.  Gen Z-ers are 23% of Poles, 25% of Burmese, 30% of Venezuelans, 39% of Turks, 54% of Saudis, 60% of Iranians. At 30% of Indians, they total 472 million young, digitally savvy, upwardly mobile, ever-better educated strivers who aspire to lives that characterize liberal democracies, whether they think in terms of “democracy” or not. Only so long as Modi can deliver material progress, education opportunities and freedom of choice to them can he forestall resistance; but he can never tolerate freedom of belief, association, and expression -- and these will erode his autocracy. 

Out of Gen Z, other Greta Thunbergs will emerge. Here is a link to Pew Research’s study of American Gen Z’ers; note especially their views on government, race equity, and participation: https://www.pewresearch.org/social-trends/2020/05/14/on-the-cusp-of-adulthood-and-facing-an-uncertain-future-what-we-know-about-gen-z-so-far-2/

They and millennials will, I believe, turn away from autocracy and oligarchy and seek the benefits of a liberal democratic republic, swinging the pendulum back toward liberal democratic values as the world emerges from the pandemic, engages and addresses climate change, and rebuilds confidence once again in an promising future.

What should we do now?

The first, necessary condition for liberal democracy is belief in it, i.e., confidence that it is fair, that one’s voice can be heard and one’s vote will count.

To promote and justify belief in liberal democracy, we need to:

~ Commit ourselves to reject the temptation of autocracy and simplistic answers.  Work at pragmatic, step-by-step improvements and solutions. Champion collaboration and dampen zero-sum    polarization. Restore legislative majority rule.

~ Focus on strengthening our liberal-democratic productivity and effectiveness, letting performance speak for itself. Focus on education, infrastructure, entrepreneurship, facilitation of middle-class prosperity and social mobility, and equitable and open elections. When collaboration is impossible, move forward.

~ Prosecute Trump, Giuliani, and Jan 6th insurrectionists; demonstrate to ourselves and the world what “rule of law” means.

~ Liberalize immigration and routes to citizenship to enhance our attractiveness.

~ Inculcate and embrace an over-arching, shared identity that spans but does not invalidate individual identities of race, ethnicity, and gender. Celebrate our diversity. Establish a shared identity of opportunity – for anyone and everyone to express themselves and work toward realization of their aspirations.

~ Partner with other democratic states to address international issues of global warming, migration, pandemic response, and space exploration. Avoid presuming to claim “leadership of the free world”; humility with strength should be our posture.

~ Voice disapproval of civil right abuses such as Indian, Chinese, Thai and Burmese treatment of their Muslim minorities; of Russian and Chinese aggression against neighbors. Tie such concerns to       absence of invitations to partner or participate.

~ Do not initiate outreach to autocratic states (except for arms control); let them seek access to our markets and inclusion in collaborations. Refrain from imposing penalties and sanctions on undemocratic states but enact constraints and impose costs on US businesses and citizens that partner or trade with un-favored nations.

~ Give succor to the world when we can; diminish military aid.

Walt Kelly: “We have met the enemy – and it’s us.”

The threat to liberal democracy is not external but internal.  We are the threat: our lack of confidence; our acceptance of stalled material progress and insecurity; our acceptance of lagging education; our apathy about 10% of us lacking access to health care, about injustice, about inequity and inequality; our indulgence of prejudice and discrimination; our tolerance of and easy access to weapons with which to menace fellow citizens. And most important, our lack of a shared identity as Americans.

That other nations turn to autocracy is regrettable but not in itself a threat. We should remain vigilant and strong so that autocratic states cannot blackmail us either militarily or economically.  But our prime focus should be internal: to strengthen and deliver our liberal democracy’s benefits to all US citizens and to let our example speak to the world.


Surprisingly, most of the discussants, while very concerned about the immediate challenges, were also optimistic for the long run so long as reform was undertaken to strengthen democratic participation and inequities addressed.  But that's a tall order.

