Elmore Leonard, Robert Duvall, and a neglected corner

I enjoy Elmore Leonard.  His Westerns are mind candy, but with good grit.  I am grateful to him for getting me to pay more attention to Jose Marti, who showed up in the background of one of his stories.  I also think very highly of Robert Duvall, who played Boo Radley in To Kill a Mockingbird, had parts in a long list of great movies, and directed his own powerful and complex movie, The Apostle.  So when I came across an old movie with screen play by Leonard, co-starring Duvall, I checked it out.  Joe Kidd, starring Clint Eastwood, 1972 – when Clint’s glints were amazing.

Netflix summary: A wealthy landowner (Robert Duvall) attempts to hire former bounty hunter Joe Kidd (Clint Eastwood) and a band of killers to track down a group of armed revolutionary Mexicans (led by John Saxon's Luis Chama) whose U.S. land claims were denied and then burned by the government. At first, Kidd turns down the offer, until Chama steals his horse and terrorizes his friends. John Sturges directs from an original screenplay by Elmore Leonard.

“… Mexicans whose land claims were denied and then burned by the government.”  Interesting background, and another aspect of the immigration horror show.

Check it out, for a great show!  (And think it over.)

money -- real issue, but central?

Money

The nation’s major anti-immigration organization, FAIR, focuses on the cost to taxpayers.  They put a lot of effort into this green eye-shade labor, but accountants better than I have scrutinized their work elsewhere.  I offer five responses, not about their worthy details.

1.       Obviously, for many people, if it seems possible to discern what God asks of us, and we come to believe that God has asked us to welcome immigrants, the cost is interesting but not terribly important.  We’ll do it.

2.       Same point, slightly revised. Obviously, for many people, if it seems possible to help good people in real need, and we come to believe that many immigrants fit that description, the cost is interesting but not terribly important.  We’ll do it.

3.       The arguments made about the costs associated with Latino immigration were made about the Irish in the middle of the 19^th century.  While the Irish were fleeing from famine and poverty, and for a generation after the disaster, they (we) were a burden, including an economic burden.  But since then, we have proved ourselves to be a huge benefit to the nation.  So for people who are careful and thoughtful about history, the arguments about cost suddenly seem transparently bogus, unless FAIR can explain the difference between Latino immigrants and Irish immigrants.

4.       The United States is a shrinking country, except for immigration.  Average family size for people born in the USA is already below replacement level.  So Social Security is certain to fail unless we permit immigration.  Assuming for the moment that all of FAIR’s numbers are right, and immigration is a financial drain (I don’t accept it, but assume for the moment), what cost in their whiny list comes close to balancing off the financial catastrophe of destroying Social Security? 

5.       Just Maryland, for the moment: Maryland’s Dream Act is about in-state tuition rates for students who have: (a) settled in Maryland (at least five years), (b) paid taxes for five years (they and/or their parents), (c) shown themselves to be serious students and likely successful citizens by three years in a Maryland high school, earning a high school diploma, and performed successfully in college for two years, earning at least 60 credits.  Maryland taxpayers have already invested in these students for at least five years.  Now, we are two years away from cashing in on the investment, when they enter our workforce with a college degree.  Will we help for the last two years?  Not only justice, but also finance suggests we should!  Isn’t this a no-brainer?

Roots of Racism -- it's out!

The book is out!

The Roots of Racism and Abortion is on Kindle, available for purchase, downloadable in a few seconds.  It’s a re-published e-published book of mine, about eugenics, the master race ideology.  I agonized over it; I wanted to spend ten years improving it, but Betsy objected.  Anyway, as it is, the book explains eugenics, explains its parts, gives examples, points at solutions …

Oddly, when I finished it, I was painfully aware that the weakest chapter is the one on immigration.  I was tempted to delay awhile and write some more, since I am re-publishing it specifically because I am now involved in the Dream Act campaign, working to provide hospitality and welcome to immigrants in Maryland.  But I can’t write an improved chapter; if I start, I’ll write another book.  (Strike “if” – when!)

