Old Age is a New Adventure

Two weeks ago, surgery restored my smashed left elbow to something like its previous shape. The next morning, after surgery, another doctor gave me some stunning news: I needed to start taking large doses of Vitamin D right away and when I get home, call the hospital and come back for a Dexascan.  The doctor said I had low bone density, a significant Vitamin D deficiency and said I should join an osteoporosis support group. 

Wow!!

I knew this day was coming. Someday my bones would be frail enough that it would be stupid to ride a bike.  I did not know the day would be so soon. 

The strange thing, from inside my mind, was my feelings of excitement—not loss or panic.  Since the early 90s when I became bike obsessed, every day, every trip, every vacation, and all future plans were built around riding.  I took two bikes to Iraq on deployment. I took a bike with me on more than 30 business trips in three years between 1998 and 2001. 

One of the first things I thought about was how different the world would look if the bike were not part of the trip. I have been to Paris two dozen times in the last two decades. I have never been to The Louvre.  Because visiting the premiere museum in Paris takes all day and when I am in Paris some part of every day, I ride with the racers at the daily training race at L’Hippodrome in Bois de Boulogne.  One way or another, The Louvre never happened.

I then imagined myself walking across every bridge from the Eiffel Tower to Ile de Cite because I would not feel the need to ride. 

As I healed from major injuries several times over the last 30 years, my focus always was getting back on the bike.  When I broke my neck, I spent 90 days in the neck and chest brace. On the 91^st, I rolled down the hill I crashed on.  Now, I was oddly delighted that I would not be focused on getting back on the bike. It was a relief.

I knew Old Age would impose limits on me, like not riding, but I expected the limits to feel like fasting or waiting in line—deprivation.  But against all my expectations, I feel excitement. I have a new frame to view the world.  I started thinking about moments over the last five years when I began to deal with the effects of change from aging and other causes.

If I had to date the beginning of Old Age, I would say it was July of 2015.  On June 30, 2015, I retired. I had worked summers and Saturdays and sometimes after school since I was 12. I had a full-time job from my 18^th birthday until the day I retired. I have not worked a day since.  I have not missed it.  In June of 2015, I went on my last Army training exercise and took the Army fitness test for the last time.  Soon after, I left the Army. With the rise of Trump and his popularity among soldiers, I was glad to be gone.  It was a big change to no longer be a worker or a soldier, but after a half-century of defining myself as both, I was neither and I was unexpectedly happy.

I started meditating. I started taking Yoga.  After years of resisting both, I was open to both and began practicing. I am currently not doing Yoga in part because of COVID-19 and now because of my injuries but have been meditating daily for years.

Also, in 2015, my workouts changed.  The swimming and running that carried me through an Ironman race in 2014 were history for me.  Both shoulders had torn ligaments. My left knee ached and would be replaced three years later.  No more Army fitness test meant no more pushups.  The bike was my only workout besides yoga. 

And coincident with my own advancing age, in 2016 America became senile. America elected a racist who wanted to make America white again.

Since 2017, much has changed in my thought and spiritual life because America is in rapid cognitive decline. More on that soon.

After Reading "Ally" I Wished Romney Won in 2012

After reading “Ally” a memoir by Michael B. Oren, I was wistfully wishing Romney had won the 2012 election.  Oren was the Israeli ambassador to the U.S. from 2009 to 2013.  Reading his book reminded me of how much I disliked President Obama’s foreign policy.  On Israel, Iran, Iraq, Syria, Libya and the Arab Spring, I did not like the way America interacted with the Arab World. 

Of course, I liked the Bush administration policy much less.  The Iraq War was an epic foreign policy failure. I liked the Obama foreign Policy far better than that of Bush 43. 

But reading Oren’s book reminded me that Obama was only better, he was not good.

Although foreign policy is necessarily the focus of Oren’s book, as I read, I began to image what would have changed here in America if Obama was defeated in 2012.

It would have been a defeat for the batshit TEA Party/Rush Limbaugh/Roy Moore/Evangelical/racist wing of the Republican Party. Romney and Ryan were RINOs according to the Sarah Palin radical idiot wing of the party. 

Romney in power would have been a sane and sensible version of Conservative, but the most important thing Romney would have done is killed any chance that the horrible racist pig now in office could ever be President.  Trump could not have run against Romney in 2016 and whoever ran as a Democrat would have run against a moderate version of Conservative. 

If Romney served eight years, the despicable, deplorable core of Trumpism would be older and weaker. A Democrat would be at a distinct advantage in 2020 after eight years of Romney. Even if Trump somehow got the 2020 nomination, he would have lost. 

By the time 2028 rolled around, Trump would be senile or dead and his most batshit followers would be the same.  The Republican candidate of 2024 or 2028 could well have been Paul Ryan.  A Romney win in 2012 would have kept Trump and the third-rate losers around him from ever getting near the White House. 

In politics, the lesser of two evils is often the best one can get.  Romney, whatever his flaws, would have been infinitely better than the vain little coward we have now.

The 1965 Movie Battle of the Bulge

My son Nigel and I watched the 1965 movie Battle of the Bulge just before Memorial Day. I first saw this in Boston at the Loews theater, one of the few theaters in Boston that had the Cinemascope projector allowing them the full screen effects of this movie.  The Theater had velvet curtains and plush seats. I had never been to a place so opulent.

I loved the movie. It certainly had some influence on my later career as a tank commander.  But even as a 12-year-old I had read it enough about in World War II to know that the tanks on this screen were from between World War II and what was then the present day.  Sherman tanks were actually M 24 Chafee tanks in the tigers were M 47 Patton tanks.

It was fun to watch Telly Savalas as a Tank commander/Black market entrepreneur, a roll he would hand off to Donald Sutherland and take to another level in 1970 in Kelly’s Heroes when Savalas became a bank robber.

