Our Cuban Missile Crisis?

Greetings Friends,

The impression I would get of the image above, if it were not of North Korean supreme leader Kim Jong Un, would be of a young Asian guy who is most likely a college student, or a geek who sits in his bedroom in mommy and daddy's house coding Web sites 24/7. The cherubic face and affable expression belie the fact that this kid thinks he's going to initiate a nuclear holocaust and incinerate most of Asia and "strategic targets" in the United States. Oh really? Has anyone told him it's not wise to play a game of "chicken" if you don't have the goods to back it up?

Unfortunately, Kim, who is rumored to be about 29, doesn't remember what it was like to live through the Cuban Missile Crisis in October 1962, if he is even aware of the historic significance of that event. Nor does he have any recollection of the Korean War, even though he is the grandson of Kim Il-sung. No one is really sure what exactly Kim is aware of, but if he considers Dennis Rodman a friend, it can't be much.

The reason I bring up the Cuban Missile Crisis is because that is the closest we've ever come to nuclear war. After the Bay of Pigs invasion failed to remove Fidel Castro from power in Cuba, Castro got on his sassy horse and gave Soviet leader Nikita Krushchev a few empty spots in which to park some nuclear missiles aimed at the United States. This action resulted in a very tense two weeks for Americans.

As anyone who lived through the cold war remembers, the Soviet Union was truly a force to be reckoned with. North Korea, however, we're not so sure about. At this point, we're not clearing out the old bomb shelters or dusting off the post 9/11 gas masks and duct tape, but we should be concerned. The so-called "hermit kingdom" of North Korea is more like a shy wallflower at the senior prom, despite all the bombastic rhetoric that's been spewing forth lately. Reports of legitimate firepower, juxtaposed with reports of rampant malnutrition among its people, make North Korea a nation to be pitied, rather than feared. The same might have been true of the Soviet Union, but it was a different time, and the United States was a very different place.

I get the feeling that the powers that be in Washington are laughing at Kim, rather than looking for a way to shut him up. We know our military might is legitimate, but we also have a dangerous amount of hubris to go with it. It took decades to achieve detente with the Soviets, because we knew what they were capable of. Now, however, it seems that all the years, lives, and money sacrificed trying to bring democracy to Iraq and Afghanistan hasn't taught us much. We still think we're capable of firepower and diplomacy, even though neither has worked very well in the recent past.

What should be done about Kim and his threats of annihilation? Well, if the United States was able to hunt down and kill Osama bin Laden for his acts of terrorism against us, maybe Kim deserves the same fate. It's been my own personal experience that when dealing with people who are a few cans short of a six-pack, swift, decisive action is the only way to shut them up. Reason; diplomacy; sanctions; anything short of a bold move, is worthless. And I'm sure you know what I mean when I say "bold move."

More Americans need to be aware how we are perceived by the rest of the world. Our isolationism has become our worst trait, by far. Make no mistake - we are not a hermit kingdom - we are an ignorant one. And that ignorance will be our undoing.

Nava

Clown Prince of Politics

Greetings Friends,

The image above is of Beppe Grillo, known as the "Clown Prince" of Italian politics. The title is apropos, as he really is a comedian, and he wants to be Prime Minister of his country. 

We could learn a thing or two from the Italians, and any country with a parliamentary system of government for that matter. Here in the United States, a clown prince of politics is someone like House Speaker John Boehner, who favors spray tans, and bungles his sentiments almost as badly as George W. Bush. I could easily add to the list of American political clown princes (in both parties), but I don't want to put off my readers. I merely want to explain the difference. 