No one on earth will ever agree with everything in the book.  Not even me; I fussed and argued with the author every page.  It’s about sex and violence and religion and politics; there’s not much in there that isn’t controversial, except Hitler.  I promise it’s got info that will be new to you, ideas that will challenge you, stories that will move you.  If you’re okay with the word “paradigm,” that’s a relief, because what I really want to do, and expect to do, is cause a paradigm shift.

Why does it help to understand eugenics if you want to welcome immigrants?

Eugenics is about the drive to control the future of the human race by social control of fertility.  The idea is, the next generation should be a new and improved human race.  We can breed tomatoes, so let’s breed humans.  The key to a breeding program, generally, is simple (before tinkering with genes): “more from the fit, less from the unfit” – so said the eugenicists of the past century. 

Identifying the unfit – that’s the heart of an effective eugenics program!  You can do it one by one, but it’s much faster to go after broad social groups.  So eugenicists described in the 1980s how they would change family size all over Latin America using soap operas.  The first time I heard that plan, I was skeptical, but that was 30 years ago, and now the work is done.  Still, there are too many Latinos down there, they say.  Population control is taking hold, but the fight isn’t over.  And in the mean time, the drive to lower Latino population needs a backstop program.  Population control will not work well if population pressure is alleviated by migration.

What was that?  I didn't understand a word you said.

Okay, let me slow down a little.  Sometimes when you are arguing with someone about immigration, they fuss about Latinos coming here and getting on welfare.  So you work with that a bit, and talk about jobs programs.  But then the same person, without any shame, fusses about Latinos coming here and taking jobs away from “real” Americans (born here, I think that means). Okay, if you don’t want them to come and not-work, and you don’t want them to come and work, then the truth is, you don’t want them to come, period.  That was a lot of wasted time, but maybe we’re getting somewhere. So then we can talk about what’s wrong with them coming.  Does this fussy person want them to stay where they are – in the middle of a civil war (that we had a hand in), or in poverty (that we helped cause)? If you press on that, patiently, you deal with a lot of confusion, but more often than not it turns out that Mr. Holy Borders doesn’t want them here, but he doesn’t want them there, either.  He doesn’t want them to be.  He supports ZPG or NPG (zero population growth or negative population growth).  There's nothing personal about it, but he does think there are too many people getting born, and more specifically that there are too many people getting born in -- say -- El Salvador.   

Immigration is backup for depopulation.

Read the book.  Kindle, $3.  Tell a thousand friends to get it.  Tell a million enemies to get it.

(If you don’t do Kindle, let me know.)

Why do I care about immigration -- Antonio's story

Antonio is compact young man, short with a light build, maybe 5' 2", 110 pounds. He has black hair grown short and flat on his head, like Caesar's busts; it doesn’t change the shape of his head. He walks quietly, tilted a little to one side as if he is dodging something. Which he is, I think -- he is dodging scrutiny. He doesn't look people in the eye, because he’s hiding.

He was a ninth grader when he started my Academic Reading class in August, but he was reading on a fourth grade level. He wrote slowly, in short sentences, with a small vocabulary and troubled grammar. He answered politely and carefully when called on, but never volunteered anything. And the sense that I had watching him walk was confirmed when he sat down: he hid behind the student in front of him, or beside him, depending on where I was. It would be easy to overlook him; he worked hard to be overlooked.

He hid, but during the year, he did his work with tremendous tenacity. He never skipped anything, although he usually finished several minutes after everyone else. His handwriting was slow, but curiously beautiful. It was not calligraphy; it was standard script. But it very precise; each letter was clear and unmistakable.

When I pointed out mistakes, he looked at me with no expression on his face, so that I wondered if he understood what I was saying, or if he resented my fussy criticism about impossible English spelling or grammar or idioms. I was a little slow to realize that although he looked at me without any expression, he never made the same mistake again.

When I called on him, he always hesitated before he spoke, and he always responded as briefly as possible without being rude. For some weeks, all I noticed was that he was slow and brief. I wondered if he was thinking in Spanish and translating his ideas into English. But then I realized that his speech was like his writing -- he spoke in complete sentences, short but to the point, with nothing extra but nothing missing.