For my son, I could also place this movie among the other World War II movies we watched recently.  Fury, which had actual Shermans and an operational tiger tank, was four months after the Battle of the Bulge. Band of Brothers has the Battle of the Bulge near the center of the drama. In the movie Patton the Battle of the Bulge is near the end.  Last fall I visited Bastogne and Malmedy.  I brought out some of the pictures from that visit.

So along with this movie we had a world war two review.

The Unpardonable Sin is Pride

The Unpardonable Sin has haunted believers for more than two millennia, at least until recently.  I remembered this while reading one of the “Master and Commander” novels.  The ship’s doctor visits an insane asylum in early 19^th-century Europe. At that time the two most common delusions were those who either believed they were God and capable of forgiving sin or those who believe they had committed the unpardonable sin and were waiting for hell to open up and swallow them.

Even 50 years ago I remember people deeply worried about having committed the unpardonable sin. At the time exactly what that sin is seemed to be a mystery. After I read “Inferno” by Dante I assumed that the unpardonable sin was pride. Dante puts pride in the bottom of hell. Pride is the central sin of Satan recorded in the Bible. If you are proud you have no need for forgiveness putting you either equal to God or better than God. That sin cannot be pardoned, because you could not be pardoned if you have no faults.

CS Lewis says the doors of hell lock from the inside. If this is true it is because the proud person could never ask for forgiveness, the admission to heaven.  So rather than admit wrong that person locks himself in hell forever.

Until 2016, I thought I believed with Rabbi Jonathan Sacks that the line between good and evil runs through each human heart. The rabbi says all believers in monotheism believe this.  The alternative is to believe the line between good and evil is between us and them. In Game of Thrones the Lannister queen is identified as evil when asked by her son if someone is an enemy. Her reply is, “Our enemy is anyone who is not us.”

For decades when I heard someone say, “I will never forgive…” I would have moment of pain thinking, ‘Oh please don’t say that.’  Sometimes I would imagine I could smell sulfur when I heard those words. But now I live in a country in which believers worship a man who says, “I have no need for forgiveness.” In Trump’s America the smell of sulfur and brimstone is everywhere.

Racists Hate Science and Destroy What They Love

Berlin 1945, the end of a racist empire

I just finished a long book about the Holocaust.  The author, Timothy Snyder, begins the book showing that Hitler used the Jim Crow south as a model for the racist state he dreamed of. Hitler also admired America’s long history of betraying and murdering native Americans. He saw the Volga River in Russia as his own Mississippi River and the Slavic people of eastern Europe as the native population to destroy. He would make Germany great and has rich as America by taking over all of eastern Europe and Russia as far as the Volga and getting rid of all the Jews in the process.

Hitler believed that conquest of these lands was necessary because the German land could not support the population of Germany. It is one of the terrible ironies of his anti-intellectualism that he held back the green revolution that would feed all of Europe and much of the world after he was dead, and the fascists were out of power in defeat. By the 1960s every free democratic country could not only feed itself but had surplus food to export. Part of that food surplus went to the Soviet Union because the green revolution there was stopped by the perverse biological beliefs of Joseph Stalin.

In 2016 Trump took control of the Republican Party by being openly racist instead of pretending not to be racist as the party had done since Nixon. Trump has spent three years destroying the environment and laws protecting the environment. He attacks the green new deal and all environmental initiatives as socialism. Like Hitler a century ago Trump is an idiot who could make America better, but his prejudices and hatred of science rule his third-rate mind.  Stupid people are always the most stubborn.

Hitler took control of Germany with the votes and the backing of Evangelical and Catholic Christians by making them so afraid of socialism they embraced Hitler’s racism. The southern churches that backed slavery then Jim Crow laws are now the state church of Trump. They are anti-science, anti-intellectual and they want an apocalypse not a living planet.  If the resistance to environmental progress seems crazy in America it’s because people with vile beliefs and vile goals really are looking forward to Armageddon. 

Snyder’s book: “Black Earth: The Holocaust as History and Warning” traces the history of the Holocaust in every country that the Nazis controlled. Throughout the book the terrible suffering that racism brings to the world is clear. Also clear is the terrible irony that some of that suffering is because racists are anti-science and anti-intellectual and their a thorough stupidity ruins even their own world.

Out of the Cast, Therapy Begins Today

My high-tech arm brace

Today I had went to see my surgeon and to get my first physical therapy session.  The cast came off shortly after I arrived at the office. I got x-rays. The technician doing the x-rays explained very carefully what the doctor needed to see and did her best to make sure I was not in pain. She could see from the previous x-rays that I was a mess or at least my elbow was a mess.

After the x-rays the surgeon came to the exam room. Even with a mask on he had the look of someone who is very happy with their work. He told me that everything looked very solid. He showed me the plates and screws holding it together my humerus bone and my ulna. He told me he had to break the ulna to fix the joint. So, my broken bone count is 40.

The surgeon said the break in my elbow was not because of fragile bones. He said the break would have been the same in a 20-year-old who hit the ground in the same way. That was good to know.

After the doctor left, two medical technicians put me in the device you see in the photo. They said I should keep this on except in the shower. I was happy to know I can take a shower now. It won’t be comfortable sleeping in this, but it won’t be any worse than the cast and the sling.

After the doctor visit, I went to another part of the building and had my first physical therapy session. I will write more about that soon.

Protesting personal protective equipment is sooooooooo American

These guys don't protest helmet rules

In 1981, I was a staff writer at the Elizabethtown Chronicle. I was assigned to write about the anti-helmet law demonstration at the state capital. I was the only motorcyclist on staff and always wore a helmet, so I was not sympathetic with the demonstrators.

