Category: Political

Taking No Shit Or How I Became a Target-Pt1

So, it was the age of Rudy, the time of stop and frisk. Put everyone in jail, especially those who was windows on stopped cars. The PC was developing community policing which was bringing down crime, but the jails were burgeoning with poor people of color and druggies.

Who knows where the newly appointed ADAs were from or what their connection to criminal justice was or how much life experience they had. No much or any, I suspected. And the bench was packed with EX ADAs from the Bronx, one from Brooklyn who had recently returned from out West where he was a sheriff and a couple of strays, none of whom had ever tried a case or represented a person in custody. There was a politico from Queens whom I was forced to share chambers with and an ex-law assistant, also with no experience in criminal courts.

The newly appointeds knew nothing about the streets. First jobs. Who knows where they live or how many loves they had had. The women knew men through their fathers and none I guess knew anyone from the Woodstock generation. So they, the People (PSNY), were like the kids who had been trained using the Milgram method a program which investigated the conflict between personal conscience and obedience to authority by having participants (often referred to as “teachers”) administer what they believed were increasingly severe, painful electric shocks to another person.

They didn’t understand that alternatives other than jail had to be considered and if they did not exist, developed. And they didn’t understand this look I gave them after listening to their pitter patter following requests for bail and jail.

To be continued.

Cora Duckman and Little Lorry

So, I finished mourning my Mother’s death, 30 years ago, almost to the day. She died right after I was charged and way before I was convicted (that was still 30 tortuous months off). Still not sure how it happened though she told me she heard Governor Pataki railing at me. The next I knew, she had a heart attack and died, leaving me motherless and family less.

I will always blame Pataki and his Court of selfish fools, along with all of you who ruined my life and my career. I read the words you wrote and saw your faces as you testified against me, made fun of me, humiliated me, denigrated me, banished me and convicted me. I never recovered.

We should never hate even those we don’t get along with or understand. And we should not jail or kill those who love freedom and justice, especially the ones without the power or money to defend themselves.

I light a candle for her.

Dems Rising

Not easy to be a concerned citizen anymore. Been yelled and screamed at for years for wanting liberty and justice for all. Americans all. More justice, more peace. No kings or queens and take the gold out of the White House.

Was A Farm

In 2015, we continued our escape. Moved to Florida where Jews used to go to die. Bought a condo in West Boynton Beach, a place not near a beach. Situated in an Agricultural Reserve, restaurants, grocery stores and a movie theatre were a straight line’s drive away. Buses drove farmworkers to the fields. Today, no farm workers and no farms. The absence of the former is unrelated to the latter.

Democracy 2025

Went to a John Lewis tribute (to honor him) and demo to see what politics are doing in FL. Lots of excited people. Too many of them, but who knows. The more people who know how bereft of morals and kindness the Republicans are, the more democrats there will be.

Notice the woman between the signs and the person in black on the left. Sharon and I.

Jimmy Carter and Lorin Duckman

Once, a long time ago, when I was someone worth talking to, Jimmy and I had a conversation. He was no longer the President and was making the rounds, here New York Law School, to talk about human rights.

On 14 January 1980, the Administration of President Jimmy Carter joined Andrei Sakharov’s appeal to boycott the Olympics and set a deadline by which the Soviet Union had to pull out of Afghanistan or “face the consequences”, including an international boycott of the games. Carter convinced several countries to not compete when Russia didn’t leave. 9 years later, the Russians left, their attempts to support a pro-communist government faileding disastrously.

After the lecture, I told President Carter that his actions made me happy. He misunderstood me, as many have over the years, and said that he didn’t want me to be happy that he made the decision. Humbly, I replied, that his principled decision is what made me happy and that I felt for all the athletes denied the opportunity to compete.

He smiled, shook my hand.

Years later, I mailed him the picture. He signed it.

Navalny Dead

They get you. They get you. They get you. They crush you. They denude you. They diminish you, take away your dreams and livelihood. They make you want to give up. They make you want to kill yourself. They make you feel like you don’t make a difference any more. They make you hated. They rob you of your friends and family. You give up, especially if you have a loving wife and you leave. You relocate, try to start up again. Still alive. You feel you still have support, so you return. They lock you up. You keep talking. They imprison you. They torture you. They poison you. Then they kill you. They get you. And lie about it. BUT NOT YOU.

Sad. Sad. Sad. And you leave a mother, a wife and people who needed you to be alive. Hugs all around. They will kill some of them, too.

We needed you to be alive. All over the world you gave people strength to speak out, to resist. Everyone heard your voice. You HAD to go back. I understand.

Love you, bro.

Critics beware. Keep fighting. Expect to die or lose your life and livelihood.

I cry for you, my brother.

Navalny (shout his name) never gave up.

He left a mantra: Never give up.

No Thanksgiving

Not that Thanksgiving was ever one of my favorite holidays, but today’s Thanksgiving hurts more than any and means less. The deaths in Israel and Gaza of innocent people, old and young alike, leaves me bereft. I grieve mightily for the losses on both sides and the absence of dignity and purpose in the entire affair.

My heart breaks for the living, as well as the dead, parents, siblings, friends, associates. I cannot imagine what it feels like to have lost someone or not to know if someone was lost. The sorrow and sadness keeps me awake at night, despite feeling personally safe and despite not personally knowing anyone who died. I see the destruction in my dreams and hear the cries. I can smell the fetid air and taste the pollution on my tongue. No one feels safe and everyone knows it.

I know the pain of isolation and aloneness, the despair of not having family or friends, of being hated. I never learned to hate, though I did learn to be hated. I learned love through my wife. No god ever shined countenance on me or gave me peace and no hater ever said they were sorry or tried to renew a friendship or family relationship. My life was destroyed, but I got to leave with my head up, some trinkets and a spouse. Where do they go and with whom.

Stripped of my career, legacy and heritage, I was left only with my self-esteem and a loving, caring wife. At least I had that. What will they have: more fear of annihalition, complete destruction, obliteration. Who will care for them in sickness and in health? Who will they trust to protect them?

No one will come to our table to share a harvest feast. We don’t eat turkey or tell the story of the Native American Wampanoag people. There will be no arguments about who made the best stuffing or gravy and no collapses on the couch to watch football games. Just some Osso Bucco and a glass or two of red “whine”.

I can only hope that tomorrow some hostages on both sides are released.