Thinking About the Children

I was reading my local newspaper the other day and came upon an article that really bothered me. It was about the president of the College Republicans at Boston University: he was bragging that he had called ICE to report some workers at a nearby car wash for being "criminals" who have "no right to be here." He seemed almost gleeful about the fact that ICE did in fact raid the car wash, and the workers had been arrested. He expressed his hope that this would happen to more of them, since they were taking away American jobs, he said, concluding with an exhortation to ICE to "Pump up the numbers."  

Of course, there were several problems with the young man's version of events, the most notable one being that there was no evidence the men were "criminals." In fact, there was no evidence they were here illegally. He just saw them, noted their ethnicity, and made the assumption they didn't belong here. (As it turned out, the car wash manager and the attorneys for several of the men noted they were here legally, but it didn't matter. They were still arrested and detained.) And proving that irony isn't dead, the young man who was gloating about their plight was himself an immigrant, from England. Was he taking away the opportunity for an American student to attend Boston University? Who can say?   

As you know, I've been a professor for more than three decades, and whenever I encounter college students behaving badly, my first thought is  "What kind of parents does this kid have?" I understand that when kids go away to school, they can pick up some new beliefs. But often, these kids are still reflecting the attitudes they learned at home. Perhaps his parents are saints and they always taught him kindness. But then again, perhaps not. I do think it's worth asking where this kid got the idea that one should rejoice in another's misfortune. And where did he get the idea that every person with darker skin than his must surely be a "criminal"? This seems like a useful conversation to have.

I've lamented in other posts what I see as a lack of courtesy in the culture at large: kids (of all ages) who don't say please or thank you, kids who seem to feel that they are entitled to a good grade, kids who think it's okay to mock and bully anyone who is different. Maybe they see this sort of behavior from their elders and think it must be okay. Lord knows there is plenty of rudeness and nastiness online; and in real life, I'm sure we've all run into folks who take out their bad mood on anyone around them. (I was at a coffee shop recently and I saw someone yell at the clerk because there wasn't any Sweet and Low. As a cancer survivor, I thought to myself that if the worst thing in this person's life is a lack of Sweet and Low, their life ain't so bad...)

Meanwhile, I really hope that parents in general are taking the time to teach their kids courtesy. And I also hope they are teaching their kids it's never okay to be scornful or judgmental about anyone who is different. We seem to be living in a world when some folks think cruelty towards "the other" should be praised; but it's not too late to let kids know that compassion is a good quality, and making assumptions about people you don't know is no way to live your life. I've never met the kid who was bragging that he got some immigrants arrested, but as I said, gloating over another's problems is not a good look for anyone. And while I've never met his parents either, all I can say is, "Teach your children well," because parents are often the first role models kids have, and kids will emulate what the grown-ups around them say and do. 

 

World In Changes

As I'm writing this, it's Halloween, and only 4 kids showed up at our house for Trick-or-Treat. The entire neighborhood has been strangely quiet, in fact, which I find very puzzling. We live in a typical middle-class neighborhood, about twenty minutes south of Boston, and every year, we usually get a good-sized crowd of kids coming by for Halloween candy. But not this year. 

I wonder if people are feeling stressed out. A lot of my friends have told me that's how they feel, and with good reason. I mean, things are certainly much more expensive these days-- and that includes Halloween candy. Grocery prices haven't come down either. (Sometime, we can debate the great results tariffs were supposed to bring: I'm just not seeing any.) Meanwhile, a lot of people are getting laid off, or only able to find part-time work: maybe they can't get time off to take their kids out, or maybe there's no money to buy costumes, or maybe there's some other reason that Trick-or-Treating was postponed this year. 

Okay, here's another possibility: 18-20% of the city where I live in comprised of immigrants-- from China, Vietnam, India, and Middle Eastern countries like Morocco and Pakistan. Maybe people are afraid to let their kids go out Trick-or-Treating. Maybe they've gotten the message that they are no longer welcome here: they've seen images on TV of immigrants getting accosted for no apparent reason, and they fear it could happen to them. I have to admit I still can't get used to seeing law enforcement officials wearing masks. But then, I still can't get used to law enforcement officials zip-tying little kids, or arrested 13 year olds, or knocking women to the ground, or any of the other things they've been doing, seemingly with impunity. 