I wrote about the demonstration and reported the opinions of the demonstrators as accurately as I could. I remembered some of their arguments from a decade before when I heard the arguments against wearing seat belts. The protesters insisted that riding a motorcycle was just as safe with or without a helmet.

Since it was a weekly newspaper, I had a chance to update my story the next day with a report of the death of a motorcyclist leaving the rally riding home in the middle of the night with a blood alcohol level that made him legally drunk. He died of massive head injuries. Since he was dumb enough to drive a motorcycle while drunk his lifespan was probably destined to be short anyway.

Personal protective equipment has always been controversial in freedom worshipping America. We are free to be as stupid as we want to be. We do not want people to tell us to wear masks or seatbelts or helmets or safety glasses or wash our hands.

We wear personal protective equipment for ourselves and for those who love us and for those who could be hurt if we don’t as in the case of facemasks. The trouble is there is no dramatic feedback for safety. We wear a seat belt and walk away from an accident that could have killed us.

There is an old proverb that says above all do not become a proverb. Do not be that blind man who refused safety glasses at work. And do not be the motorcyclist who protested helmet laws and died on the way home of massive head injuries. Fifty years post mortem you are still a proverb.

Fighting Frigates and Main Battle Tanks Have Some Things in Common

B-13, "Bad Bitch" my tank, 1975-78

The Movie Poster

Royal Navy frigates in the early 1,800s and modern main battle tanks have a few things in common. For instance, if you want to increase morale on a fighting ship do more got to re-practice. Firing cannons and small arms makes the crew happier.  For the past year I have been reading the Master and Commander Series of novels by Patrick O’Brian. I am now reading the 20^th novel in this series which is the last novel by O’Brian himself. There is a short 21^st novel. O’Brian died while writing it in the year 2000. It was finished by a friend of the author.

I watched the movie long before I knew that the novels existed. The movie Master and Commander starring Russell Crowe debuted in 2003. I have watched it several times sense including just last week. Now that I have read nearly all the books the movie is a pretty good summary.

As I read the novels, I thought a lot about life in a tank. Asked with the frigate the crew is very close together. Both of the main battle tank and a frigate are fighting machines designed around getting their cruise to the battle with as much firepower as possible. As with the movie Fury, many crew members of frigates Think of sailing a fighting ship has the best job they ever had.

In sea battles between wooden frigates can last for hours, but they can also be as short sharp and violence as modern tank battles. The battles are often at very close-range including boarding and fighting hand to hand until one ship surrenders.

In the 4000+ pages of the 20 novels the author spends a lot of time describing sailing in excruciating detail. He knows how every sail on the ship is rigged and used to make the ship faster and maneuver it. He also follows the two main characters through their entire professional lives. Capt. Jack Aubrey and Dr. Steven Mathurin are very different man who develop a lifelong friendship that the novels follow. They go through great ups and downs of fortune and love and loss in success and failure.

And as with the sailing novels my best friends of my life I met while serving as a tank commander.

I had no particular interest in sailing before I read the first novel. But after I started reading the story was so good, I read 20 novels inside of a year. I could not recommend more highly. And if novels are not your thing the movie is wonderful.

Gettysburg: Corona Movie Seven

The next movie in our Corona Virus Film Festival at home is the movie Gettysburg.  Clocking in at more than four hours, we split the viewing between two days. 

I saw the movie when it was released in 1993 and again early in the 2000s on DVD. I had forgotten how long it is and how didactic. Throughout the movie are speeches about why both sides are fighting the war. I think anyone who is sympathetic with the Confederate cause would find these speeches painful. I liked them and I don't like anything about the rebel cause. 

In the course of the movie, the professors who take up arms are treated with respect.  Learning in general is treated well.  There is a strong anti-intellectual strain in American life, but in this movie the learned men like Colonel Chamberlain are treated with respect and last-in-his-West-Point-class George Pickett is the butt of jokes.  The scene in which Pickett denies evolution is wonderful.  The scene in which General Hancock talks to Chamberlain about his friend General Armistead is beautiful and sad. 

For spectacle, the movie is just amazing. Hundreds of re-enactors line up shoulder to shoulder to attack Little Round Top. Thousands march across a mile of open fields at the end of the movie in Pickett's charge.  Dozens of cannon fire rolling barrages from the Confederate guns, answered by dozens more on the Union side. 

A quick search of "Lee Longstreet Gettysburg" shows the deep debate about how the double disaster of Little Round Top and Pickett's Charge happened. It also shows how the disagreement portrayed in the movie and the novel on which it is based could have unfolded between the two men. 

My first visit to Gettysburg was just a year after I returned to America from three years as a tank commander on the East-West border in Germany. We spent a lot of time training at or near the border deciding where our tanks should be placed for the best field of fire. Anytime my tank was on the move in the German countryside, I was scanning for a place to get out of the line of fire of an approaching enemy and looking for where to go if an attack suddenly occurred.

With my head full of fire and maneuver, seeing the route of Pickett's attack was stunning.  How anyone survived that assault, I don't know. 

The movie shows Lee believing his men could cross that mile of open field sloping upward and prevail over men with cannon hiding behind a stone wall. As an American, I am glad Lee was bold to the point of foolishness.  The defeat at Gettysburg was certainly not the end of the will of the slave-owning states to fight, but it was the end of any real hope for victory, and for that I am endlessly grateful. 

Movies in the Time of Corona: Blue, White, Red--A Trilogy

As part of my personal Corona Film Festival, I watched the trilogy Blue, White, Red:  Three Colours. 

These magnificent stories of love are in French, mostly set in France.  The second movie is set more in Poland and with more Polish than French, but begins in France. They have the same Polish director, Krzysztof Kieślowski, and were released in consecutive years in the mid-90s.  In each of the the three movies, the story is most clear in the face of the star--the three faces you see in the poster above. 