  

Saturday, March 6, 2021

Report from Idaho


Ann and I had to get away from soggy Seattle; I was beginning to sprout moss on my north side.  Since Dec 1st, we had suffered through over 18 inches of rain and a nine-inch snowfall and couldn’t remember the name of that hazy light that appears in the southeastern sky. A long weekend of X-country skate skiing in January, in the Methow, confirmed that our creaky legs still worked, though I discovered that while the legs worked, I had only one ski boot -- what the hell!?  I searched high and low, compulsively looking in the same places time after time (expecting a different outcome, the definition of delusional?) I must have left a boot car-side when packing up in Ketchum, February of last year: had to rent.

Anyway, the rugged beauty of Ketchum called us again.  Tough year to find a condo, with everyone who normally flies off to ski Europe or Canada staying Stateside. We left Feb 22nd in rain, not your typical Seattle sprinkle but true rain.  All the passes through the surrounding Cascades were closed for avalanche control, meaning we had to drive south on the coastal plain to Portland, then southeast through Oregon to southern Idaho. How it rained! The Columbia Gorge was moodily beautiful with waterfalls cascading down all along the river; the Blue Mountains wreathed in fog. The next day, after a night at the restoration money-pit of the Geiser Grand in Oregon Trail-Baker City, we broke into sunshine. So welcome.


The weird Elkhorn condo worked.  Over-stuffed with hand-me-down furnishings from the ‘30’s and 40’s, It felt more like a Grandmother’s home in Rye than a western, outdoor-oriented vacation refuge. We made it work by banishing to the utility room extraneous, hand-me-down tables, hassocks, embroidered cushions and the like; hiding away a horrid, life-sized, fuzzy dog; and re-arranging furniture, swapping out lights from unused guest room and so on. We made it work for reading or backgammon battles and listening to Spotify in front of a great fireplace and for super dinners Ann prepared in the fully equipped kitchen and served in the spacious dining room.  A dining room! Whoever heard of a real dining room in a holiday condo?  What made it all the more weird were incongruous, expensive, 21stC surrealist paintings on the walls overlooking the tacky furnishings, and 19thC table-top Western-themed bronzes, also expensive, scattered about.

Ketchum felt safe: near everyone was masked.  We didn’t gallery hop as we normally do, nor dine out except for apres-ski lunches at Galena, nor prowl the consignment shops where hedge fund wives drop this season’s ruck to make room for new next season. Afterwards, Ann usually took her 4 ½ mile walks around Elkhorn, luxuriating in the ever-changing light and views. We simply like being there.

Ketchum and Sun Valley Village

Ski conditions were ideal: fresh snow sprinkles on the trails, daily grooming, no wind, cloudless skies, trails uncrowded. A couple of days, when my a-fib acted up, Ann skied alone while I retreated to the car.  We snowshoed two days at Billy’s bridge – stunningly beautiful at 7,000’ along glacial moraines beneath the craggy Boulder Mtns.

At Billy's Bridge, going north to Prairie Creek

After eight days, headed north toward home and into a very different Idaho.  Ketchum is a liberal island in a sea of maskless COVID-scoffers, their beautiful countryside dotted with Trump signs. Over 8,700’ Galena Pass one enters the Salmon Valley set aside by Frank Church, Idaho’s last liberal Senator, as the River of No Return Wilderness area. We had gone this way last September and wanted to see the Sawtooths again in winter. Breathtaking beauty in both seasons. From Stanley, headed into the basalt breaks country of deep canyons, rushing streams, lava dikes, columnar basalt cliffs, and huge glacial erratics. 25mph limits in towns, population 317. Blackened slopes from last fall’s wildfires scarred the land. Saw lots of deer and elk west of Lowman along the Payette. Ann had studied up on the upthrust and eroded lava lakes through which we were passing by watching Nick on the Rocks, a delightfully entertaining lecture linked here.

Sawtooths west of Stanley
Blackened trees from last fall's fires 

North of White Bird, we climbed out of the Salmon drainage complex that separates southern from northern Idaho and up onto the deep loess farmlands of the plateau.  Here were golden stubble fields, contoured to follow the rolling land, bisected with bright bands of green winter wheat sprouts.  Stunning.  Ann with her new painterly eye was awed by the colors and shapes. All dotted with tiny towns bedecked with churches, American flags, Trump signs and empty centers.