I have some friends who don't even like Halloween: they think it goes against Biblical principles and they don't want their kids to participate in it. But for everyone else, Halloween used to be just another fun time when kids (and even some adults) could dress up, go out in their costumes, and visit the neighbors, getting free candy wherever they went. I'm sure there are still many places where that is happening. For example, I live near Salem, the so-called "Witch City," where tourists come from all over the US to dress up in costume-- the more creative the better. In Salem, all is fine. But in many other cities, this year's holiday seems a far cry from what went on in years past. 

I'm a big believer in keeping children innocent. There's a lot of unkindness and bigotry and hatred in society, and it would be nice if children didn't have to hear their ethnic group referred to in racial slurs. It would be nice if children didn't have to worry about classmates (or their parents) being suddenly taken away by ICE. It would be nice if children didn't have to watch masked agents grabbing people up, often without any explanation. It would be nice if children could just have fun, and go to school, and look forward to celebrating whatever holidays there are. And whatever the reason why the streets in many cities were silent and empty this year, it's a sad commentary on where we are as a country, and a sad commentary on what we are teaching our children. 

  

The Room Where It Happened: Some Thoughts About Rush's Rock Hall Announcement

 

Note: People who first saw this on several social media sites asked if I'd put it into my blog. Here it is.

 

It all started on Thursday night, right after Yom Kippur ended. I am not online during the Day of Atonement, and so, I missed the message from Geddy's management. When I read it late that night, the message was cryptic: basically, could I keep a secret and could I be in Cleveland on Sunday night? I responded that yes, I could do both things. And the next thing I knew, I had my itinerary and I was headed for Cleveland. Why? I was not told. Just that there was a private event at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, and Geddy & Alex wanted me to introduce them when they did their Q&A with Geoff Edgers, a journalist friend of mine from the Washington Post.

 

Turns out I was not the only one who didn't know what the event was about. Most of the select few who were invited didn't know either. It was a special event, by invitation only, and some of us thought it was about Geddy & Alex making a donation to the Rock Hall. Another journalist I knew (Annie Z, who was with me in Boston for R40 back in 2015) suggested she had heard a rumor that the guys were going to announce some live concerts; but again, nothing had been confirmed. So, I showed up, prepared to introduce them and happy to attend-- whatever the news was. I quickly got the impression it was something big when all the attendees were told to hand in their phones and sign NDAs. So, probably not an event about a donation.

 

I was brought backstage, where Geddy greeted me warmly. We hugged, and we talked some baseball-- we're both fans, and he was delighted that the Blue Jays had defeated the Yankees (he was watching the last few minutes of the game). Alex came over too, and we joked around a little. But we didn't discuss the reason for event-- just what they wanted me to do (give a 5 minute speech and then toss things over to Geoff, Alex and Geddy). Before I left Boston, I had dug out my 1974 WMMS t-shirt (it still fit me)-- it seemed appropriate to wear it to the Rock Hall, given the seminal role WMMS played in Rush's history (and mine); it got some positive attention from some of the folks backstage. 

 

So, after watching the footage from Rush's 2013 induction, I went up to the stage. I got a very nice response from the audience, which I appreciated. And I gave my heartfelt tribute to the band and to all the loyal fans who had supported them (I was disappointed later that the Rock Hall video chopped my speech, leaving just one minute, but hey, it was not about me; it was about Rush, and I was honored they wanted me there). And then, like just about everyone else, I watched as they announced that they had decided to return to making music and they had chosen a drummer, and they were going to do a few concerts to honor Neil's memory and play the songs the fans loved. I got the impression that the love and loyalty of the fans played a big role in the decision. I also got the impression that Geddy had really missed performing, and that the Taylor Hawkins benefit really awakened something in both Geddy and Alex, regarding the possibility of performing together again and honoring Neil. But in typical courteous fashion, the two contacted Neil's widow, Carrie, to see if she was on board with their intentions. She was.

 

Few of us knew that the guys had been working with a drummer already (a very talented and highly-recommended drummer named Anika Nilles). The chemistry had to be right, and evidently they all feel comfortable working together. I admit I wasn't entirely surprised to hear the guys say they were going to tour: so often, people say they will "never" do [whatever] again; but years pass, and suddenly, it seems okay. I think of the Eagles, who broke up in a very acrimonious way. One member famously said they'd reunite "when Hell freezes over." They ended up calling their reunion tour the "When Hell Freezes Over Tour." But Rush never parted acrimoniously. Alex and Geddy remained friends. They kept in touch. They jammed together. But it took a while to put enough time between losing Neil and thinking of the future.