Italians went to the polls on Sunday to elect a new government. Voting in a country with a parliamentary government is even more important than voting in one that is a constitutional republic. Your vote actually counts, and is used to determine which party, if any, gains control of that country's parliament - the governing body. Unlike the United States, where our elected representatives merely promise to try to work together (a lot of good that promise is), parliamentarians must agree, officially, to form what is known as a coalition, in order to get down to the business of governing. The formation of coalitions is necessary when one party does not score a clear victory in a federal election. I've seen this happen repeatedly in Canada, and the result is what is known as a "minority government," where nothing of substance can be accomplished. The benefit of a minority government to the Prime Minister is one similar to a utility employee controlling a power grid in a large city: One flip of the switch and your neighborhood goes dark.

While I was living in Canada, I watched Prime Minister Stephen Harper control Parliament in a way similar to the metaphor I just used. He and his Conservative party presided over several minority governments before winning a majority in the 2011 federal election. Living under minority rule can be a bit unnerving for an American; the plug can literally be pulled at any time, which is something we are not used to. We are used to more order in our electoral process, with regular elections taking place every year, and set terms for our elected officials. Canadians, and citizens of countries like Great Britain and Italy are considerably less bothered by minority governments, but don't appreciate having to schlep to the polls every time the plug gets pulled. This is exactly what Italy is experiencing right now. 

The Italian election, although not yet officially decided, looks to be heading towards a minority government. In this case, however, the number of votes cast have added up to virtual gridlock, and a coalition between the parties with the most votes might not solve the problem. Not only will the Italian government be hamstrung, it will be powerless with the country on the brink of financial ruin so dire, it could send the rest of Europe into a serious tailspin. 

Into the middle of all this comes Beppe Grillo, who, in America, would be compared to someone like Ralph Nader, Ross Perot, or Ron Paul. Except, Beppe Grillo isn't a consumer advocate, a wealthy businessman, or a doctor. He is a comedian. Yes; imagine if George Carlin, were he still alive, wanting to be president. That's who Beppe Grillo is. His Five Star Movement party has captured the hearts of many Italians who are fed up with their mainstream politicians and want change. Unfortunately, Grillo's party did not get enough votes to govern; instead, the people who voted for him have deadlocked the two mainstream parties, the ones headed by former philandering, conservative-leaning Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi, and his opponent, the more liberal Pier Luigi Bersani. The one positive thing Grillo and his followers did accomplish, is they made their feelings known about how disappointed they are with Italy's history of corruption, which has lead the country down the same path as Greece and Spain. If austerity measures are not enacted, Italy's economy will fail, and will have to be rescued. In an effort to avoid this, Italians might have to go to the polls again, and start from scratch. A minority government that cannot form a viable coalition under these circumstances is unacceptable. 

As ruinous as American government is, and as intractable as both political parties are, I would not want to be an Italian citizen at this point in time. Don't get me wrong, I love everything about Italy, but right now, the country is in the midst of a political pickle I want no part of. Comparisons of Silvio Berlusconi to Benito Mussolini are just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to describing what has actually gone wrong. And, don't for a second believe that the United States doesn't own a few kernels of responsibility for the sorry state of the European economy. Hello? Mortgage-backed securities? Toxic debt? 

As far as Beppe Grillo is concerned, I would love to see a comedian become Prime Minister of Italy. I've always been a firm believer in truth disguised as comedy. Remember, if you will, the Shakespearean fool: he might be the clown prince of court, but his humor disguised the truth. Beppe Grillo has shown us that humor rings truer in politics than the best stump speeches given by the most articulate politicians. Sometimes, it takes a fool to help us see things clearly. 

Nava

Cruise Vacation? Hell, No!

Greetings Friends,

When I was a kid, my next-door neighbors in Brooklyn were semi-regular cruisers. I remember once going to the west side of Manhattan to see them off on a cruise aboard the Oceanic. I don't remember where the ship was headed, but I do remember how glamorous and sophisticated they seemed, setting sail on a big ship to an exotic locale. Back in those days, a cruise was not considered a commonplace vacation.