Up along the Lewis and Clark Trail to the twin cities of Lewiston, ID/Clarkston, WA where the Clearwater meets the Snake.  We stayed overnight in the larger Lewiston. Dinner out for the first time since early last year. First choice: Zany’s, a mid-range place reputed for a wide variety of good chow.  OMG! A masked young greeter took us to a table amidst diners packed shoulder to shoulder with nary a mask in sight.  All clamoring away to be heard over the TVs; if one could have seen the aerosols carrying their little viri, it would have looked as thick as the steam pouring forth from the smelly paper and pulp mills down riverside. We fled.  

Next stop: Ernie’s Steakhouse.  Good red meat and wine, but here a capacity unmasked crowd (the waiter admitted he wore a mask everywhere else but here because the clientele would find it off-putting) were at least seated with space between booths and tables.  Emboldened by our 2nd Moderna, we acceded and enjoyed a good meal. Our lively conversation, settling arguments about whether this was central or northern Idaho by showing each other Google maps, drinking wine and mentally replicating the NYT mini-crossword attracted another table’s attention; as she left, the young woman stopped to interrupt us and pronounce “you two are adorable!” How about that for a night-cap?



Gregarious, outdoorsy, gun-toting, welcoming, over-churched, white-supremacist, stunning, well-militiaed, clear-skied, COVID-scoffing, flag-waving, Trumpian Idaho: 

what’s not to love and to deplore all at once?

 

 

PS: as we crossed the Cascades from eastern Washington, it clouded over; as we drove onto our island, it started to rain.  Welcome home. 

Monday, January 25, 2021

Thursday, Jan 7th, I was scheduled to speak at the Olympic Club.  I had been working on a blog essay on Political Violence and Recoveries, from which I planned to excerpt an eight-minute talk about the caning of Sen. Sumner, but after the shocking January 6th insurrection, I shied away and sought something soothing, apolitical, something escapist. I turned to my coin collecting; over the years, my coin collections often had provided me an escape from harsh realities (just as had his stamp collection for FDR?)  I  took out a pad and began listing my recollections, from ELHEDO Lodge to Steven's birth to a courthouse in Reno to Soviet Moscow to the purchase of Ann’s business, quickly generating enough material for an entertaining half hour! The hurried eight-minute excerpt was not very satisfying. So, here in a more-than-eight-minute essay version is

Coin-heads, Coin Tales, and a Bad Penny 


When did I became a coin-head? It must have been the summer of 1943 or ’44, age eight or nine, at ELHEDO Lodge, my Grandparents’ picnic grounds on Lake Moraine in upstate New York. The older three of we seven cousins (I just made the cut) collected entrance fees of fifty cents per car. A driver handed me a Columbian Exposition commemorative half-dollar, dated 1893; I'd never seen such a coin. Grandma allowed me to keep it. 

Or perhaps it was when I got an Indian head penny in change, around 1946 or so; Mom gave me a Whitman Penny date folder and I was hooked. 

Why do we collect coins? There are coin-heads even older than I. The old Romans collected coins -- of Greece, Corinth, Lydia. Why? Because coins have value, have history, and have artistry. One can't ignore a coin. Maybe, as I, you even reflexively stoop to pick up a penny. No? Certainly a dime. 

The earliest  metallic coinage system was Lydian, around 650 BCE. Their coins were of electrum, a naturally occurring amalgam of silver and gold that was the basis of Croesus’ fabled riches. 


Ancient coins show us a societies’ values, what gods or rulers mattered to them, even what their rulers looked like. We would not know how ugly Leopold of Hapsburg was were it not for the need for his coins to have authenticity if Austrians and their trading partners were to trust the coinage. Leopold’s portrait painters flattered him  and minimized his “hogmouth.” But not his coin designers. 