The camera lingers on the faces of Juliette Binoche, Zbigniew Zamachowski, Irene Jacob in each of the three movies.  Each deals with love and loss in ways that surprised me--especially in the second movie, White.

I watched them in order of release but they could be watched separately in any order.  The lead characters express so much with their faces that I am going to watch at least parts of the movies again without subtitles, just to see how much I can understand.  I was surprised as I watched White that I was picking up words and phrases in Polish. I don't know Polish, but it is a Slavic language and when spoken slowly, the sounds of some common words is very like Russian. 

Birthday Rides!!! 67km of Fun at 67 Years Old

The Ben Franklin Bridge, connecting Philadelphia and Camden

For my 67th birthday, I rode 67 km in four separate rides, mostly on hills across half of Pennsylvania.  On May 1, I drove to Philadelphia, stopping about halfway on the 80-mile drive, at the intersection of Pa. Routes 23 and 10.  Just south of that crossroad is a 2.5-km hill I really like. Usually when I travel to Philadelphia I am on a train, but since I was driving I could stop, and ride up and down this hill. 

After that ride, I drove to center city Philadelphia, parked on the Delaware Water Front and rode for a few hours.  I rode back on forth across the Ben Franklin Bridge, then across the city to West River Drive. This four-lane road is closed to traffic on weekends from March to October, but now it is closed to cars all the time.  I rode with walkers, runners and other riders with a lot of space to stay far apart.  I went all the way to City Line Avenue before turning around and taking a different way back to the Delaware River, and riding the Ben Franklin Bridge again. 

On the way home I pulled off the Turnpike at Morgantown to ride the Rt. 10 hill again--faster up and down than the morning. 

Today, May 2, I drove to a small town near Gettysburg to visit my son at a job site where he is working. He is part of a crew that is hanging overhead doors on a loading dock.  They were just finishing hanging 60 doors this week.

Then I drove to Fort Loudon and rode up and down Tuscarora Summit.  I rode the five-mile climb faster than I have since before knee replacement in March of last year.

What better way to celebrate my 67th birthday than riding 67 kilometers and climbing 1200 meters? 

Three Tankmen, Три Танкистa--A Soviet Song About a Tank Crew

There are not a lot of songs about tank crews.  The 75th Anniversary of VE Day is very soon. Here is a song about those of us who are Tankmen: Танкистa!

“The Three Tankmen”

It is a very famous song. It was made in the time when a large danger of a war with Japan was real. 
Japan militaries acted very impudently so the two border conflicts - in the region of the Khasan Lake 
in 1938 and in the region of Khalkhin Gol (in the West it is known as “Nomongan conflict”) in 1939, - 
occurred. In both the conflicts Japanese invasions on Soviet territory (Mongolian one in the second 
case) were repelled by Red Army. It looks like the song was made on the basis of the events in the 
region of the Khasan Lake.

This song was sang in the famous pre-war movie “Tractor men”. A former military gets the post of 
the team-leader of the tractor men’s group, tightens up discipline and learns his subordinates to 
prepare to be drivers of tanks in the case of an enemy invasion.

This song stayed very popular and during WWII. I read memoirs of the WWII veteran who recalled 
how a Soviet tankman played on a bayan and singed this song in a captured German town in 1945.

********************************************************************************************

“The Three Tankmen”

(Translated by Andrey)

Some lowering black clouds move on the state border,
The inclement land is filled by silence.
The high banks of the Amur River are securing by
The sentries of the Motherland who are standing there.
The sentries of the Motherland who are standing there.

A firm covering force is placed there against an enemy.
A valiant and strong unit is standing
Nearly the border of the Far Eastern land - 
It is an armored shock battalion.
It is an armored shock battalion.

Three tankmen, three merry friends, 
They are the crew of a combat vehicle,
Live there like an inviolable firm family –
And the song guarantees that it is true.
Three tankmen, three merry friends, 
They are the crew of a combat vehicle.

Some thick dew fell on grass,
Wide fogs fell on a ground.
Samurais decided to cross the border 
Nearly the river in this night.
Samurais decided to cross the border 
Nearly the river in this night.

But the intelligence reported exactly
And the powerful unit was given by an order and became to move
On the native Far Eastern land -
It was the armored shock battalion.
It was the armored shock battalion.

Tanks were rushing, raising a wind,
The redoubtable armor was advancing.
And Samurais were falling to a ground
Under the pressure of steel and a fire.
And Samurais were falling to a ground
Under the pressure of steel and a fire.

And all the enemies were eliminated - and the song guarantees that it is true, -
In the fire attack
By three tankmen, three merry friends,
Who are the crew of a combat vehicle!
By three tankmen, three merry friends,
Who are the crew of a combat vehicle!

1938

Two Rides, Two Days, Same Time of Day, Completely Different Rides

Riding the same route, the exact same roads, every day on a bicycle can be an entirely different ride each time.  This is certainly true of a group ride where who is on the ride dictates the pace.

For the past month I have been riding alone and settled into riding the same 25-mile out-and-back ride four or five days a week.  I ride just a little east of due south out of Lancaster for nine rolling miles, then up a three-mile climb. I turn around in a parking lot at the top, descend a different hill and go back to my home in the city on the same road just west of due north. 

Yesterday, the wind was out of the North NorthWest at 17mph, a perfect tail wind.  I felt good and rode hard out of the city and up the first long climb and all the way to the top of the three-mile climb at the end.  Eight miles into the ride there is a speed indicator telling people to slow down for construction.  It is on the far side of a bridge and slightly uphill.  Yesterday I first lit the sign up at 22mph then was down to 20 as I passed it.  By the time I stopped at the turnaround, I had covered the 12.5 miles in 48 minutes with more than a thousand feet of climbing. The ride back was a slow slog in a headwind. On the steepest part of the 3-mile descent, I only reached 37mph. 