I've been on two cruises in my life: the first one, a Disney cruise, which ironically turned out to be aboard the very same Oceanic, only this time the ship was painted bright red. It didn't seem quite as big to me in my early 20s, as it did when I was younger. The stateroom I was in was so tiny, I had to go out in the hall to change my mind. The voyage was incident-free, unless I count the traumatizing experience of getting groped by someone dressed up as a giant chipmunk.

The second cruise I took in 1997 was my honeymoon. It was on a Royal Caribbean ship that sailed to Bermuda. I got married on the ship, and my now ex-husband and I sailed with another couple.We had a great time, save for a bunch of passengers who interrupted the tail-end of our reception, helping themselves to the hors d'oeuvres and cake that were meant for our guests. That and a minor, non-fiery engine malfunction were the only black marks on that trip.

The cruise industry has changed greatly since Kathie Lee Gifford did all those excessively perky ads for Carnival cruises, touting the company's "fun ships" as affordable, casual vacations. Lines like Holland America and Royal Caribbean wanted to hang on to the glamor and sophistication by requiring formal dress during dinner, and set times for all activities. Carnival introduced what became known as "freestyle" cruising to the world, scaling back the formality of their cruises, and in effect, cheapening the experience both literally and figuratively. As someone who was glued to "Love Boat" every Saturday night during the late 70s, going to dinner on a cruise meant getting all gussied up, not wearing the same clothes I had spent the day in. I always envisioned a cruise exactly as it was depicted on that show; the Carnival experience never appealed to me.

Fast forward through the millennium to cruising becoming one of the most affordable, sought-after vacations you can take. Dedicated cruise junkies will set sail several times a year, looking for the best deals on vacation packages. Some lines even offer what are known as "repositioning" cruises, which visit ports on the way to a different location from the one the ship departs from. Add to that the number of ports these gargantuan boats now leave from, you can catch one in so many places, it often does not require an additional plane trip to get to them. But, with convenience and a good bargain, disaster often accompanies the experience, as the unsuspecting passengers on the Carnival Triumph found out this week.

What happened on the Carnival Triumph is nothing new in the cruising industry. For years we've been hearing about outbreaks of norovirus and other illnesses due to the less than sanitary conditions aboard some of these vessels. When the Costa Concordia ran aground off the coast of Italy, killing 35 passengers, many people stood up and took notice of the dangers of cruising. But, the story, although major, did not impact the cruising crowd that sets sail on the fun ships. Today, for less than $500, you can embark on a 4-day jaunt on one of these floating hotels, and expect to have the time of your life - until the boat malfunctions and you're stuck relieving yourself into a trash bag.

After a few cheesy vacations taken in my early 20s, including the voyage on the mouse boat, I've always liked to research my vacation destinations/travel options before embarking on something as potentially disastrous as what these people have been through. Sure, things can go wrong on planes, and in trains and automobiles, but when you're being held captive on a floating hotel out at sea, the experience can be even more torturous and perilous. After all, a plane crash can kill you instantaneously; five days stuck on a debilitated cruise ship with raw sewage sluicing though your midst, little food, water, and no power, not only has the potential to kill you, it might actually drive you insane.

So, the lesson we learn from the Carnival Triumph, and all the other cruise ship cautionary tales out there in the great electronic void (I'd start with this one), is: do your homework. And always keep in mind that if something sounds too good to be true, it usually is.

Nava

Deprived of the Telly

Greetings Friends,

Ever since I traversed the world's longest undefended border in a southerly direction, I've been catching up on all the "premium" television I missed while living up north. It is a sad fact of life that Canadians pay larcenous amounts to cable, satellite, and mobile phone providers, making channels like HBO, Showtime, and Turner Classic Movies unaffordable luxuries for many; myself included. Now, I have access to all the television I could possibly want, so much so that I have forsaken books for the time being to stream shows like "Boardwalk Empire," "Downton Abbey," and others that I had no access to because I refused to choose between the occasional sushi supper and the boob tube. Sushi won out because spicy tuna rolls give me more pleasure than forking over my hard-earned money to thieving entities like Rogers Communications.

