Tom Watson

Oh Me of Little Faith

After witnessing a year of dithering - and watching those brutal months of lethargy leading to the infamous Lost Summer of 2009 - I never thought that President Obama and the Democrats would get revolutionary healthcare reform done.

And they didn't.

But they did pass sweeping health insurance regulation, a historic development that may - just may - be the first step in a true reconsideration of the American "system" for providing healthcare, a movement that should widen the social safety net, improve care, encourage business and help us all get closer to our promise as a nation.

Led by an energized Barack Obama, who clearly realized that his Presidency rode on the outcome and that his hands-off strategy simply wasn't working, Democrats passed the biggest extension of that safety net in the last four decades. In taking the risk and riding boldly at the head of his troops, Obama largely secured his domestic legacy and energized his political base - which happens to be diverse and opinionated and loud (who'd want it any other way). He also set the the table in political terms for other signature Democratic goals: immigration reform, environmental legislation, and much-needed financial services reform.

Six months ago, I was among the legions of progressives who were down on Obama - but I've watched him fight back since just before Christmas with a growing sense of admiration and excitement. The President is easy to admire for his tone, his intelligence, and his personal story; it's the tenacity I doubted (along with the skills of the White House staff). But as they say on the game shows, "Johnny, tell Tom about his consolation prizes."

I may still believe that a concerted effort from the day after the election through the first 100 days could have yielded real, broad, structural healthcare reform - and I may not entirely admire the shape and substance of the much-kneaded legislation - but I cannot argue that this bill isn't an accomplishment of stunning political proportion.

If the passage of the healthcare bill has raised the President a tick or two on this cynic's politicometer, then Speaker Nancy Pelosi has surged from the bottom to well above eye level.

With the kind of counterclockwise arm-twisting martial arts motion the experts refer to as "Tae Kwan LBJ," Pelosi bullied the package across the line, one hacky-sack Congressman at a time. In John Boehner, who seems to have dyed his face in strange oppositional tribute to the DailyKos, Pelosi faced a counterpart who held total control over his caucus. OK, I'm exaggerating. Boehner just repeated the talking points from Glenn Beck, Rush Limbaugh, and Sean Hannity that all the Tea Party, er, that is to say, Republican representatives did. Who can forget those wonderful handmade signs on the balcony of the minority leader's office - such artistic talent, such sharpie skillsets! And those wingtips - don't get me started.

But this post is not about the GOP. They speak for themselves and their word is "no."

It's about those rock 'em, sock 'em Democrats. As Lance Mannion says - and who am I to disagree - "nothing like this has happened in my memory." And it's true.

So it's on to immigration, I hope. As Al Giordano wrote this week: "It is unconscionable that twelve million people – children, elders, workers, homemakers – in the United States of America are left defenseless and persecuted for simply existing."

No kidding, and maybe - just maybe - the political wind is at the Democrats' backs. I agree with Bill Clinton's counsel to Congressional Democrats from last fall - winning breeds winning. And the early post-passage polls bear it out. I suspect the fall won't bring Blue Dog Armageddon for the Dems - but their do-nothing obstructionism against a President who was more-than-willing to deal may well damage the Republicans for quite a while (and I'm not alone, even among conservatives).

But today, I'm newly-baptized in the faith of progressive legislative process (and let's give a shout-out to left-wing bloggers who needled and bugged and pushed the President and Congress). So I'm breaking out my old Mao T-shirt and cussin' like Vice President Biden. This hopey change thing seems to be workin' out just fine right now.

Tea Party Anthem: Can You See the Real Me?

The Tea Party crowd has finally found the marrow. With Congress set for the dramatic weekend passage of a fairly undramatic reform package on some aspects of the health insurance industry, the vocal right-wing fringe descended on Capitol Hill crying socialism, threatening gun violence, mocking gay people, shouting racist epithets and hurling spittle on elected representatives.

The full-on freak of the right, goaded by Elmer Gantry fascists like Glenn Beck, Rush Limbaugh, and Sean Hannity, would be entertaining if it didn't carry the explicit promise of violence. At the conservative blog Political Byline, one blogger seems to discern a reason for the defamatory and despicable behavior in Washington:

I mean, and I how to do I put this? Ah, I know! The liberal media and I mean the one’s who are reporting this; You should be glad it was just words. I mean, it could have very well been worse. Luckily and thankfully, it was not. But it could have very well have been. So, to the Race hustlers and Gay Blades; be glad it was just words, signs and insults. Because the alternative could have been much worse.