We measured reading levels five times during the year. Each time, he had made very solid progress, and he finished the year reading at an eleventh grade level. His writing was similarly improved, with appropriate complexity. I did not see any change in his speaking.

The first time I saw him smile was in January or February. I taught in a public school, and I was careful to support parents, and not to promote ideas that might conflict with the ideas and values my students learned at home. I am comfortable with a remark attributed to St. Francis: “Preach always; when necessary, use words.” Still, by mid-winter, we had all gotten to know each other's views about many things, and I answered straight when a student asked me what I thought about illegal immigration. More than half the class was Latino, and a few had legal status; but the status of others was not so clear, in a situation where a lack of clarity is actually pretty transparent. I said that my thinking about it was shaped by my religious views, and that my understanding was that the Bible says repeatedly that God protects widows and orphans and strangers -- that the word “stranger” meant “immigrant.” I said that I was deeply moved by the words in Matthew’s Gospel, and I paraphrased them: “I was hungry and you fed me, I was thirsty and you gave me a drink, I was an immigrant and you welcomed me: meet my Father. I was hungry and you didn’t feed me, I was thirsty and you didn’t give a drink, I was an immigrant and you didn’t welcome me: go to hell.” Antonio’s head popped out of hiding, and the corners of his mouth were just barely turned up, his eyes just barely lit up. “Just barely” was enough; that was a real smile -- a million dollar smile, one of the great treasures of my teaching career.

Several months later, we had a discussion in class about college. The counseling department was squeezing decisions about the fall schedule out of everyone, and everyone was talking about life plans. I knew what most of them had in mind, but I ran through the whole class, asking each student where they expected to go to college. I was careful about the students who were planning to go into the military or a career right after high school -- but every student spoke. When I got to Antonio, I just sailed right into the default question of the day, without adjusting. By then, I had figured out that he was among the most determined and disciplined and promising students I would ever teach, and I was getting ready to launch into a spiel about the scholarships that are available at the Ivy League schools, and at many of the best colleges in the country . For students without much money, the best schools can cost about the same as community colleges -- next to nothing -- if you get in. I was ready to talk about what students can do in tenth and eleventh grade to help strengthen college applications. I was expecting him to say he was planning to go to Montgomery College, and I was ready to praise MC but then argue that he should apply at a list of other schools.

He looked me right in the eye and said carefully, “I’m not going to college.”

I was shocked: “Why not?”

I think he almost laughed at the expression on my face. I think he understood my shock and accepted it as a compliment. He kept eye contact, lifted his chin, smiled a broad smile, and waited for me to figure it out.

He is in hiding: he takes some risks, but he is careful.  I can’t think of it without searing pain.  He has accepted it. I don’t.

Which way would you go?

I have a classmate who devoted her life to development work in a village in Mexico. About ten years ago, I asked her what she thought about NAFTA, a trade agreement that made it easier to trade between participating nations. I expected her to support it, but her response was cautious.

John, she said, I did not follow the debate carefully. I can only tell you what happened in my little village. Most of my neighbors are subsistence farmers. They raise their food, make their own clothes, build their own homes. They grow some corn that is not their own food. They used to sell it, and that was almost the only cash in the community. But NAFTA meant that corn from Iowa and other Midwest states was available here. They could not compete with that. They still raise almost everything they need. But if they need a new tool, a new hammer, that requires cash. There isn't any cash here. So everyone between age 15 and 50 left the village. Every one. We have young people and old people, but no one of working age.

They all left, to get work. Almost all of them went north.

Where else could they go?

Lesson from Prohibition?

Opponents of immigration often refer to their reasonable and legitimate concern about criminals making their way into an open society -- OUR proud and open society. I understand the concern, but perhaps I am missing something obvious here. To me, it to seems obvious that when 12 million good people are treated as criminals, it gets harder, not easier, to catch real criminals. Wasn't that one of the lessons of Prohibition? What am I missing here?