"Downton Abbey" and "Boardwalk Empire" have kept me riveted to my laptop in my spare time; especially "Boardwalk," since it is "The Sopranos" re-imagined with Tommy guns and lots of liquor. Steve Buscemi's Nucky Thompson is every bit as evil as Tony Soprano, with the added bonus of spot-on period backdrops. It's not so easy to re-create Atlantic City of the Roaring 20s, but Terence Winter and his HBO cronies do a fantastic job. He must long for the days when location scouting consisted of trolling Teaneck, West Orange, and Garden State Plaza, as opposed to having to create a genteel version of Atlantic City that no longer exists. The New Jersey of "The Sopranos" is still pretty much the same; Nucky Thompson's Atlantic City might as well be the underwater island of Atlantis.

The same goes for Julian Fellowes' addicting World War I British period drama, "Downton Abbey." I've always been a sucker for British television (hello "Absolutely Fabulous" and "Monty Python's Flying Circus"), so this was a no-brainer for me. And even though "Downton" is hopelessy soap operatic, it goes where "Upstairs Downstairs" never did. The characters are extraordinary; who doesn't love Maggie Smith as the Dowager Countess Violet Crawley? And Elizabeth McGovern as Lady Cora Crawley, the lone American in a group of stuffy Brits? Amazing. I literally spent an entire weekend watching all the previous episodes, so I would be ready for the eagerly anticipated third season. So far, it does not disappoint.

In case you haven't figured it out, HBO is the channel I missed the most. Besides "Boardwalk," most of its original programming, save for a few stinkbombs like "The Comeback" and "Flight of the Conchords," is stellar. What cemented that for me was the original film "Game Change," which stars Julianne Moore as Governor Sarah Palin, Ed Harris as Senator John McCain, and Woody Harrelson as creepy used car salesman -er, senior campaign strategist, Steve Schmidt. Julianne Moore's portrayal of Sarah Palin was at once brilliant and downright scary. Even though I didn't want to believe that she could be that dumb, it would have been an unmitigated disaster had that woman accompanied John McCain to the White House. No other broadcast entity would have had the balls to portray Governor Palin in all her blockheaded glory than HBO. And big, big kudos to Julianne Moore for the brave performance that snagged her Primetime Emmy and Golden Globe awards. She is one of my all-time favorite actresses.

I must admit that I feel enormous guilt over forsaking the written word for so much television, but hey - it's not like I'm spending countless hours watching Honey Boo Boo or the Kardashians. If that were the case, I'd gladly undergo shock therapy and a full-frontal lobotomy if necessary. For me, the best check-your-brain-at-the-door activities are ones that still make me think. It's when the thinking stops that I begin to worry.

Nava

How Old Are We, Really?

Greetings Friends,

In my first post of the new year, I shared the fact that I am turning 46 this year, and mentioned that I neither feel nor look my age. This morning, it dawned on me that looks can be deceiving. Many people can look or act older than they actually are, and for even more, the exact opposite holds true. While many of us strive to look our best no matter what the date of birth on our drivers licenses, we are sometimes guilty of acting much younger than we are. And that, more often than not, can be a very bad thing.

When a person attains the age of 40 or older, one of the most oft-lamented sentiments you hear is how glad that person is to be so far removed from the high school-stage of life. I've uttered that statement many times, even though my high school experiences left me relatively unscathed emotionally. My most traumatic experience from that era occurred when I was 16, when I had to watch my older brother marry a woman who, to this day, most likely still thinks I am the same 12 year-old girl she met in late 1979. Other than that, I was fortunate to not have to endure many of the traumas most teenagers must experience. I believe those experiences used to be referred to as "rites of passage." Today, they're known as bullying.