But again, to the more important point —– What the hell do you people expect? I mean, you want to destroy this Country’s health-care system, all to fulfill a stupid, idiotic socialist agenda; and you wonder why some people are pissed off about it?

Yeah, they're asking for it - for spit, for "faggot," and for a bullet.

There are two forces driving the tea party protesters, outside of encouragement by the insurance industry and the conservative radio entertainers: ignorance and bigotry. And yet it's not all that surprising. Darren Lenard Hutchinson keeps his perspective, as we should keep ours:

Homophobia and racism are pervasive social forces, and fear and anxiety often bring out the worst biases in people. Hence, these developments, though quite disturbing, are not shocking. Furthermore, the Tea Party movement began its healthcare protests in a circus-like atmosphere; apparently, things will remain that way until the bitter end.

Women in the World: Bravery in the Pursuit of Power

Women in the World, which unfolded this weekend at the historic Hudson Theater just east of Times Square - where Arsenic and Old Lace made its Broadway debut in 1941 - was the energetic vision of one of New York's most connected women. Tina Brown, proprietor of The Daily Beast (where I occasionally contribute), assembled this town's old guard media tribe and then some: Barry Diller, Barbara Walters, Katie Couric, Christiane Amanpour, Diane Sawyer, and Charlie Rose mingled with Queen Rania of Jordan, Meryl Streep, Madeline Albright, Donna Karan, Nora Ephron and the ever-present Diane Von Furstenberg.

"My hope is that it will help grow this important message of economic empowerment for women as the key to prosperity, and help spread this message around the world," Brown told USA Today.

Bringing together what Brown referred to as "lioness leaders" in the cause of telling stories, getting prominent people (including corporate and media types) more involved, and building a movement. Yet this movement clearly dates to 1995, when Hillary Clinton famously told the UN's. Fourth World Conference on Women that "women's rights are human rights." Yet it's a decade and a half down the road, and the horrors that women endure in fields of conflict, throughout the developing world, and just down the block continue to shock and sicken on almost a daily basis. Just a day before Women in the World opened, a young woman was savagely beaten in the bathroom of a clb only a few blocks from the Hudson Theater - reportedly for refusing the dance with the man now charged with her attempted murder.

"Sexual terrorism" carries different meanings in different settings - yet it's the terrorism part of the phrase that should get more attention. Gender itself is so vast, so seemingly non-organizable. It was no accident that Brown named the Daily Beast's conference Women in the World; "of" is untenable, yielding more of a soft-touch 1964 World's Fair exhibit of a title than a call to action. No, this gathering, for all its glamor, had a sharp point with a barbed tip. The barb that stayed caught was the quest for political and economic power. Time and again at Women in the World, I heard speakers talk about meaningful participation in governance and the world economy. This was a gathering of women not content with traditional philanthropy and corporate hand-outs, with slogans and ribbons and rubber bracelets.

Yet story-telling is so important. One of the real highlights was an evocative reading (directed by Julie Taymor) of Seven, a play that is a collaboration between Vital Voices and seven award-winning women playwrights, including that profiles seven women leaders from the Vital Voices' Global Leadership Network. Meryl Streep added Oscar-worthiness to the ensemble cast, which also featured Marcia Gay Harden, Shohreh Aghdashloo, Stephanie Okereke, Archie Panjabi, Julyana Soelistyo, Lauren Vélez. Over 90 minutes, Seven moves its protagonists from the desperation and powerlessness to activism and achievement. But the overarching theme isn't organizing - it's bravery.

From Inez McCormack, a civil rights leader in Northern Ireland (portrayed by Streep with humor and a believable Ulster brogue), to my personal hero, Mukhtar Mai of Pakistan, who was played effectively by Aghdashloo, the willingness to court more violence in the pursuit of justice pervades the reading of Seven, whose stories were subtly propelled by sparse sound effects and strong photograpic images on the large screen behind the actors. Seven women, speaking for billions. Seven stories to mobilize half of humanity.

Yet in chatting with Rebecca Lolosoli just before the reading of Seven, I was struck by how quickly village-level organizing can attain a bigger profile - and with it, more of a say in the halls of power. Rebecca is the founder and director of the Umoja Uaso Women’s Village, a community of survivors fleeing domestic abuse and arranged marriages in Kenya. She wears the brilliant colors and beaded necklace of the Samburu and, though Vital Voices, has become a recognized voice for changing traditions that make women into victims. We were talking about the violence in Kenya, and she said that real political power remains elusive.