Gen Grant responds to Lincoln's 2nd Inaugural

In his oft-quoted 2nd Inaugural Address, Abraham Lincoln said that we cannot criticize the justice of God if a drop of blood is spilled in war for every drop of blood spilled in slavery. Not many theologians today would make that point that way. But some years after Lincoln's speech, Gen/Pres Grant said something similar in his Memoirs. He said that the war that he won was caused by the evil of the Mexican War. Lincoln said the war was a just punishment for what the nation did to black slaves; Grant said it was punishment for what the nation did to Mexico. Grant had fought in Mexico ("in the halls of Montezuma"), and had a right to his opinion. But he thought the war was unjustifiable -- was a greedy theft.

In several steps over several years, we took the land that later became TX, NM, AZ, CA, NV, and parts of CO and UT. Of course, they (Mexicans) weren't using the land much. We saw work/opportunity there, and we took it. Was that justifiable?

health care and immigration

In the dusty corners of history ... Most people did not notice and/or do not remember why the Catholic bishops opposed the health care reform bill a couple of years ago. It was not because they oppose the idea of universal health care; the bishops have pressed hard for that longer than any other party around. They opposed this version because it had three flaws they considered critical. (1) It pays for some abortions; (2) it does not have a conscience clause; and (3) IT DOES NOT COVER 12,000,000 IMMIGRANTS.

Paraphrasing the "Magnificat"

Today, the Catholic Church recalls and celebrates a visit. Mary, newly pregnant, walked a couple of days to visit her cousin, an older woman, who was six months pregnant. When Mary got to Elizabeth’s house, she sang a song that we still have.
Mary, the mother of Jesus, had a wonderful life in many ways, but had some extraordinarily hard times. When she was a teenager, she had some kind of experience of a spiritual visit, in which an angel told her that the Creator of the universe would like her to be the mother of his child. She said yes. Exactly what happened next is entirely private between Mary and God, but she became pregnant. At the time, she was engaged but not married, and there was a scandal in the air. She got through it, but it must have been painful as well as joyful.

Her fiance, later husband, was a carpenter. When the baby was born, the king of that region made a serious effort to locate and kill the child, because of a prophecy about a child who would take the king’s throne. So the family became fugitives -- a day laborer who didn’t know the language of the country where they fled, a wife with a baby who did not resemble the father, and a child wanted by the police. They would never have been allowed across the Rio Grande; if they have fled this way, they would have come across the desert by night. Again, we don’t know any details, and they were probably very happy in many ways, but the situation must have included some amazing pain.

Mary’s husband died before she did; widowed, she stayed with her son, and supported his work. He got in trouble with the law again, and was eventually arrested, tortured, and executed -- while she watched. Some of the best art in the world was inspired by the pain that artists imagine she must have experienced.

Despite all this pain, what we have from her today is this love song. She sang it in Aramaic, and then it was written down in Greek, and people sang it for 10-15 centuries in Latin, and now people sing it in every language in the world. The beauty of it works in translation. Here’s a loose paraphrase.

“My whole heart sings when I think about the person I know and love. If you come to know my heart, you will know and love him, too, because all the beauty of my heart is about him. Just hearing his name thrills me; it is the most beautiful utterance in the world.

“I am the most fortunate girl who ever lived, because he loves me. Probably every girl feels that way, but I am different, because he is different. I am a nobody, a teenager from a hick town in hills on the other side of nowhere, but I know that for all the rest of human history, people will know me, will know my name, will know my story, and will know that I was the luckiest girl ever. That’s not because I am anything special by myself; it is because he chose me. He made me somebody, forever.

“Let me tell you about him. He is generous, and takes care of everyone he meets who is in need. But he does not just throw money at them; he lifts them up and makes each person feel like a prince. He is in fact rich and powerful, but he does not hang around with other rich and powerful people; in fact, when he loses his temper -- which is rare, but impressive when it happens -- it is almost always with rich people who are arrogant. He can’t stand being around them. He has chosen to live with the poor of the world. That’s one of the things about him that I love best, one of the things about him that makes the sound of his name so, so sweet to me.

