Assays

By sam lefkowitz

A collection of essays written over forty-plus years and published for the first time.    Reflections on America.  The struggle twixt faith and reason.  The war between democracy and capitalism.  

• Language: English
• Publisher: sam lefkowitz
• Release date: Mar 18, 2024
• ISBN: 9798223379362

Book preview

intro . . .

I spend a lot of time in my own mind. Thinking.

I assume everyone else does the same.

I do most of my thinking in words.  In order to get a handle on the humongous amount of information whirling round my brain.  I write.  I organize.  I compose my thoughts.

These assays were written for me.  They have never been shared or published.  They may read like I am talking to someone else, but I am just talking to myself.

Suddenly I find I no longer need them.  So I am sharing.  Maybe some of my thinking will be interesting.  Or entertaining.

Enjoy

snowy plovers . . .

I like fishing because it immerses me quietly in nature.  Lately I concentrate on coastal fishing in order to inhale the clean crisp air and the salt water taste.  The ocean hides so many mysteries.  If the earth is our mother then the sea is our grandmother.

The bait and wait techniques used by most fishermen does not provide the exercise I need and the slippery rocks and steep drops along most of my coast are difficult and dangerous at my age.  So I have concentrated on sandy beaches.  And lures instead of bait.

One of my favorite locations is a 2 mile stretch of sandy beach with a gentle slope.  It is  a state park and in the parking lot at the head of the trail to the beach there are three signs.  One says "NO CAMPING.  The second says DANGEROUS SURF. and the third says, NO DOGS ... SNOWY PLOVER NESTING SITE".

I was there early one morning searching for fish as the fog began to lift.  The entire beach to myself.  Casting my way south through the surf.  Suddenly, over the dunes burst two dogs and a man strolling leisurely behind. 

The dogs sprinted eagerly in one direction, then another, as dogs like to do.  The stroller, in straw brimmed hat, Hawaiian shirt and pony tail, smiled as he passed me and inquired, as does everyone who passes me on the beach, if I was having any luck.

I am forever reluctant to tell others of success for fear that it will corrupt my favorite haunts, so I responded as I usually do with a shake of the head and said something like nothing happening or no hits.  Then, pretending ignorance, I asked, "Doesn't the sign say 'No Dogs ... Snowy Plover Nesting Site'?

His friendly expression immediately changed and he replied sharply, Do you see any Plovers? 

I looked around and did not see any plovers. 

Smiling again he walked away exonerated from disturbing nesting plovers.

I will leave you there on the beach with me to think about it.

––––––––

On another day in the parking lot of that same beach, another encounter.

Having just returned from a long and fruitless outing my arm was thrown out and my feet aching.  I was sitting on my tailgate, hydrating, rinsing sand out of my gear and changing into dry footwear when this monster truck roars into the parking lot. 

Huge tires.  Two steps to reach the cab.  It parks and out climbs a young man tattooed everywhere, pierced  to the limit, and with hair both a cut and a color never before seen.  Behind him a motley mutt sticks his head out the window to follows his master's every move.  This kid walks over to the trail head and reads the sign.  On his way back he pauses and asks me, Are there any beaches that allow dogs?

Yes I answer, most of the others do.

He climbs back up into his monster wheels and roars off.

I will have to admit being totally repulsed by tattoos,  piercing, body mutilation.  I think of it as savage and can not separate it from the violence men do each other.  Until that encounter.

I thought I saw a punk.  Someone with contempt for established values.  Someone full of anti-authoritarian attitudes.  But this kids' behavior spoke of high moral character.  He read the sign, understood its intent and accepted its authority.  Even though no one was there to enforce the edict.

––––––––

That punk was a young me.  At his age I defied everyone to see what was inside me by my appearance.  I sacrificed a promising college career by refusing to cut my hair and wear the suit and tie.

Somewhere deep in my memory is a film clip of men in suits, the uniform that signifies conformity, lobbying the federal government for subsidies.  They claimed they were farmers but there was no dirt under their fingernails, no mud on their shoes, no deep creases in their faces from a lifetime of exposure to wind and sun.

They were bankers and financiers that owned farms. 

That made them farmers?

Give me a break.

If I owned a Stradivarius would that make me a violinist?

There is no art to find the mind's construction in the face.

pale in comparison . . .

The big buzz last cycle was Sarah Palin's decision to resigned her position as Governor of the State of Alaska to pursue a higher calling. 

Not President of the United States of America.  Not First Lady of an emerging Alaskan Nation.  

No.

Sarah will lead a crusade to the planet Mars on behalf of the Wasilla Assembly of God.   

Marshaling God's minions to a new land is a time honored tradition dating back to Moses.  And includes America's own Pilgrim Fathers. 

Today's evangelical congregations perceive the world as rapidly descending into moral decay.  Their scripture records God destroying a decadent civilization with a flood.  Maybe fire this time. 

Members of Wasilla's younger generation, exposed to the information age, were methodically deserting the true faith and a decision was necessary.  Church leaders concluded it is time to leave before the wrath of God descends again.  They searched for somewhere pure and clean to start over but nowhere on earth was devoid of human history.

These are not stupid people and they are fully aware that there are many obstacles to overcome.  But they are true believers who place faith before reason and believe God works miracles.

When the skeptical liberal media treats them like Roswell, Sarah will be the first to point out that most people thought Columbus would sail off the edge of a flat world.

Doom and gloom ministries around the world have proclaimed the exodus divinely inspired and pledged their support.  Conservative bloviators have declared it the perfect union of God and Reason.  And Prosperity Theologists are hedging their bets. 

Meanwhile politicians in our national capital burn the midnight oil searching for political advantage and cunning Wall St investors are preparing to target the momentum.

Islamic fundamentalists face similar problems with outdated scripture.  One Muslim holy man, Abu Ben Adam (though his love of God has been seriously questioned) praised God's greatness.

Pythia, the Oracle of Delphi renowned for precognition, has refused to post  the odds because there