My days as a betting man ended early in our marriage. Geri questioned why a substantial amount of my paycheck as a reporter—meager enough as it was—was being withheld to ostensibly pay a debt about which she knew nothing.
After a fair amount of hemming and hawing, I finally admitted that the payment was to make good on an arrangement I had made with three Las Vegas casinos to keep my knees intact. A bank served as the intermediary, my boss as the guarantor.
I’ve not gambled since. Not once. I can walk by craps tables at Caesar’s Palace where I’ve actually thrown the dice and not even blink.
If I were a betting man, however, I would put my money on the notion that within a year, COVID-19 vaccinations will be mandated by federal law. While the majority of Americans seem to do the right thing by protecting each other from a disease that brings nothing but pain and heartache, more than a handful seem to value their right to exercise what they perceive as personal freedom to outweigh the common good.
Ironically, the federal mandates will come from what the anti-vaxxer, far-right hates most: government action which translates, to their feeble little minds, to restrictive control. These ideas stem from (mostly) men in forest camo stalking their local Starbucks with semi-automatic weapons draped across their chests.
Though hardly a legal scholar, out of curiosity, I’ve been reading about some legislation over the past few weeks that seems of particular interest. My question is concerning the origins of the need for much of it.
Are the laws of our land reactionary, remedial, or anticipatory? I imagine that a combination of the three is the right mix, with the biggest ingredient being remedial.
I once worked for a cable network that targeted an older demographic. The owner, who has subsequently done significant stays in prison for any number of white-collar crimes, wanted to show his empathy to his target audience by supporting the development of what would become the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA). His support was less than noble, but I took the task seriously. I wrote countless letters, wrote position papers, and contributed op-ed pieces to Los Angeles newspapers.
The ADA, which was enacted in 1990, demanded that Americans do the right thing to protect and serve those among us who, for instance, couldn’t access certain places and activities because of a disability. Prior to that, a person confined to a wheelchair, for instance, had no access to a baseball stadium. (An early exception might be Dodger Stadium, where the legendary catcher, Roy Campanella, was a fixture.)
Elevators became mandatory in new construction. Access ramps were required for entry to public properties. Handrails became the expected norm. The list goes on and on—amenities to facilitate the disabled to avail themselves of the pleasures and activities most took for granted.
The ADA was clearly remedial. As a country, we had ignored the needs of the few and it took government action to solve problems that should have been solved by a nation’s resolve to be kind and considerate. In another word, nice.
Modeled on the Civil Rights Act of 1964, the ADA served the same purpose.
Lyndon B. Johnson, reacting to the needs of Black Americans, designed legislation that would help guarantee what should have been unnecessary to even address. Lincoln’s Emancipation Proclamation might have freed slaves, but it did little to ensure their rights. Almost a hundred years later, the CRA offered protections, but enforcement is on-going almost fifty years later—and it’s horribly ineffective.
I never believed that I would be an old man with gray hair, an oxygen canula in my nose, mottled skin with bruises and slow-healing abrasions, and peripheral neuropathy, but here I am—in all my muted glory. At least my knees are intact.
I need such conveniences as grab bars to steady myself in the bathroom.
I recently noticed that at my preferred grocery store, there were no such bars to assist a user.
Why? I wondered.
I endured an exhausting struggle, but I was quickly aided by fellow shoppers who took time from their own rounds to assist me. One found a chair, another stood to make sure I didn’t fall, a third to ask if I needed a 9-1-1 call. And yet another brought me one of the electric scooters to help facilitate my shopping. These might have been humiliating moments had not the participants been so kind.
Nice, actually. Just plain nice…the way most of us were raised to be. The way we’re all supposed to be.
What all this has led to in my thinking about is that at some point, the grocery store can either do the right thing by installing grab bars and a comfort toilet, or make things worse by being mandated to do such by local or federal governing agencies.
During the time I was working for the failed cable network, I attended a cable television conference in Anaheim, California. At issue was the so-called “must-carry” rules that required cable services to provide access to network programming without direct compensation from cable subscribers. I regret not remembering the name of the Republican U.S. Representative I was sitting next to, but his words of that afternoon resonate: “You’d all better figure this out before we get involved and really fuck it up.”
Even as an old school FDR Democrat (I offer no apology, it was how I was raised), I still recognize that kindness comes from the heart, not from government action.
Do the right thing before something or someone makes you do the right thing.
Photo illustration by Courtney A. Liska
Cacio e Pepe
One of the grand dishes of Rome, this pasta with Pecorino Romano cheese is an elegant dish that takes mere minutes to prepare. It is best if you toast whole black peppercorns to grind. This is for 2 servings.
6 oz. spaghetti
3 Tbsp. unsalted butter, cubed, divided
1 tsp. freshly cracked black pepper
1/2 cup finely grated Pecorino Romano cheese
Bring 3 quarts water to a boil in a 5-qt. pot. Season with salt; add pasta and cook, stirring occasionally, until about 2 minutes before tender. Drain, reserving ¾ cup pasta cooking water.
Meanwhile, melt 2 Tbsp. butter in a Dutch oven or other large pot or skillet over medium heat. Add pepper and cook, swirling pan for about one minute.
Add ½ cup reserved pasta water to skillet and bring to a simmer. Add pasta and remaining butter. Reduce heat to low and add the cheese, stirring and tossing with tongs until melted. Remove pan from heat. (Add more pasta water if sauce seems dry.) Transfer pasta to warm bowls and serve.
If you could choose again between gambling and all your current physical/aging problems which you reach the same conclusion?
Just asking.
That’s “would” you reach the same conclusion.