“He is loyal to his friends. One of the reasons that he is good to me is that he made a promise to my ancestors that he would take care of our family. He made that promise -- not weeks ago, not years ago, not decades ago, but generations and generations ago -- and he kept it.

“Forever, his name is the most beautiful utterance in the world.”

Knights of Columbus and immigration

It is perplexing that one of the leaders of the opposition to the Maryland Dream Act is a Catholic politician whose biography includes membership in the Knights of Columbus. It’s a bit like having the president of the Lions Club poke you in the eye with a stick.

The Knights of Columbus is a Catholic service organization. They don’t drive little cars like the Shriners, but they have some wild feathers and some nifty swords. Toys and jokes aside, they serve. Their best-known charitable work in Maryland is raising funds to help kids with disabilities. But they started in the late 19^th century as a support group for Catholic immigrants.

The Knights of Columbus was originally founded by a diocesan priest in Connecticut, Fr. Michael J. McGivney, to support immigrants. It is perplexing when a Knight is a leader of an organization set up expressly to oppose immigrants’ claims.

The Knights of Columbus describe themselves as “practical Catholics,” meaning that they put their faith into practice. It is perplexing when a Knight works against immigrants who are mostly Catholic.

The Knights of Columbus are completely loyal to the institutional church -- to the Pope, the bishops, the priests who lead the Church. It is perplexing when a Knight works against immigrants rights when the Church has made service to immigrants a high priority, internationally and nationally and locally.

The Knights of Columbus have always held Mary, the mother of Jesus, in high esteem, and have supported awareness of the different shrines related to Mary. The organization’s magazine, Columbia, is loaded with invitations to go on pilgrimages to Marian shrines, and reports about pilgrimages to Lourdes and Fatima and Guadalupe. In America, the most significant shrine related to Mary is in Mexico, where there is an image of the “Virgin of Guadalupe.” In this beautiful image cherished since 1531, it is hard to tell whether Mary is from Judea or from Central America. This image of solidarity with poor native Americans was a key to the evangelization of America. It is perplexing when a Knight rejects this heritage of solidarity with Latin American brothers and sisters.

Columbus did not speak English. He was from southern Europe -- a Latin European.

I don’t think that this prominent Knight has decided not to pay any attention to the clear teaching of the Bible, of Jesus Christ himself, of the Church throughout the ages, of the past several Popes, of the bishops today, of the bishops and priests of Maryland. I don’t think he means to walk away from the work of Fr. McGivney. I’m pretty sure he just never thought about it.

Brother! Can we put an end to this scandal?

all the grimy little uns

In 2012, the Catholic Church in the United States is crucified between two thieves.  That's not such a bad place to be, given our history, our roots, our future, our sign, our nourishment, our heroes, our Lord.  Still, it's fun to fuss.

On one hand, there's an administration that has demanded that all employers provide insurance for contraception and sterilization and chemically induced abortion.  The Church objects that this requirement is a violation of their conscience and also of a truce that has been in place for 30 years.  On the other hand, there's a political party that has blocked all efforts to accept 12 million facts on the ground: undocumented immigrants.  The Church objects that inhospitality is a violation of the nation's conscience, and a transformation of our national identity.

Dear Lord, protect the unknown unnamed unnumbered unwanted unloved unborn, and also the undocumented unwashed unfed unemployed uprooted unwanted illegals. Teach us to cherish and protect all the grimy little Uns you have placed in our lives.

dusty aching feet

Holy Thursday

During the liturgy for Holy Thursday, Catholics recall and celebrate the “Last Supper,” the last time Jesus ate with his followers and friends before he was arrested and executed. They celebrated Passover together, then he went out to become both priest and victim at a new Passover celebration.

One detail of that celebration was that Jesus washed the feet of his disciples. The point was simple: he serves, we should serve. But this year, I was struck anew by the specifics of his service. We don’t wash anyone else’s feet much in our culture. We wash our own feet. People get pedicures. There’s some interpersonal foot-washing in hospitals and nursing homes, for people who can’t bathe themselves. That’s about it.