What strikes me about people my age is how reluctant we are to share our experiences with those who came after us. We are, after all, the last generation to grow up without computers, cell phones, flat-screen televisions and the Internet. When I was a kid, I had a black-and-white TV in my bedroom, and my brother had an 8-track tape player as part of his integrated stereo system. Making long-distance phone calls to Canada was still frowned upon, so I wrote letters to my cousins. I wore Buffalo sandals with my Faded Glory jeans, and for my tenth birthday, I received a powder-blue t-shirt with an iron-on decal of John Travola as "Vinny Barbarino," which promptly peeled off the first time my mother washed it. My friends and I sometimes referred to each other as "flat-leavers," and one of our favorite things to do was to go to the corner candy store two blocks from my house to buy copies of Tiger Beat magazine and Goldenberg's peanut chews. That right there pretty much encapsulates my childhood.

Today, I sometimes feel like I am enduring a second childhood. Unfortunately, this soon-to-be-46-year-old childhood does not include such innocent treats like peanut chews and Tiger Beat. It consists instead of juvenile behavior from my contemporaries I can honestly live without. Instances of perceived backstabbing, "flat-leaving," and the forming of clique-ish factions of friends are the things I was hoping were gone for good from my life. While these modes of behavior are expected of children, another expectation is that said children will eventually abandon them. That, sadly, is not the case. I am acquainted with some people who are shining examples of how not to behave in your 40s and 50s. And, what strikes me as really ironic about that, is their adolescent behavior is exponentially more vicious now than it likely was when it was somewhat appropriate to act that way. Experience is supposed to accompany age; part of that experience should be learning from past actions so as not to repeat the ones that can potentially hurt others. Instead of gaining the necessary maturity we need to thrive during the post-adolescent stages of our lives, we regress, finding infinite ways to hang on to the adolescent angst we should have left behind years ago. Technology hasn't helped on that front; with its assistance, we are now able to inflict ourselves on others with a degree of cruelty unmatched by previous generations.

If a genie were to appear (virtual or otherwise) before me, my one wish would be to eradicate this behavior in all who feel they must cling to it so late in the game. I'm not naive enough to believe that those older than I are not capable of it as well - I once met someone who worked in a nursing home who playfully referred to it as a "high school with wheelchairs" - but I do find myself easily exhausted by watching those my age who are stuck in perpetual adolescence. If I'm this exhausted now, it will certainly be interesting to see how I'm feeling 30 years from now.

Nava

The Sickness

Greetings Friends,

The writer Marcel Proust once said (when he wasn't too busy eating cookies), "Three-quarters of the sicknesses of intelligent people come from their intelligence. They need at least a doctor who can understand this sickness." 

I consider myself an intelligent, reasonable person, but when it comes to sports, I abandon all reason and morph into a sheep, guided only by my instinct to follow the rest of the herd. In my case, the herd I follow is made up of other mostly intelligent people who can't help themselves when confronted with football, basketball, soccer, baseball and hockey. We might as well be drooling vegetables in the presence of our chosen poison. 

After enduring yet another National Hockey League work stoppage, the realization has never been more apparent that being a sports fan is a sickness. Anyone who must stop the world to turn on a baseball, football, basketball, or hockey game has got some major issues. Further, anyone who spends thousands of dollars every year in the form of season tickets has a few screws loose. And, any individual with the financial resources to actually purchase a professional sports team should take that money and donate it to a worthwhile charity. Supporting unionized, professional athletes in today's world is like giving candy to a blind, diabetic amputee. 

Early Sunday morning, the NHL announced that its labor issues have been resolved, and it will soon embark on an abbreviated season. My head told me to ignore the news and get on with my day. My heart, however, was rejoicing with the knowledge that there would soon be hockey to gnash my teeth and bite my nails over. That is my sickness. It has been with me since childhood, and it won't be going away any time soon, despite my level of intelligence. 