There are 14 Strava segments on the route, seven in each direction. Yesterday, I made five PRs on the ride south. 

Today, the wind was 10mph out of the SouthWest.  It was a grinding headwind. I rode hard up the the big hill, but it was just over an hour when I reached the turnaround point.  On the way back my top speed was 51 mph, but with the wind 45 degrees off of a straight tail wind. I did not have any record segments on the way back. At the construction sign where I went 20mph and 22 yesterday, I first lit the sign at 13 mph, then 12 today.

Same road, consecutive days, about the same temp, but such a different ride.  Using my heart rate as a relative indicator of effort, yesterday I set all those PRs and had a high heart rate of 143. Today my highest heart rate was 155. 

Salary as an Expression of Equality: Democracy in America

I was listening to a translator of "Democracy in America" talk about how carefully Alexis de Tocqueville chose words to express the depth of equality in America. Harvey Mansfield, the translator, then spoke about salaries in America.

Tocqueville explained how important it is that in America everyone receives a salary, bosses and workers. In an aristocracy, the nobles do not receive a salary. Receiving wages, being a hireling, is something nobles cannot do. The recent royal couple move to North America is confirmation of this. 

Before listening to the talk, I saw a member of Cult45 who was angry that the media do not give her idol credit for donating his salary. After being reminded of Tocqueville's view of salaries, Trump refusing his salary could be yet another indication of how superior he believes he is to everyone else. 

His own words about his intellect would make a peacock blush.In America we are all equal and our salaries, even if those salaries can be described as "princely," are an indication of how class distinction has no place in the America.

Tocqueville visited America for nine months in 1831 to write about prisons. Before the end of the decade he wrote a thousand-page two-volume work that is still the best summary of politics in America in print.

Tocqueville admired much about America, but was also clear about our faults. He visited during the Presidency of Andrew Jackson and found him loathsome. It is no wonder he is Trump's favorite President. Tocqueville wrote sadly and compellingly about the terrible treatment of Native Americans and slaves in America. Tocqueville's companion on the trip, Gustave de Beaumont, wrote about the horrors of slavery after he returned to France.

He also predicted accurately that the 20th Century would be dominated by the conflict between the US and Russia.

Two Rides in Paris; Two Decades Ago

In September 2000 I made two trips to Europe to attend several business meetings.  Both trips took me to Paris, first for three days, then for two.  Because of where I stayed and my schedule, the rides were very different.

On the first trip, I had meetings only on the west side of Paris so I picked a hotel between the meeting site and the best place in Paris for bicyclists: L’Hippodrome:  the horse-racing track next to the River Seine on the southwest corner of Paris in the huge park called Bois de Boulogne.  There is a two-mile road around horse track that is closed every day, year-round from 10 am to dark for bicyclists.  The road varies from one to three lanes wide and actually has about fifty feet of elevation change—uphill on the east side, downhill on the west.  Every day, local cyclists circle this loop in groups varying in speed from casual commuters taking a lap, to groups of fifty or more averaging 25 to 27 mph. 

The fast group is local racers from teenagers to 50+, but as in America, more old guys than young.   These guys ride very orderly pace lines when the groups are smaller than 20.  Bigger groups tend to have three or four guys up front doing about 90% of the pulls.  Once in a great while, in the off season, a current or recent Tour de France rider who lives in Paris will drop in on the ride and take the pack to some painful speed above 30 mph.  I always ride American-flag jerseys or my team kit.  Parisian bike racers are as friendly as American Cat. 1,2,3 racers so no one talks to you anyway, but with the American-flag stuff on, they know I can’t speak French—especially at 27 mph.  Most bike racers in Paris are blue-collar guys who don’t speak English, so the ride is not a social event for Americans.

But it is a great ride—no square turns, and just about any pace you could want will have a group you can ride with.  I was in Paris three days in early September and managed to ride four times.  My hotel was in Suresnes, just across the river from the training ride and half the price of a Paris hotel just because it is outside the city.  From my hotel, I rode down through the center of town, crossed the Suresnes bridge and turned right at the second road to get to the ride site.

On my second trip to Europe in September, I spent two days in Paris and did not ride in the training race.  In fact, I stayed in a hotel near the airport 12 miles northeast of Paris.  One of the days, I had a meeting in the center of Paris and one in a suburb just south of the city.  I rode from the airport to the city center then to the south side and back.  The road to the city is a 4-lane highway.  It was like riding from Paoli to Philadelphia on Route 30—EXCEPT, no one screwed with me at all.  It was flat and dull but not dangerous.  At the city line at the town of Porte de Villette, the way into the city was through a cobblestone traffic circle with 6 intersecting roads and a railroad overpass.  Once through the circle, I rode straight across Paris splitting lanes with the scooters and couriers and having a great time. Again, lots of traffic but no Neanderthals in SUVs trying to kill you.  On the second day, I took a ride through the suburbs of Paris near the airport.

Of course, the best place to ride in Paris is the training race but riding in the city is great if for no other reason than experiencing heavy traffic without the small-minded people with big engines that we put up with on nearly every ride. 

Holocaust Remembrance Day 2020

April 21 is Holocaust Remembrance Day.  If you do not know the history of the Holocaust in some detail, you may think of the Holocaust as the death camps, particularly Auschwitz, where a million Jews died. 

During the last four years I have visited Holocaust sites and Holocaust memorials and read the history of the Holocaust in country-by-country detail.  The numbers tell a much different story than the Auschwitz-centered narrative of the Nazi death camp.  Auschwitz went into operation as a death camp in 1942. Previously, it was a slave labor camp. Half of the Jews killed in the Holocaust, more than three million, were already dead by 1942.