In Jesus’ culture, people walked more, and wore sandals that let dust and grime get to their feet a lot more. And he lived in a land with less pavement, less meadow, more dusty desert. I don’t know many people who walk through dusty deserts.

The service that Jesus modeled was not meant to be culture specific. We should help others, with open-hearted generosity, meeting the needs that we see.

And yet, I do know some people with dusty aching feet.

Lord, have mercy.

Why care about immigration? family story ...

Irish immigrants had a rough time, but don’t always remember it that way.

My great-great-grandfather, John O’Keefe, came to the United States because of the Potato Famine, which killed a third of the Irish and displaced another third. But the music about Ireland that these refugees sang a generation later was syrupy-sweet. The story that my family retains about this ancestor is that he walked through Cork for awhile before he emigrated, and that he never slept without a roof -- that is, that his neighbors were hospitable to him, everywhere, every day. The family story suggests that young O’Keefe was easy to get along with, but it focuses on hospitality. And for sure: to get a picture of the devastated countryside, you have to go to some other source.

John O’Keefe was a stone mason in Knocknagree, County Cork; I am not sure what his work was here in America. He settled in Rockport, Massachusetts, and stayed there awhile. One evening, a neighbor came to see him. “O’Keefe,” he said, “I like you, so I’m telling you. We have decided that we don’t want Irish Catholics here, and we are going to burn your house down tomorrow. I like you, so I’m giving you warning, and you have time to pack up and leave.” He packed and left, and moved to Peterborough, NH, where some in-laws helped him settle on a farm.
In that time, businesses often had signs in the window that announced simply: NINA. That’s not Nina as in “the Nina, the Pinta, and the Santa Maria.” That’s NINA as in “No Irish Need Apply.” But we think of ourselves as irrepressible, and maybe we are. John’s son, John Aloysius (in retrospect, we identify him as John A the First; they were many more), received a good education in a one-room red schoolhouse on the side of a mountain a few miles outside the town of Peterborough. His teacher there was related to Thornton Wilder, perhaps his grandmother. It seems that she was a good teacher; it is sure that he was a good student. John A. went on to Harvard.

Just 15 years after the flight from Rockport, the family was back in the Boston area. John A. O’Keefe did well enough at Harvard (#2 in his class) to earn a slot as speaker at graduation in 1881, giving the “salutatorian address.“ He spoke about prejudice against Catholics, telling his classmates that they had been taught falsely that the Church was on the side of tyranny. When he finished, his WASP classmates were silent. A Jesuit from Boston College, Fr. Walsh I think, stood and applauded -- alone. That was 131 years ago, and we still chuckle about it.

It was his generation that established Irish power in Massachusetts. He was headmaster of Lynn Classical High School, and later another city school in Lynn was named for him. He supported the early labor movement, including the famous strike at the shoe factories in Lynn. In his generation, John (“Honey Fitz”) Fitzgerald was elected the first Irish mayor of Boston, displacing the previous patrician class.

The descendants of John O’Keefe are not as abundant as the stars, but they did proliferate. We are mathematicians, scientists, astrophysicists, chemists, geologists, (no biologists), doctors, lawyers, undertakers, politicians and activists, managers, glass-makers, teachers, soldiers, cops, tax resisters, engineers. At least 12 of his descendants went to Harvard. My great-grandfather was an educator who supported labor unions in their early days. My grandfather was a pediatrician who was very proud of his work with immigrants, including many Eastern Europeans, particularly Poles. My father was an astrophysicist who supported the civil rights movement -- hiring colorblind, marching, and collecting signatures for fair housing petitions.

Family lore does not record whether the house in Rockport was actually burned, after the offensive Irish with all their “Rum, Romanism and Rebellion” had left. What does remain in family lore is etched in stone, in New England granite: we remember that we too once were “strangers in a strange land.” But by God’s grace, we have seen much good and done much more.

Protect Social Security!

Congress and the President have dared each other to get serious about reforming Social Security to ensure that it works in the future. I wish them well. But I do want to focus on one much-neglected piece of the puzzle. You can’t fix Social Security if you don’t fix immigration.

