Before the (Trump) parade passes by

February 8, 2018

The topsy-turvy financial and political events of the past two weeks have demonstrated the irrationality of our thinking at a time when clear thinking is what is most needed.

We rail against greedy Wall Street’s effect on Main Street as the DOW bounces around like a knuckleball without realizing that the two intersect. Yes, Main Street has traditionally supplied the workers for the companies traded on the Stock Exchanges – workers who’ve often been given the shaft by those companies, which are seeking greater profits and higher dividends for their shareholders. ...

The Eagles have landed

February 6, 2018

Was that a great Super Bowl game or what? It had everything – an underdog (the victorious Philadelphia Eagles), a villain (the New England Patriots and Mr. “I’m Tom Brady and you’re not”), seesaw drama, frustrated placekickers, sleight-of-hand plays in the end zone and a modest hero (Eagles quarterback Nick Foles, the un-Brady). It was a most satisfying night, one that proved, as my beloved Aunt Mary always said, that if something is meant for you, it will be there for you – even if you’re an improbable second-string QB like Foles ...

Of two worlds, belonging to neither

April 15, 2017

Often in life you do something without realizing until later what it meant. When I wrote “The Penalty for Holding” (May 10, Less Than Three Press) – the second novel in my series “The Games Men Play” – I had several goals in mind. Sexy male-male romance? Check. A story that continued the series’ themes of power, dominance and rivalry? Check. A novel about leadership, the workplace and how violence in the workplace spills into everyday life? Check, check and check.

What I hadn’t counted on – what I hadn’t foreseen – was the return of isolationism that ushered in Brexit and Trump and that provides the context for the novel’s theme of belonging. And belonging is one of the great themes of our time. Who are we and where do we belong? For the answer to the first will determine the second. Or at least it should. ...

Of inflation – over and under – in the NFL

January 22, 2015

Well, it looks like we’re all set for a Super Duper Bowl between the deflated (literally) New England Patriots and the inflated (metaphorically) Seattle Seahawks.

First, the crafty – or should that be Kraft-y, after their owner Robert Kraft? – Pats, are apparently up to their old tricks, using deflated footballs in their blowout A.F. C. Championship win against the hapless Indianapolis Colts, who, let’s face it, don’t require cheating.

It was in 2007, that the Patriots – led by head coach Bill Belichick, alias the Emperor from “Star Wars,” it’s the hoodie – and quarterback Tom Brady, aka Darth Vader, were caught spying on, yes, the hapless New York Jets in an incident that has become known as Spygate. Nothing like stacking the deck. So they’re always suspect.

But wait, the NFL – which is so anal-retentive that it cares about Colin Kaepernick wearing his outlaw Beats headset on the podium – allows each team to play with its own footballs? Everybody gets to play with his own toys in the sandbox?

Speaking of kindergarten, we’ve learned that Aaron Rodgers likes to overinflate his balls, so to speak...

New Year’s wisdom from RFK – and ‘the awful grace of God’

December 31, 2014

Spent a magical few days with my family – always too short of a good time – in suburban D.C. for Christmas and had the pleasure and privilege of visiting Arlington National Cemetery.

I hadn’t been there since I was a girl but as with anything that is ingrained, I found it washing over me, moving me as it did in the old days – the rows of crystalline marble headstones; the deep-veined names etched on them; the commanding views of the city that crown the serpentine climb to the Federal-style Arlington House, a.k.a. The Robert E. Lee Memorial, once the home of the gallant Confederate general and President George Washington’s descendants.

As I made the climb, I was struck by the grave markers, some containing a brief record of the departed’s military and civilian achievements, others containing nothing but a last name, the bearer’s deeds lost in time.

Along the way, I paused at the eternal flame that lights the graves of President John F. Kennedy and his wife, Jacqueline Bouvier Kennedy Onassis, flanked by the graves of their first and last children, an unnamed baby daughter and son Patrick.

On the path to the left are the graves of JFK brothers Joseph P. Kennedy Jr., a World War II bomber pilot, and Sen. Edward Moore Kennedy, marked by simple white crosses – as is perhaps the most moving of the brothers’ graves, that of Sen. Robert F. Kennedy.

His faces a low gray wall that contains some of the words he spoke extemporaneously in Indianapolis the night of April 4, 1968 amid his presidential bid after he learned the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. had been assassinated. Kennedy had been cautioned by police and aides against addressing those who had gathered, many of whom would be hearing about King’s death for the first time. But he decided to persevere, in one of the great, from-the-heart speeches – acknowledging the black crowd’s understandable anger toward King’s white assassin, James Earl Ray, and his own toward his brother John’s assassin, Lee Harvey Oswald.

That was vintage Bobby, and the reason you either loved or hated him but couldn’t sit on the sidelines and be dispassionate. He wasn’t afraid of raw emotions, afraid to say what everyone was thinking.

Nor did he deem it imprudent to quote Aeschylus to the throng. The ancient Greek poet-playwright of “The Oresteia” – recommended by his bookish sister-in-law, Jackie – became a favorite in the aftermath of JFK’s assassination. ...

What does a writer owe her public?

April 21, 2014

Recently, I had a disturbing conversation with a relative that made me stop and think about what I’m doing as a novelist.

He told me that members of our extended family were disappointed – that may be too mild a word – with me for writing “Water Music,” a homoerotic novel, which he says reflects badly on him. He refuses to read the book.

He suggested that those who have read and liked it were misguided in their kindness toward me and, far worse, that the late aunt who raised me – and whom I knew better than all the world – would’ve disapproved.

I was demoralized, furious and amused in that order – amused because I realized how much of him I had poured into all the disapproving daddies that my gay heroes face in “Water Music.” So I’ve had my revenge before he ever uttered a word.

Nor did his critique sway me to his viewpoint despite my initial deflation and anger. I continue to believe with the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. that injustice somewhere is injustice everywhere. I cannot oppose gay marriage – as my relative does – because I believe such opposition is a form of discrimination. And as Pope Francis recently remarked about gayness, “Who I am to judge?” – words this relative would do well to consider.