Beginning with the invasion of Poland in 1939, Jews were rounded up and killed by the SS, by German police and by local police in Poland.  When the Nazis invaded Russian in June 1941, SS units spread out in conquered territories. The Nazis told local people in eastern Poland, Ukraine, the Baltic States, Belarus and Russia that the property of Jews could be seized by those who killed its Jewish owners.

Jews were dispossessed and murdered by their neighbors.  Some were killed on the spot, others were rounded up and shot over pits, sometimes the victims dug the pits.  Lviv, Kiev, Minsk, Riga, Vilnius and other cities in the east were the sites of mass shootings of hundreds of thousands of Jews.  The shooting was done by tens of thousands of German police, SS men, local police and sometimes German regular army units.  Thousands and thousands of men pulled the trigger on a rifle or a pistol and watched a Jew die in front of them. 

Almost no one survived the early personal slaughter. By contrast, every death camp had some survivors.  There are tales of survivors of Auschwitz. There are almost no survivors of the murders over pits at Babi Yar and other pits of slaughter.

Also, on this day, those who sheltered and saved Jews are honored.  They deserve the honor, partly because they are vanishingly rare.  There were thousands of these heroes, but they represent less than one in one thousand of the 400 million people who identified themselves as Christians in the lands conquered or controlled by the Nazis during World War II.

In his book “Black Earth: The Holocaust as History and Warning” Timothy Snyder says, “The Christians who showed mercy to Jews … were exceptions in the moral catastrophe that was Christianity during the Holocaust.” 

The complicity of Churches began in Germany in 1932 when German Christians supported the openly racist Adolph Hitler who was stoking fear of communism.  German Churches followed Nazi racial laws ejecting Jewish Christians from Churches who had converted, sometimes generations before.  Jewish Christians were almost totally wiped out in The Holocaust with the full complicity of German Churches. 

The Holocaust is a story of mass murder of six million Jews, but from the beginning, the story of the Holocaust of a story of government stripping citizens of rights, it is a story of theft of property, betrayal by neighbors, deportation, enslavement and murder.  The Holocaust was not done by machines. The theft and murder was done by millions of men and women who betrayed, robbed and murdered a person right in front of them. 

Corona Movie Five: Kelly's Heroes

Donald Sutherland as "Oddball"

My youngest son and I have been watching movies every other day the past week and a half.

The most recent movie, the fifth, was "Kelly's Heroes" a movie celebrating its 50th anniversary this year.  The movie is as funny as I remember it. The movie opens with Clint Eastwood (Kelly) capturing a German intelligence officer in a town with at least a battalion of German troops. Eastwood drives through the town and the all those German soldiers in a Jeep never gets a scratch.  The officer tells Kelly about 14,000 gold bars 30 miles behind enemy lines.

Kelly, along with Donald Sutherland, Telly Savalas and Don Rickles drive and walk that 30 miles, capture the town and get the gold.  In a gunfight at the OK Corral sequence, they make a deal with a German tank commander guarding the bank and get away with all the gold.

I first saw it in the theater my senior year in high school.  Five years later, after four years in the Air Force, in 1975, I was in Armor School at Fort Knox and served a decade on active duty and in the reserves as a tank commander.  then in 1999, when I had been a bearded civilian for a decade and a half, I got my last tanker nickname.  The company I worked for acquired a subsidiary in Sao Paulo, Brazil. Several of a us flew there to meet the staff.  We got picked up at the airport by a company driver who spoke fluent English he learned from movies.

On the slow trip to the office in Sao Paulo traffic, our CEO told the driver, "Neil used to be a tank commander." At a traffic light he turned around and said, "Oddball! You look just like Oddball.  I love Kellys Heroes."

And that nickname stuck till I changed jobs.

The other movies so far:
Midway (2019)
Ford vs Ferrari
Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid
The Wild Bunch

Corona Film Festival Movie Four: The Wild Bunch

My son Nigel and I are having a Corona Film Festival. The most recent and fourth film on our list was "The Wild Bunch."  The movie just before this was "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid." 

Both movies were made in 1969--the year I got my drivers license.  Both are set at the end of the 19th Century and represent the end of the frontier and "The Old West." They are the farthest extremes of the cowboy movie genre and represent the end of cowboy movies.  Traditional Good Guys and Bad Guys were out of fashion.

In The Wild bunch, three groups are set against each other in this movie.  All of them are bad. All of them end up slaughtered in the final Sam Peckinpah gun fight or shortly after.  There are no good guys.  The group we follow through the movie are bank/train robbers.  They are pursued by a vile, incompetent set of vigilantes led by a former member of the gang, and in Mexico they fight against and ally with a Mexican rebel army led by a bandit general. 

By contrast, in "Butch Cassidy" nobody is bad.  Butch and the kid are robbers, but they are amiable, honorable and kill only when threatened.  The posse that pursues them is relentless, again honorable men upholding the law.  The rest of the Hole in the Wall Gang are decent men. When Butch and Sundance escape to Bolivia, they rob banks and are pursued by Bolivian police and soldiers who are also decent men. No bad guys. 

The final scenes are a stark contrast.  In both the robbers at the center of the drama are killed in a hail of bullets. But Butch and Sundance die off camera.  The gang in the Wild Bunch die on camera surrounded by the bodies of their enemies. At the nearly everyone is dead, except the Mexican villagers oppressed by the rebel general. They come to the scene of the carnage and collect the guns to protect themselves from other bandits.