Pedestrian, cluttered coin designs are the norm, but there are beautiful coins, too. Among universally admired are the Greek Tetradrachms. Here is Athena, (about 440BCE) Goddess of strategy and wisdom, she in her war helmet as guardian of Athens and in her manifestation as the Owl of Wisdom. As such, she even made it into Winnie the Pooh.
I admire even more this Carthaginian Drachma (330BCE) featuring their goddess of the seas, Tanit, surrounded by her dolphins, wearing pearls, her hair more like seaweed than curly locks. The reverse features the Arabian stallion on which the Carthaginians conquered  northern Africa.



Favorite American coin? Most people choose the $20 gold piece sculpted by St. Gaudens.  But I prefer the more elegant Buffalo Nickels (1913- '38) designed by James Earl Fraser. The nickel unintentionally but cynically “honors” a culture we tried so hard to exterminate while stealing their lands and driving the buffalo to near extinction. It is undeniably beautiful, preaching simply Liberty and E Pluribus Unum (further cynicism?) without the sanctimonious In God We Trust.

So I am a coin-head. In high school, I did a semester-long research project on the founding of the US mint. Paper currency was distrusted and coins were scarce; we used the Spanish “dollar”, the 8-Reales, as legal tender (and still legal tender as late as 1858.) People literally split it into eight “bits” for small change (hence our “2 bits” or 25₵.) Issuing our own coins was essential to our commerce and esteem among nations. Both Jefferson and Hamilton gave it top priority; Washington promised action in his first State of the Union report to Congress in 1790; informally he promised that US coinage would be underway by the end of his first term, fall of 1792. In April of ’92 the Coinage Act was passed. The mint building was competed and equipment installed, but what about the copper or silver? A $10,000 bond was required to get underway and Congress was dragging its feet on appropriation to buy sheet copper. Hamilton, Jefferson and the President wanted something more impressive than just copper cents and half cents. A coin of silver! It would not only impress but also produce a profit: seigniorage it’s called, the difference between the cost of making a coin and its face value, and seigniorage is kept by the mint. (Yes, mints make money making money; the US mint generated a $318mm profit in 2019.)

It’s probably an apocryphal story, but a charming one: Martha and George sent over to the mint one of the many silver tea sets admirers had showered on them.  The silver melted down and minted gave Washington silver half-dismes (pronounced deems) to show, the first coinage of the USA. Newly minted half-dismes were handed out personally by Jefferson to his Republican admirers, by Hamilton to his Federalists, and by President Washington to friends and Senators; the bulk were released into circulation. So if a collector has one, as I did – read on – he may have had a coin that once lay in the palm of one of those three seminal Americans.  A mint condition 1792 Half-disme once owned by first Dir. of the Mint, David Rittenhouse, sold at auction in 2018 for $1,985,000.  Not bad for a 5 piece.

What determines collector coin value? Demand, i.e., how many collectors lust after it; rarity, i.e., how many were minted and how many survive; and condition, i.e., is it badly mangled, just worn away, nearly new, or bright as a penny just out of the mint? The price difference between a worn, circulated example and one in mint-condition can be tenfold.         

There are any number of ways a collection can be organized; most common for kids are date and mint sets of a particular design, like my Lincoln Head pennies. My 1909 – 1960 Lincoln date and mint set was complete, in part by having spent one whole Saturday with a friend, son of the President of a small, Maryland bank, going through sacks and sacks of pennies, every penny in that bank. We found several we needed and upgraded worn examples we had, thrilled when we discovered a penny worth $2 or $3 or so. I sold that Lincoln set in 1961 to help pay for birth of our second child, Steve.  It brought $360; it would sell today for about $2,700.

A second sort of collection, the Type Set, contains one example of each design of coin. I set out to build a type set of US copper, silver and base metal coins (no gold.) Before 1999, when the mint went wild honoring states and national parks on the reverses of quarters, new ones every three months, a complete type set would be around 80 coins depending how one defines a distinct type. By the late 1980s, I had acquired 71 of them, including #1, my prize, an extremely fine example of that 1792 Half-disme.  I didn’t complete the set because it would have taken more than $240,000 to do so back then (I had three kids, a large mortgage and college expenses coming; later, divorce intervened.)   