 

After the event, Geddy and Alex and I chatted backstage. Geddy said he hadn't even told all of his family members yet-- the decision was that recent. And they both agreed a limited tour was sensible for now: while they've taken care of themselves, they are in their early 70s, and as Geddy acknowledged, he needed to know how touring would affect their bodies and their health. As for me, I'm happy for them, whatever they decide to do. They are wonderful people and if making music brings them joy, why shouldn't they do it? I'm certain the fans are ecstatic about the prospect of seeing them play live. And I'm looking forward to it too. And to everyone in the extended Rush community, know that the guys care deeply about the fans. As I've said, I am convinced that this new tour is a by-product of the fact that so many fans still love Rush; and giving them some new shows is one way to show that love is reciprocated.

Keeping Us Safe from Cat Stevens

What I remember about the incident was the outrage it inspired. A lot of people were really angry about what he said. People had loved his music, and bought so many of his records, but then, suddenly it didn't matter. Suddenly, people could not forgive him; they were demanding that all of his records be banned and that he never be allowed to come to the United States again. It was March of 1966, and John Lennon of the Beatles had said in an interview that the Beatles were more popular than Jesus. I think I knew what he meant-- it was a somewhat flippant comment about the nature of fame and how influential rock stars were with young people. But in the Bible Belt, it was considered blasphemy, and they took it as an attack on their faith. Some radio stations stopped playing Beatles records, some even held public events where Beatles records were burned. Lennon did get to travel to the US on numerous occasions, and eventually became a permanent US resident; but there were some people who never forgave him for what he had said.   

Fast forward to February 1989. Cat Stevens, who had so many hits in the early 70s, great songs like "Peace Train" and "Wild World" (and an album track I always loved, "Father and Son"), had converted to Islam in late 1977 and walked away from his music career. He became very fervent in his beliefs, and at a forum at a London university, where he was giving his views on world events, he was asked about controversial author Salman Rushdie, whose book was deemed blasphemous by religious Muslims. Rushdie had been put under a fatwa by Ayatollah Khomeini, who called for his death. Stevens, now known as Yusuf Islam, seemed to agree that anyone who blasphemes the Prophet Muhammad was indeed deserving of death. And when the New York Times reported that the former singer had been approving of the fatwa, many of his (now former) fans were appalled. Stevens seemed to realize he had expressed himself very badly, because he tried to clarify his remarks almost immediately, explaining that he was just describing the sentence for blasphemy in Islam, but he was not calling for Rushdie's death. Many people saw this as a distinction without a difference, and even years later, they couldn't forgive him.

Fast forward to 2025. Yusuf Islam became a lot more moderate as the years passed, and today, as Yusuf Cat Stevens, he continues to try to explain what he said, what he meant, and what he believed back in 1989, compared to where his spiritual journey has taken him since. For years, he has lived a peaceful life, eventually coming back to his music (after years of not playing it), but some fans have never forgiven him; by many accounts, Rushdie hasn't forgiven him either. And now, more than 35 years later, the US government is also unwilling to forgive him. He has a new book and was planning to tour some US cities, discussing his life and playing some of his songs. But the tour had to be cancelled because he was unable to get a visa. 

We are living in a time when lots of famous people, are getting in trouble for making statements that are perceived as controversial. When Republican activist Charlie Kirk died, comedian Jimmy Kimmel made some remarks that were perceived as offensive by Kirk's supporters, and he also mocked the president at the same time; the president and the chair of the FCC were furious and suggested that ABC needed to take some action. So, Kimmel was suspended, while outraged conservative commentators demanded he be fired. On the other hand, many folks debated whether what he said merited a suspension and the precedent it set for the government to imply that a network would be in trouble if the president disliked what someone on TV had said. He was back on the air several days later, but the debate continues.            

And here we are, in a media universe where it's easy to stir up outrage, and where people can hold onto grudges for decades. So, are we better off because Yusuf Cat Stevens can't tour America? Are we better off that a comedian can be suspended for something he said to displease the current administration? Back in late September 2001, after comedian Bill Maher made controversial remarks (leading to his show being cancelled), then-president George W. Bush's press secretary Ari Fleischer reminded everyone to "watch what they say, watch what they do." I found that chilling advice then, and I find it a very frightening prospect now. I may not agree with certain views, but the threat that they'll be banned worries me a lot. I doubt I'd attend Yusuf Cat Stevens' talk, but he ought to have the right to deliver it. I mean, how long do we hold what someone said against them? And who decides which views are permissible? That, my friends, is the question.    