Neither movie is anywhere close to the white hat hero versus the black hat outlaw of the traditional cowboy genre.  At the end of the 1960s, America was protesting war. There was violence in the streets. The top movies of the following year, 1970, were anti-war war movies.  Nigel and I will be watching these also:  "M*A*S*H,"  "Kelly's Heroes," "Catch-22," "Tora! Tora! Tora!" and "Patton" debuted during the first year of the 1970s.

"Patton" may not seem like an anti-war movie, but the character of General Bradley is a foil to Patton--the General who cares vs. the General who dares--at the expense of his men.

The return of Good Guys and Bad Guys would be the 1977 movie Star Wars--which used every trope of the traditional cowboy movie right down to the bar scene to bring back the Good Guy/Bad Guy Hero/Villain theme to the movies.  The full title of that 1977 movie is "Star Wars--A New Hope" a title more appropriate than ever looking back over almost five decades. 

Movie one of Corona Festival was Midway which I wrote about here. Nigel and I will watch the 1976 version starring Charlton Heston. 

Movie two was Ford vs. Ferrari, which I first saw in Paris in November with the title "LeMans 66." I was so taken with the movie I visited LeMans, France, a few days later and the museum at Circuit de Sarthe where the race is held. 

All My Passport Stamps--Memories Rebuilt

After I returned from my most recent trip to Europe and Israel, I decided put together a spreadsheet of the stamps in my passports.  Like so much of my life, I start late and then become obsessed.  I got my first passport just after my 44th birthday in 1997.  I had been overseas before that. I was stationed in Germany for three years with the U.S. Army and had seen a lot of Germany and some of France and Portugal with no passport. American soldiers could travel Western Europe without a passport during the Cold War. 

The second reason I persisted in putting together the 170-line document is that I have a five-year gap in my bicycling records, in fact in all of my records.  I started riding a bicycle seriously in 1988 two years after I quit smoking. In 1989, I started keeping track of miles and races and big ride. From 1989 to 1996 I have paper logs I got from Runners World magazine every year. 

Then in 1997 I started using Microsoft Excel to keep track of mileage.  In 2002 I switched from a PC to a Mac and somewhere in my digital history I managed to lose all records and files from 1997 to 2001.  I have a lovely spreadsheet of all my miles from 2002 to 2017.

In that five-year period from 1997 to 2001 were some of the best rides I ever had. Although passport stamps have their own problems as records, the stamps from trips gave me a pretty good record of where I was which has helped me to reconstruct some of the memories of that time.

Between April 1998 and November 2000, I worked for a multinational company whose main product was white pigment. During those 2-1/2 years I traveled to seventeen countries on five continents--I was supposed to go to Africa on one trip, but the trip got cancelled--traveling nearly every month for a total of 28 trips I could piece together from the stamps.  On all but two of the trips, I took a road bike with me.  Before September 2001, taking a bike was free on an overseas trip and only $50 per flight in America.  There was still the hassle of oversized baggage, but no charge back then.

Five of the trips were Round the World trips, usually somewhere in Europe first, then Singapore, Australia and/or Hong Kong, then back to America.  Two of the trips were more than half-way round the world going from the US to Europe to South America then back to America.  I also made trips directly to Asia and back: to Beijing, Shanghai and Singapore. 

According to the passport stamps, the top countries I have visited are France, Germany, the UK, Brazil, China, Singapore and Hong Kong.  For each of these countries I have more than ten stamps.  But I have made more trips to Italy than all but the top three countries and I only have two stamps.  I have, for instance, been to Turin, Italy five times since 1999, but I have traveled there from France twice in a train through the Alps (an amazing trip), twice in a car and once in a regional jet.  I went to Florence and Padua by driving from Switzerland--no passport stamps. 

I have been to eighteen countries for which I have no passport stamp. Many of the 53 countries I have visited are in the European Union. Some I passed through in a car or on a bicycle or a train and never passed through customs. I have no stamp for Portugal, Ireland, Andorra, Monaco, Luxembourg, Switzerland, Kosovo, Slovakia, the Czech Republic, Finland, Lithuania or Estonia. 

During my first long overseas ride in 2017, somewhere between Serbia and Ukraine, I quit keeping tracking of mileage. I became a regular user of Strava. I got so much data out of Strava that keeping spreadsheet seemed redundant. 

I'll write about rides I can fill in using passport and other travel information I have.  With coronoa virus, it could be a while before I add more stamps to my current passport. 

Trump and the Death of Honor

I loved being a soldier and hate what is happening to the American military

In the 44 years I was in the military between 1972 and 2016, I saw racial equality become reality just eight years after the Civil Rights Act of 1964. Not perfect, but way better than the civilian world. I grew up hearing my Dad talk about being the Jewish commander of a Black Company during World War II, and then he became commandant of an Afrika Korps Prisoner of War Camp.

When I re-enlisted in 2007 women were part of the force, not marginal. By the time I left women were being accepted in combat leadership and gay soldiers served openly.

And then Trump was elected.

Since 2017 Trump has insulted the Joint Chiefs of Staff in the Pentagon, dismissed the intelligence chiefs in public in Helsinki just to kiss Putin's ass, insulted every NATO ally, betrayed the Kurds to suck up to the dictator in Turkey, pardoned a war criminal causing the Secretary of the Navy to resign and now he fires the Captain of an ship who tried to protect his sailors, then sends the new sycophant Secretary of the Navy to insult the Captain on his ship.

During those 44 years, the country went from hating the military to loving the military. Now Trump is bringing the military down to his own dishonorable level.

"Midway" Movie Shows How Great American Leadership Can Be

My son Nigel and I just finished watching the movie "Midway." I first saw it in a theater in Paris in November. I cried three times during the movie at the beginning listening to the voice of President Roosevelt, at end watching the dive bomber pilot Dick Best leave his ship in a wheelchair and in the middle watching the defiant death of gunner Bruno Gaudi.