This echoed the words of Suraya Pakzad, executive director of Voice of Women, which provides women in Afghanistan with shelter, counseling and job training. "Don't think of women's issues as a project - women are not a program," she told a panel on women in Afghanistan and Pakistan. Pakzad, who courageously risks her life to run her shelters, argued that women belong at the table for peace talks. And this echoed the top global issue facing women identified by a coalition of leaders who gathered last fall in Florence under the Vital Voices banner: Lack of political will and accountability.

That technology can help even the playing field is taken as an issue of faith at gatherings like Women in the World. And indeed, the growth of cell phones and networked organizing is changing the landscape quite a bit. As I wrote in the Daily Beast last week: "The systemic challenges facing billions of women in the developing world defy easy, clickable solutions. Yet from linking remote villages via increasingly ubiquitous mobile-phone messaging to improved water safety and cooking tools, technological innovations are changing the lives of women and their families for the better, around the world."

I heard many people say over the weekend that the network really matters to them - the ability to connect women in remote developing regions to colleagues in NGOs, corporations, and government provides a shorter path to recognition. Cherie Blair talked about her partnership with the GSMA association of mobile operators to get inexpensive phones into the hands of more women in developing nations, where there remains a demonstrable technology gap between the genders. But technology can also bear witness. At Women in the World, the word "Congo" bore as much emotional power as "Katrina" or "9/11" do for many in the U.S. and the reason to me seemed clear: horrific cell phone images of the victims of infamous mass rape.

"Congo" has become short-hand for sexual terrorism.

Yes, images do matter. In introducing Seven, U.S. Secretary of State Hillary Clinton told the story of her recent visit to Guatemala and the request of an American diplomat there when she met with a a civil rights leader. The ambassador's request to Secretary Clinton was simple: take picture with her. "They're trying to kill her." A photo with one of the world's most famous and powerful women carries some power. "Here's a woman who is putting everything there is on the line."

The story provided the perfect lead-in to Seven, which is about women who have done just that - and with success. Yet Secretary Clinton warned that "extremist voices against women's rights are growing louder." And she took a moment to update the language of her 1995 declaration:

"Women's progress," she said, "is human progress."

Reyes of Sunshine

Over at A Train Baseball (where you really should be a regular) the Mets Fans Suicide Hotline is now open. Shortstop Jose Reyes has a hyperthyroid condition and long-suffering fans have a hyperpanicked reaction: "...the Mets season appears to be headed toward another broken tumble into the baseball region known as lower mediocrity. Some call it Pittsburgh…but expensive."

reBlog from atrainbaseball.com: Straw: ‘86 Mets Beat the ‘09 Yanks

Join the discussion over at A Train Baseball:

So Darryl Strawberry knows how to start an argument at any New York watering hole. Says the Straw: your 1986 Mets were better than the 2009 World Champion Yankees. [h/t Mets Police]atrainbaseball.com, Straw: ‘86 Mets Beat the ‘09 Yanks, Mar 2010

You should read the whole article.

The Baseball Quotient

A long hard winter followed a long and difficult year, and - as Lance Mannion so eloquently puts it - stress takes its toll: "When our thinking gets un-well, our bodies feel it.  We get sick."

And so we turn to baseball, that game of inches and carefully measured feet that perfectly branded its rules and rhythms on us as children. The simple and basic plays, the sounds and smells of the game (even in upscale new stadiums), the thinking and strategy between pitches and innings.

And spring. Pitchers and catchers. Intrasquad games. Exhibition tilts. That sure-fire prospect or the comebacking starter who all the writers say "is throwing the heavy ball this spring." Sandy Koufax trying to fix Ollie Perez's delivery and his psyche - the mission impossible. Yet we're back and despite the gathering darkness on the landscape, we're pulled toward the game once again - even the steroids and supplements and salaries can't turn off the baseball habit.

This year, Jason Chervokas and I are adding a new pitch: we've soft-launched A Train Baseball, a new blog dedicated to New York baseball, from the turn the 20th century to the match-ups for tomorrow's game. Here's how the pitch arrives:

A Train Baseball is a new website dedicated to New York baseball, from 1900 to tomorrow’s game. If you like Oscar Gamble, Cleon Jones, Strat-O-matic, real stirrups, stories about John J. McGraw, Reyes triples, Jeter professionalism, Seaver fastballs, Ruthian clouts and pinstripes in two shades – well, pull up a bar stool and join the conversation.

We're not completists, and we're not stat hounds or hard-core fantasy gamers; you can get that elsewhere. In some ways, we're romantics when it comes to baseball - we actually, kinda, sorta believe in the daily redemption available at a distance of sixty feet six inches. So expect a range of posts.