Lenny Doesn't Live Here Anymore

I remember where I was the day that Lenny Zakim died. It was a Thursday, and I was driving home from work, and when the news came over the radio that he had lost his battle with cancer, I remember screaming out "No!" So many of us had admired Lenny. He was the kind of guy who loved a challenge; and no matter how bad a situation might seem, he would usually find a way to turn things around. You didn't want to count Lenny out. You didn't want to bet against him. So, when we heard he had cancer, we kept hoping that somehow he'd turn this around too. I mean, if anyone could beat cancer, it was Lenny. But sad to say, there was no happy ending this time. Lenny was only 46 when he died on December 2, 1999. I still miss him. 

But in his short life, he did some remarkable things. In his obit, which ran in newspapers nationwide, the headline often read "Leonard Zakim, 46; Promoted Racial Unity and Tolerance." That was an understatement. Lenny came to Boston from Jersey. Back when he got here in the late 1970s, Boston had been going through periods of racial and religious tensions. He was hired by the Anti-Defamation League in 1979 as its New England Director for Civil Rights (he would later rise to be the organization's Executive Director), and he went to work trying to bring people together. That was his superpower-- the ability to bring together folks who were initially suspicious or mistrusting and get them to collaborate to make Boston a better place to live.

He started an annual Black-Jewish Passover seder, that brought together community members from Boston's Black and Jewish communities; it grew in popularity and other cities emulated it. He brought together faith leaders from Catholic and Protestant traditions and worked with them to tackle antisemitism. He worked hard to improve Catholic-Jewish relations in Boston: in fact, his efforts were so successful, and so inspirational, that he was awarded the Order of St. Gregory by Pope John Paul II (if I'm not mistaken, Lenny was the first Jew ever given this medal). And while Lenny's political views leaned Democratic, he had friends who were conservative Republicans, because that's how Lenny was. In fact, when he died, his funeral was attended by thousands, from just about every walk of life.

Sometimes, when I'm driving home, I still think about Lenny and I wonder what he would make of our hateful and contentious politics, the refusal of each side to see the humanity in the other, the willingness of far too many to insult and mock and demonize, rather than getting together to tackle the problems our society still has. But then, it's a matter of leadership, isn't it? Lenny was a leader. He found ways to bring people together. Surely, we need someone like that, now more than ever. But sad to say, Lenny is gone, and few in leadership positions seem committed to doing what he did. In Boston, they named a bridge after him, because after all, he was all about building bridges. And each time I drive across it, that's what I miss the most: leaders who want to turn down the volume of our angry discourse and give people a chance to collaborate. Leaders who want to promote understanding and tolerance, rather than mistrust and outrage. Leaders who want to build bridges... like Lenny did.     

Doing What You Love

I had lunch earlier today with some of the members of a wonderful Rush tribute band from New Jersey called A Farewell to Kings. As you might expect, we talked about all things Rush, but we also talked about the importance of following your dream and doing what you love.

Like other tribute bands, including the stellar Massachusetts-based Lotus Land, the guys in AF2K hold down other jobs during the week. But on many weekends, you can find them performing at venues throughout the northeast, making fans happy and keeping the music of Rush alive. It's not the easiest life in the world: there is a lot of driving, a lot of practicing, and I'm sure some venues are better than others. I'm also sure the guys are not getting rich doing these gigs. But more often than not, the enthusiastic crowds make up for those inconveniences. After all, when you're doing what you love, it's gratifying to know that others appreciate you for doing it.  

But this blog post isn't just about Rush tribute bands. There are many folks out there who are also following their dream and doing what they love. School is starting in many parts of the US this week, and many children will be starting kindergarten. Some will be nervous or apprehensive about their first day of school, while others will be excited and eager; but in all cases, the one thing that is consistent is they will be greeted by their teacher, who will encourage and reassure and welcome them. Few teachers in the US are paid what they deserve. In fact, most are seriously underpaid. But if you ask the average teacher, "Why do you do this work?", the reply is always "Because I love it."

Recently, a friend of mine decided to start taking some courses online; she's not pursuing a degree at this point-- she already has one. And she's not looking for a career change-- she likes her current job. So, why take courses? She told me she was eager to learn something new, to study something she was interested in but had never studied before. So, she signed up for a course in archaeology, and she is really enjoying it. "I've always loved to learn," she said to me, and as someone who got my PhD when I was 64, I could totally relate.