 Speaking of intelligence, one of the most intelligent athletes to ever play professional hockey, former Montreal Canadiens goaltender Ken Dryden, put down some very astute words about the NHL lockout for Canada's Globe and Mail newspaper. I've always admired Mr. Dryden for his intelligence - he became a lawyer after retiring from hockey in 1979 - but he never achieved great success as a front-office hockey guy, or as a politician (he was my Member of Parliament for a short time when I lived in Toronto). Maybe his calling was to be one of the greatest hockey players of all time; maybe he is an above-average lawyer; maybe, just maybe, he is as stupid as the rest of us, waiting for the puck to drop on the first game of the 2013-2013 season. 

Nava

Superstitious New Year

Greetings Friends,

I'm sure I'm not the only one who is slightly (who am I kidding - it's way more than slightly) superstitious about the dawning of this particular new year. The number thirteen is a symbol of bad luck to some; myself included. I try to avoid it when I can, and when I can't, I shudder with fear of what havoc this offensive number might wreak on my life. These thoughts, on what should be a propitious day of new beginnings and resolutions, have instead lead me to take stock of what it is I am afraid of, and what I might be able to do to quell those fears, as I have no choice but to live with the number "2013" for the next 364-and-a-half days. Here goes:

Fear of Running Out of Gas: The vehicle in my possession at the moment has something of a "sticky" gas gauge. I've noticed that when the needle gets close to the "E" side of the display, it engages in a bit of wiggling, causing the gas tank image to light up, when in fact there is at least one-quarter of a tank of gas left. It was quite worrisome at first, but when I realized the multitude of gas stations in my midst, I will never be too far from one even if I do actually drain the entire tank. The price differential, I'm afraid, is another fear factor; The price per gallon varies about 30 cents depending on where you go to fill up. Ponderous.

Fear of Aging: In five months time I will celebrate birthday number 46. Where the hell have all those years gone? I don't feel 46, nor do I think I look 46, although I will never look as good as some famous women my age or older. Admittedly, if I had the financial means to have a personal trainer, chef, and top-flight plastic surgeon at my disposal, things might be different. But, reality says I have to make do with what I have. That means not thinking about the number of my next birthday, but how I feel instead. I have a lot of work to do on that front, and it's time I got cracking.

Fear of Being too Zen: The digital lifestyle I find myself living has made me think about all the material possessions I used to have that are now superfluous. I don't have any records, CDs or DVDs in my home at the moment (all those items are in storage), because I've finally realized that all I ever want to watch or listen to is housed in an electronic device. All my music is on my laptop hard drive or in my phone, and any movie or television show I want to watch can be accessed online. I literally sleep with my laptop instead of falling asleep to the sound of the television. I am afraid that one day, the extent of all our possessions will be reduced to a few pieces of necessary furniture and a handful of electronic devices. The presence of a console television and a rack stereo system would be such a comfort to me.

Fear of Not Being Heard: In April, I will be writing this blog three years. I appreciate each and every one of my readers, even though I sometimes feel this is just another byte of unnoticed bandwidth in the great electronic void. Someone very special in my life keeps reminding me how important it is to write for myself. I promise to try to keep that in mind and focus more on writing what I want to, instead of just writing what I have to.

Fear of the Future: With all the recent events of destruction and violence, both natural and man-made, I fear that the future will be darker, rather than brighter. I don't want to feel this way, but sometimes it's unavoidable. I want to be positive and hopeful, but when I witness things like destructive weather events and unspeakable acts of murder, I worry. Will tomorrow really be better, or are we kidding ourselves? I sincerely hope not.

Fear of too Much Visibility: There are countless cautionary tales about people who have gotten burned online. I've come to the conclusion that the Internet is both a blessing and a curse, and it is up to each one of us to choose how much or how little we share on it. There are literally no secrets anymore, hard as we try to keep them. My only hope is that the mistakes I made in my past will stay there, and the things I hope to achieve will be celebrated. I must also toughen up and realize that all of this is completely beyond my control.

Happy New Year, friends; and try very hard to be healthy, prosperous and happy, despite the lousy number.

Nava