I don’t believe the charge that Social Security is a fraudulent Ponzi scheme, but I agree completely that it is depends on a growing population and economy. If a population shrinks, then the number of old folks grows as a proportion of the whole. In one generation, you could have ten healthy young people supporting each retiree; then in a later generation, you might have three. That’s not sustainable; it can’t work well for long. Social Security depends on population growth.

The birthrate in families of people born in the United States is already below replacement rate. That is, if you don’t count immigrants, we are already a shrinking country. When our population decline began, it was not obvious, because two things happened at about the same time. While families got smaller, medical care improved and people lived longer. Keeping older folks around longer kept our population up, which hid the drop in the birthrate. But still, for locally grown Americans, we are already below replacement: we have fewer children than parents. That could destroy Social Security.

Immigration keeps the nation growing, vibrant, young, and healthy. It’s better than Cheerios, better even than Guinness. Our population is NOT declining, despite our catastrophic birthrate, because people are flooding in by the millions.

I’m not saying that we should exploit our immigrants. I’m just pointing out that immigrants are paying for Social Security, like the rest of us, and that their contributions mean that the system can work (if Congress and the President, whoever they are whenever they get around to it, will get serious about reform).

On the other hand, if you want to guarantee that Social Security breaks and stays broken, just throw out 12 million immigrants, and tighten the border. That will break our hearts and bust the bank, both.

Jose Marti

Some years ago, a classmate from Oklahoma got me started reading Elmore Leonard. Or Leonard Elmore: I’ve read most of his books with great delight and still can’t remember which name is first. His Westerns and detective stories are shameless mind candy, just pure fun. But a thoughtful guy lurks behind the confections, and Mr. Leonard (I just checked) got me reading Jose Marti -- not for his poetry, but for his politics.

Jose Marti wrote “Guantanamera,” a simple beautiful piece of music that I have sung for decades in the shower and other uninhabited/uninhibited places. Marti sang (or wrote, others sang) that he preferred the mountains to the sea. Well, first, I agree; and second, it sounds so beautiful in mournful Spanish! Even mangled Anglo-Spanish. And he wrote that he “chose to share his fate with the poor of the earth.” That touches every romantic and spiritual chord in my body and soul. The song also has some “Old Macdonald” scraps that I like: “Guantanamera, ah-ee-oh …” I’m pretty sure it doesn’t mean anything, but I only know Manglo-Spanish. Still, it’s fun.

Anyway, Leonard got me reading about Marti, and I found that he is embraced by Communists and anti-Communists alike. I admire that. Marti was a Cuban revolutionary leader in the second half of the 19th century, who helped start the revolution that ended Spanish rule in Cuba. I admire that too. But he had a deep ambivalence about the United States. He admired our ideals, and was inspired by our drive for freedom and equality. But at the same time, he was appalled by our treatment of our southern neighbors. So even as he fought the Spanish, he had his eye on threats on the horizon, and spoke against overweening American influence.

I grew up hearing Fidel Castro roaring away about how he was going to stop Yanqui imperialism, and I thought he was hallucinating. I mean, I wasn’t planning to build an empire in Ecuador or Paraguay; were you? And if we had decided to build an empire in Latin America, what was Fidel gonna do about it, huh? So I was shocked when I learned that Castro got all this stuff from Marti, not from Jamaican weed. Over a century ago, Marti said that Cuba had great role to play in history: to make sure that American imperialism did not spread south of Florida.

Marti admired us, but did not trust us. He did not believe that we would treat Latinos with respect. He thought we were capable of deep hypocrisy, preaching equality but acting with savage naked greed and totally blind self-absorbed ambition. Where did he get that idea? Aside from our treatment of blacks and Indians and Tories and Canucks and Mexicans and Jews and Papists and Chinks and Japs and Wops and Krauts and morons and rag-heads, we’re pretty good with folks. Right?

Even now, I would like to live and act in such a way that I would be worthy of Marti’s trust, practicing what we have always preached.