I'm sure that some of you who read this blog can also relate. Perhaps there is something you enjoy, and you do it not because it's lucrative, and not because it will bring you fame, but just because you love doing it. I do a lot of research about early baseball history, and I write articles about it. Most of the work is unpaid, but for me (and the others who do it), it's a labor of love, because there are so many great stories waiting to be told. My husband, who makes his living repairing computers, took up nature photography as a hobby a few years ago. He got pretty good at it and he has won several awards, but that isn't why he goes out seeking birds or flowers or butterflies to photograph. He loves to do it, plus he is preserving something interesting, something beautiful, that can be shared with others.

And in a world where so much around us seems chaotic or unpredictable or even depressing, there is often comfort in pursuing a dream, or doing something you love-- whether it's playing in a Rush tribute band, or reading little kids a story, or taking photos of nature, or studying archaeology. It doesn't have to make you rich, but it can help keep you grounded and remind you that even in difficult times, people still need the opportunity to seek out those moments of joy, and to cherish every one of them.   

Can We Handle the Truth?

Not many folks read my blog post from August 1, the one where I defended the importance of fact-checkers. I was disappointed, but not surprised. After all, we're living in a time when the very concept of objective truth is under attack. When I was growing up, I learned in school that some things were factual (yes, the Declaration of Independence was signed in 1776), and others were myths (no, the Founding Fathers never stated America should be a Christian nation). I learned how to use reliable sources when I did my research. I learned how to tell the difference between something that could be proved with credible evidence, and something that was just someone's opinion. And I learned to respect and rely upon people with years of expertise in their chosen field, as opposed to people who insisted they were right because... well, because they believed they were right.  

How times have changed. These days, even when some things are well-documented and accurate (for example, the earth really is round-- or, if you prefer, spheroid in shape) and others are frequently refuted and demonstrably false (the earth is not flat, although this was a popular belief until as late as the 1600s), there are still many people who insist the subject should be debated. Some folks are certain we never landed on the moon. Or they are convinced that serious diseases can be cured by purchasing some product they saw in a TikTok video. For some folks, not liking a fact is grounds enough to discount it. ("My preferred candidate lost, so therefore, the election must have been rigged"-- no matter how many investigations showed the election was conducted fairly and the other candidate got more votes.) And even though many years of evidence suggest that something is absolutely true, a growing number of people are convinced they don't have to believe it if they just feel it isn't true. 

Contributing to this problem is the rise of partisan media. As we become more and more polarized, we increasingly seek out sources that reinforce what we already believe. That's called confirmation bias, and I've mentioned it before. It's a big problem. In a world where the vast majority of us no longer share common sources of information, that means we no longer hear any views that challenge how we think, nor encounter other ways of looking at the issues. And whether it's science, or politics, or history, a growing number of folks just want to stay in their own bubble, never needing to confront any facts they don't like.

This makes it challenging to be an educator. When the president wants certain historical facts erased-- not because they didn't happen, but because he doesn't like the fact that they happened-- it becomes difficult to teach. Yes, slavery, and then segregation, went on in America for far too long. No, the fact that this happened was not a good thing, and forbidding teachers from discussing it (or insisting they put a positive spin on it) doesn't make it a good thing. Yes, America has lived through periods of time when racism or xenophobia or antisemitism flourished, often with encouragement from politicians and clergy. No, banning books about those periods of time doesn't mean those things didn't happen. And studying these issues doesn't mean you hate your country-- just like ignoring them doesn't make you patriotic.

I'm basically happy to be alive, and I try my best to be optimistic. But sometimes, I feel like we're living in perilous times, and I'm not sure what to do about it. It's a world where our leaders just want us to accept whatever they say, and where the truth isn't as important as vibes. It's a world where we are told that a protester who throws a sandwich at the police is a dangerous criminal, while a protester who attacked and vandalized the US Capitol on January 6, 2021 is a hero. There are federal troops on the streets of American cities, while men in masks grab up people who "look" suspicious, and we're told that this is perfectly normal. It's not the world I expected, and yet here we are. But when I try to discuss it, some folks tell me I'm just an alarmist. Or they tell me I'm too negative. Some folks insist there's no problem at all, even though to me, it certainly seems like there is. So, you tell me-- are we losing more and more of our freedoms, or is it just my imagination? After all, in a world where facts and truth are debatable, what I am seeing is probably just something else we can all debate-- until the day when debating is no longer allowed...