We'd love to see you over there. And that pic? That's our blog mascot: one Charles Dillon "Casey" Stengel, circa 1914 with the Brooklyn Dodgers. Says it all.

A Death in the Blogging Family

The great Jon Swift has died. That's the "blogging" angle to a personal tragedy. In reality, the voice of Jon Swift - the hilarious faux conservative blogger whose talent and passion were evident in every post - belonged to Al Weisel, a sweet and good-natured journalist who happened to be the college roommate of my once-and-future collaborator Jason Chervokas.

I didn't know him well, but Al graciously agreed to be part of my little newcritics experiment of a couple of years back and his presence at some of our New York gatherings was generous, friendly, and low key - though the humor could sometimes be appropriately biting.

Al was on the way to his father's funeral in Virginia when he suffered a sudden aortic aneurysm and underwent several surgeries in an attempt to save his life. Sadly, they did not succeed.

Heartbreakingly, Al's mother has posted this comment to the Jon Swift blog, unmasking the true identify of her brilliant son - and yes, he was a blogging super-hero to many of us.

I don't know how else to tell you all who love this blog. I am Jon Swift's Mom and I guess I'm going to OUT him. He was Al Weisel, my beloved son. Al was on his way to his father's funeral in VA when he suffered 2 aortic aneurysms, a leaky aortic valve and an aortic artery dissection from his heart to his pelvis. He had 3 major surgeries within 24 hours and sometime during those surgeries also suffered a severe stroke. We, his 2 sisters, his brother, his partner and his best friend since he was 9 years old were with him as he took his last breath. We have all lost a shining start who warmed our hearts, tormented us and made us laugh as he giggled at our pulling something over on us. He passed away on February 27, 2010. My beloved child will live on in so many hearts. I miss him more than I can say. If you are on Facebook, go to organizations and join "Friends of Al Weisel, Unite!" It will give you just a taste of how special he was. Farewell, Jon (Al)

Al Weisel was the political poser's worst enemy as Jon Swift, but he was also a good guy to hang around the pub with and commiserate over New York's shrinking freelance rates. Gone all too soon, he'll be truly missed by many.

UPDATE: There's a Facebook group.

UPDATE II: Fine remembrances online - Jason, who knew him best among our group, because he knew him youngest. Please stop by his place and leave a comment; here's a bit:

In the nearly 30 years that I knew Al I didn't see him much--once or twice a year maybe, during some decades less, during some decades more. My sense of Al was that for him intimacy and emotion were never easy but there was something about our rare occasional conversations that I cherished deeply, and it was precisely the easy intimacy that results from sharing life events during those tender years when the vulnerable parts are all exposed no matter how well we think we're hiding them. I know that is the kind of friendship I'll never have the chance to develop again, so on a purely selfish level I'll miss Al more than probably he would have known.

Speaking of hiding things-- keeping secrets, was definitely one of Al's most treasured inner pastimes. For years, literally years, he would remind me with agitation about something I had written in the early Internet days to the effect that we've basically given up our privacy in the modern age anyway so why concern ourselves with protecting it online. Privacy, even secrecy, remained for Al a deeply cherished notion. I've been reading many of the blog posts eulogizing Al's Jon Swift persona. I know Al was proud of Jon Swift, perhaps a little frustrated by his inability to make it pay off in a kind of Matt Drudgey way. He certainly was gleeful about poking fun at conservative group think (sometimes the line between his parodies and the non-parodic statements of actual conservatives was indecipherable), and his malicious, gleeful, nervous laugh will be sorely missed. But I keep wondering, reading the Swift mourning, how many personae Al really had and who among his family, friends and lovers actually knew all of Al?

And James Wolcott really captured the Al Weisel that some of us came to know from New York gatherings of writers:

I met Al/Jon at the New Critics parties that Tom refers to, and he was a quietly intense guy, not in a bad way, but with a driven quality enabled him to devour all sorts of conservative craziness and alchemize it into comedy set-pieces dense with specifics but never losing their coherent purpose. There was always a "through-line" to his longer posts that had the electric hum of a third rail.

He was also the co-author of a lively book about James Dean and the making of Rebel Without a Cause, Live Fast, Die Young. I didn't have the sense Al/Jon lived too fast, but he definitely died too young.

Watching the spreadin profusion of links and tweets and comments this afternoon, it's amazing how many lives Al Weisel touched in his quietly intense way - mainly through the gift of his writing.

UPDATE III: Other heart-felt posts that should be read and commented on by friends in the blogging community:

Kathleen Maher

Blue Girl

Melissa McEwan

skippy the bush kangaroo