This time I just teared up at the end.

My initial response to the movie, which begins with the attack on Pearl Harbor, was deep sadness listening to the President we had versus who runs the country now.

Today was the first time I saw the movie since the beginning of the pandemic. From Pearl Harbor to victory, America led the fight against Imperial Japan and Nazi Germany. Now we can't even nationalize the response to the virus, nor the distribution of medical supplies.

It was also more stark this time that the key to victory was the way Admiral Nimitz believed his intelligence officers and listened to evidence--not on idiotic gut feelings and wishes.

The movie has been criticized for using too many speeches both by the Japanese and American leaders. It is the starkest contrast with the movie "Dunkirk" which explains almost nothing and presumes great tactical and strategic knowledge on the part of the viewer.

If you watch the movie at home and don't like spectacular war scenes, fast forward through the fighting and listen to the conversations. It's a brilliant example of leadership at many levels on both sides of the battle.

The distance between President Roosevelt and the current President could be measured in light years.

"He Wood Ride Anything with Wheels"--Riding a bike made of ash wood up a 1000-meter climb

This bike is entirely made from ash wood including the seat and handlebars

It's not great for a 1000-meter climb on a switchback road.

Several times during my recent trip in Europe and Asia I switched my plans to avoid the places where the pandemic was currently worst.  I was in Athens when I was supposed to be in Rome.  It was a Sunday. The bike rental shops were closed. The only place I could rent a bike was at an upscale hotel that was connected to a local company that makes bikes from ash trees--fifty bikes per tree and then they plant fifty seedling trees for each tree they use. Here is their website.

The bikes are seven-speed, planetary hub city bikes.  Three miles away from my hotel was a 1000-meter high mountain in the middle of the city with several cell towers at the top. It was 60 degrees, sunny and I wanted to ride!  So I rented the wooden bike, raised the seat as high as I could and rode up the mountain.

At three miles up, the road got really steep and I had to walk a hundred meters, but then it leveled a little and I kept going.  The view was beautiful. Halfway up I looked back at the city and was looking down on the Acropolis.  Further up the road turned south and I was looking at the harbor and the Aegean Sea.  Near the top the switchback interval got shorter and the grade went above ten percent.  I gave up when I was looking at the base of the cell towers knowing I could get a steel bike with a triple crank the next day and ride to the top.

Along with its planetary gearset, the bike had a caliper brake on the front wheel, but a coaster brake in the rear. On the way down the mountain, riding into a couple of switchbacks I slid the rear wheel when I went to backpedal and braked instead. By the bottom I was used to it, but it made me realize that I backpedal on the way into sharp turns--some of the switchbacks were 180 degrees.

The road had few guardrails and many long, sheer drops. I thought if I had really screwed up with the coaster brake my epitaph could be:  "He Wood Ride Anything with Wheels."

Google maps is mostly wonderful, but occasionally just terrible.

Alligator or Crocodile: Google maps wanted me to find out in person!

Google maps is mostly wonderful, but occasionally just terrible.  I rented a car at the Athens airport and drove back to a hotel where I was staying. The hotel was six miles away in a little village.  For some reason, Google maps told me to leave the highway and take a dirt road to the hotel.  For almost a mile, I followed the road with an increasing sense of foreboding.  At first it was two very small cars wide, then narrower. 

Then it went from straight to winding. There were stray dogs on and near the road. Then the road turned slightly downhill.  Although Athens is mostly very hilly, the area near the airport is flat and occasionally marshy. Slightly downhill can be significant.

It was.  I rounded a corner and there was a puddle. A big puddle. A width of the road puddle. I stopped. I stared. In the light of a waxing moon, the puddle was black but illuminated by the lunar light.  I looked beside the puddle and saw no clear path. The puddle itself was smooth—not rocks or branches sticking up through the surface, so it was deep.  The Renault Clio I was driving had about three inches of ground clearance, I had one bar of cell service, so I turned around and went back to the highway. 

Google tried to get me to turn around and go back to the impromptu alligator habitat, but I kept driving on the highway until it recalculated me a route on pavement.  Or was it crocodiles?

Persistent Pitch Men and Women in front of Athens Restaurants

Restaurant row in Athens.  Each restaurant has a 
pitch man or woman saying some version of "Eat here!"

Between my hotel and Athens and the place I rented bikes was a block of restaurants. They were side by side competing for tourists who could only eat so many meals.  My favorite coffee place was also at the far end of the line, so I passed restaurant row several times a day for three days.

Outside each of the restaurants was a hawker.  A man or woman who would say, “Eat here. Authentic Greek food. Or pizza if you want.” I passed by. Crossing the narrow street to the opposite sidewalk was no help.  Some of the times I was walking by I was wearing spandex—not a fashion choice of anyone else that I could see. 

Finally, the last night I wanted to eat a pizza, so I went in the restaurant with a tall, bearded guy doing the pitches and ordered pizza and water. 

When I left, I had to pass by a half-dozen other hawkers. One of them, a short, intense woman in her forties said, “Why did you go to his place? What did they offer you? Was it free beer? They give free beer.”

I was going to keeping walking, then I stopped and said, “They gave me a brand-new car. They gave me a 2020 Renault Clio.” 

She looked stunned for a minute then recovered and said, “What else?” Then the woman hawking for the restaurant beside hers, a taller woman in her late 20s, smiled and said, “Yes, what else did they give you?” 

I said, “Two motorcycles. A Ducati Monster and Honda CBR1000.”

She said, “You better be careful and not drink too much if you are riding those bikes.” 

I said I drank a whole bottle of sparkling water and would not touch the bikes till morning.  She smiled. The first woman forced a smile. Clearly, she had a side bet going about whether the old guy in spandex would ever eat in one of their restaurants.