This is the mint-perfect Rittenhouse specimen that sold for near $2mm two years ago. Its hurried design was derided: Ms. Liberty looks a fright and the eagle more like a chicken.  But note its serious motto.  LIB. PAR. OF SCIENCE & INDUSTRY: liberty, parent of science and industry. These were the values our secular, founding-father-Humanists held dear.  

My example, far less valuable of course, still accounted for more than 50% of the proceeds when in 2000 I sold the collection to help Ann buy a retiring Dean Witter broker's business. 

On the other side of the counter: I ventured into serious collecting under the tutelage of two remarkable numismatists, David Bowers and James Ruddy. In 1972, as Director of the US side of General Mills' Craft, Game & Toy Div., I explored and then engineered the extension of our hobby interests into collectables. The coin and stamp businesses were predominately single-proprietorships, former hobbyists who found they could make a living buying and selling. Among the few exceptions we found a mass market stamp, album and accessories firm and a unique coin dealership, Bowers and Ruddy Galleries.  Dave Bowers and Jim Ruddy had become industry leaders by developing widely-adopted standards of grading, creating a high-speed process for accurately photographing and enlarging illustrations of coins, publishing high-quality, quarterly mail order catalogs that were almost textbooks on numismatics, and by earning an impeccable reputation for integrity. 

The Redfield Hoard: In 1974, rumors swirled through the gossipy coin dealer world that a hoard of rare silver dollars had come to light, sort of, and that a sharp Hollywood dealer had connived to get a hold on the secret hoard. In Reno, a local eccentric, LaVere Redfield, had died. Belying his looks -- unshaven, always in jeans and old flannel shirts, always driving a beat up Chevy truck -- he was a shrewd real estate investor in Nevada farm land and a high-roller at the local casinos. Redfield distrusted both government (he had served time for tax evasion in the '50s) and banks. He converted his real estate profits into silver dollars, common currency in Reno because of the casinos, and took his gambling winnings in silver dollars. Bank bags of silver dollars held 1,000 and weighed over 60 pounds.  Redfield  would truck them home and slide them down a coal chute into a coal bin which he walled off inside the basement.  When his heirs broke into the old coal bin they found over 400 bags of silver dollars with instructions: don't tell the IRS about these coins! In all, of the 407,600 silver dollars, more than half were alleged to be uncirculated.

The dealer, Steve Markoff, had convinced the probate court that the hoard would break the market if it were known what numbers, dates, mint marks and condition it held. He petitioned the court to allow the estate to make a private deal under a provision of Nevada law that allowed quick sale of an estate's perishable commodity, like a load of tomatoes or something, avoiding probate delays. Markoff had apparently struck a deal with the estate at around $3mm, grossly undervaluing the hoard. Other dealers protested and the court ordered that an auction be held. But the court played Solomon and cut the baby in half: bidders were told how many coins and of what designs were in the hoard, but not what dates, mints, and conditions. Would-be purchasers, except fpr Markoff, would be bidding nearly blind. 

From the sheer volume and what the trade knew of Markoff's search for capital, they surmised that to bid would take more capital than these sole proprietors could muster; they turned to Bowers and Ruddy because they assumed, correctly, that we had access to the deep pockets of General Mills.  After much hemming and hawing, for coin hoards were certainly different from gunning Cheerios, I wangled authorization for up to $7mm to be gambled on purchasing the hoard. An armed bank dick accompanied the certified check, and me, to the Reno court house.  Only Markoff and we; the bidding rose to $7mm; I went to $7.2; Markoff got it for $7.3mm.  He parceled it out over the next two years through a number of sub-dealers, not including us, of course.  In the meantime, Jim and David were framed as pirates, GMI as an interloper to the tight little clique of coin dealer entrepreneurs. We estimate that over two years the hoard generated more than $13mm in sales, setting up Markoff with a capital nut to eventually enter the film world and become a would-be mover shaker in Hollywood. Jim took his fall from grace particularly hard; for David, the numismatic scholar, it was a bruise soon healed. For me, General Mills soon offed me into a new role. 

The bad penny turns up again: two years later, Markoff  had the chutzpah to sue Jim, David, General Mills and me for $10mm for business interference!  Imagine: we had increased the value of the estate to its heirs (and to the Nevada IRS) by some $4mm! We should have been lauded, not sued.  Anyway, the case was thrown out of court, but only after nasty depositions about who had leaked Markoff''s insider deal.

I was looking forward to the 1980 Moscow Summer Olympic Games especially since Wheaties always featured an American gold medalist. But little did I know what I was in for. In January of '77, David called.  He had received an invitation, almost a summons, to appear two weeks hence in Moscow at the Vneshtorgbank, the Soviet Bank of Foreign Commerce, to present proposals for marketing and distributing in the West the commemorative Russian Olympic coins. Commemorative Coins are a big deal to Olympic organizers, a major source of incremental earnings. And Moscow needed earnings. What should we do asked David; who should I talk to? I huddled with my old mates and we decided that David, a GMI lawyer (another David), and I, since I knew more about coin collecting and marketing than most in Minneapolis and had gotten GMI into this strange coin dealer world, should head off to Moscow and see what was up.  After a scramble in Washington to get visas, after long flights, I found myself walking at midnight in Red Square in a light, February snow fall.  Magical: could Eleanor Waller ever have imagined her son could be here? 

The next day we presented ourselves and closeted with three officials, one the young program manager who spoke good English, the second his boss who had some English, and the third an associate who neither spoke nor understood English and who sat silently at a desk in the corner. It became evident that they were not interested in our advice; the coin denominations and metals were set, the prices were set, the sales goals by country were set.  The only things they wanted to know was how much we'd pay for the contract and what quantities of sets should be packed in each shipping crate -- 24, 36, 48 or what? We went to lunch. Neither David drank so I said I'd handle the toasts and they'd stay sober for the afternoon.  The vodka appeared, the toast proposed, and I manfully tossed off my tumbler of vodka; then became aware that the ten officials hosting us had taken but tiny sips of their glasses. Ah, so. I did not get too soused for the afternoon discussion in which we asked lots of questions about production, packaging, design and so on.  Back at the hotel and over dinner that evening we agreed that this was not for us.  But having come this far and feeling responsible to the hobby and to Soviet/US relations, we decided to give them our best advice. We worked until 3am on our presentation of what we thought a Russian Olympic Commemorative Coin program should be.

The next morning, I explained that we felt we were not the right partner, but we would give them our best assessment of  the market and our best advice.  They politely listened.  We started with product: their plan was to make the largest value coin, the lead item, out of platinum.  David advised against it.  Platinum coins are grayish and collectors less interested in them, preferring gold and silver.  We also suggested a different make-up of sets. The program manager became agitated; his boss seemed to enjoy his discomfort. Next we turned to sales goals, which we felt were way overly ambitious in light of their intention to limit sales and distribution to foreign markets and to deprive Soviet citizens the right to buy the commemorative sets. The program manager protested that North American markets had been very strong for coins of the '76 Montreal games. I responded by pointing out the strength of Canadian sales, i.e., the home market. The Treasury in Ottawa had just released their final report on the Montreal coin program, a report replete with data on sets and individual sales, sales by market, and so on. I reached into my brief case and withdrew the report while asking had they yet seen the report.  Yes, yes the increasingly agitated program manager answered. I'd be happy to leave this with you I said; no, no -- we have it said the program manager, whose brow shone with perspiration.  I started to put it away when the silent third man wheeled his desk chair into the middle of the room, stretched out his hand, and said "I'd like to have that report, please." 

The meeting ended soon after and we took our leave, wondering what damage we had done to the career of that earnest though wishful program manager. The Davids headed home. I took advantage of being in Russia and arranged for a long weekend in Leningrad. That, too, delivered a set of memorable  adventures -- but for another time. My souvenir sample Olympic coin our bank hosts gave each of us was confiscated by Russian Immigration when the night train to Helsinki stopped at the Finnish border.  The officer duly gave me a receipt -- in Russian of course. (Night Train to Helsinki-- that might make a good title for another post about wandering alone one February in Leningrad.) 

The point is . . .
. . . these adventures came my way because I had been a coin-head since childhood and probably always will be -- at least until I get hit by a bus someday, bending over in the street to pick up a penny.

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