Tom Glenn's Blog, page 29

Words, Words, Words (Again) (3)

Because of my fascinati0n with words, returning to them in my blog is to be expected. So here we go again:

I’ll start with fatwa. Pronounced FAHT-wah, the word is not in my standard Merriam-Webster dictionary. According to Oxford Languages, it means a ruling on a point of Islamic law given by a recognized authority. Another meaning, from the Urban Dictionary, is an irreversible death penalty or bounty placed on an individual, especially for betrayal of one’s peers. The most famous current example is the fatwa issued by Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini, the Supreme Leader of Iran after the 1979 Iranian Revolution, on February 14, 1989, ordering Muslims to kill Salman Rushdie for the publication of his novel The Satanic Verses. The fatwa against Rushdie was probably the reason for the recent knife attack against him that left him hospitalized, on a ventilator, and likely to lose an eye. “Fatwa” comes from the Arabic root “f-t-y,” whose meanings include youth, newness, clarification, and explanation.

Next is tchotchke, pronounced “CHOCH-key.” It means a small object that is decorative rather than functional, such as a trinket. A second meaning is a pretty girl or woman. The word comes from the Yiddish “tshatshke,” of the same meaning, and ultimately from a now-obsolete Polish word, “czaczko.”

That brings us to scofflaw, one who scoffs at the law. “Scofflaw” was the winning entry of a nationwide competition to create a new word for “the lawless drinker,” with a prize of $200 in gold, sponsored by Delcevare King, a banker and enthusiastic supporter of Prohibition, in 1923.

And now ahem. It’s pronounced “ah-HEM” and refers to a deliberate clearing of the throat to get the attention of others.

That leads to ahmen or amen, a word we have been using unchanged since the days of Old English, the earliest form of the English language spoken and written in Anglo-Saxon Britain starting about 450 AD. The word’s origin is in Hebrew. It means “truly.” The only usage I know for it in modern English is to end a prayer. That leads to the expression, “Amen to that,” indicating strong agreement. I know of two ways to pronounce the word, ay-MEN and ah-MEN. Because of my Latin background, I prefer the latter pronunciation.

That’s enough—maybe too much—for one day. More next time.

Reading

When I had my eye surgery last June, I realized for the first time how much I depend on reading. For the first time within memory, with one eye covered by bandages and the other weakened by the surgery, I was hard put to read but gradually learned how to do it with only one damaged eye.

As I discovered, I read constantly. The first thing I do every day is to retrieve the Washington Post, delivered before six, and glance through it before posting my blog—which, of course, also requires reading. That done, I read new emails that have arrived since I went to bed the night before, then return to the Post for a more thorough investigation. In addition to perusing articles, I always read all the editorials and op-eds and a good many of the letters to the editor. Meanwhile, I read the New York Times online. Then I turn to the books awaiting me.

I always have a stack of books on the side table next to my reading chair. They consist of books I want to read, books and manuscripts other authors have sent me and asked me to read, and books assigned to me for review. Many days, I spend more time reading books than I do at other tasks.

My eyes are now mostly healed from the surgery, but I am hopelessly behind on my reading. And a new book for review (Ethan Chorin’s Benghhazi! which Hachette Books will publish in September) just arrived. Guess I’m going to have to apologize to my fellow authors and just skim or maybe not read at all the texts they’ve sent me.

Meanwhile, I’ll read more than ever.

Levels of Classification

The recent raid on Mar-a-Lago has brought news stories about classified documents that Trump took from the White House when he left the presidency. That has led to people asking what are the classification levels in the U.S. government. Here’s the answer:

There are three basic levels of classification: confidential, secret, and top secret. The choice as to which level to use depends on whether an unauthorized disclosure of the information would result in damage, serious damage, or grave damage to national security.

Beyond that, there are a variety of additional classification subsets used to narrow access. They include but are not limited to codeword, compartmented, restricted access, NOFORN (no foreign distribution), and SCI (sensitive compartmented information). The codewords are themselves classified, but one, UMBRA, is well known publicly, thanks to security breaches by Edward Snowden, a cleared contractor, in 2013. It was in use during my time of working for the National Security Agency (NSA). Whether it is still used is not clear from the sources I consulted.

In short, our system for classifying information is intricate and well thought through. It works exceptionally well—very little classified information is compromised even though as of 2010, the most recent date for which I could find statistics, an estimated 854,000 people held top-secret security clearances.

My Buddy

Sometime ago in this blog I talked about “My Buddy,” a song that has always had special meaning for me. It’s a popular song with music written by Walter Donaldson and lyrics by Gus Kahn. It was published in 1922.

My recent posts about Post-Traumatic Stress Injury (PTSI) talked about how I grieve for the men killed next to me in combat. That made me remember the song and its heart-rending lyrics. Here they are:

    Nights are long since you went away

    I think about you all through the day

    My buddy, my buddy, no buddy quite so true

    Miss your voice, the touch of your hand

    Just long to know that you understand

    My buddy, my buddy, your buddy misses you

 

   Miss your voice, the touch of your hand

    Just long to know that you understand

    My buddy, my buddy, your buddy misses you

End of quote. It still brings tears to my eyes.

PTSI Versus PTSD

Upon reading yesterday’s post on my Post-Traumatic Stress Injury (PTSI) presentation, a reader asked why I call the malady by that name instead of the more commonly used Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). The answer is that the disease, as I suffer from it, is not an internal disorder—something gone awry internally—but an externally inflicted wound on the soul. It seems obvious to me that, with rare exceptions, any normal and healthy person would suffer damage to the psyche from observing or participating in combat. It’s that ghastly.

Technically, PTSD refers to a disorder, while PTSI signifies a biological injury. In the U.S., service members and veterans diagnosed with PTSD aren’t eligible to receive the Purple Heart, the medal for service members wounded or killed as a result of enemy action while serving in the U.S. military. But in Canada, it’s different. Instead of PTSI, the Canadian military use the phrase Operational Stress Injury (OSI) when referring to the effects of psychological warfare trauma, including PTSD. Those with OSI are eligible to receive the Canadian equivalent of the Purple Heart.

Even if the U.S. did award the Purple Heart to those service members and veterans suffering from PTSI, I wouldn’t be eligible. During my years of operating on the battlefield, I was a civilian under cover as a member of whatever unit I was supporting.

All the technical discussion notwithstanding, PTSI is and remains a serious illness. My guess is that most everyone who experienced combat is afflicted with it to some degree. It never fades or goes away. The victim’s only recourse is to confront it and learn to live with it.

I’ve spent almost fifty years—since the fall of Saigon—doing just that.

PTSI Presentation

Last Thursday, I did my presentation with slides on Post-Traumatic Stress Injury (PTSI) for a small gathering at the Howard County Central Branch Library in downtown Columbia, Maryland, not far from where I live. My purpose in giving the presentation is to tell people about the malady. So few people know of it; even fewer of us suffer from it these days—a tiny fraction of one percent of all living Americans have ever been in combat. Too often we Americans, who have not had a war in our own land within living memory, have never heard of PTSI or dismiss it as cowardice. I know only two men other than me who suffer from the disorder. Both are, like me, Vietnam vets.

I pull no punches in talking about PTSI. I describe the bond between men fighting side by side, the strongest bond I’ve ever experienced. I tell of being in combat when the man fighting next to me is killed in a way so brutal that there’s not much left of him to put in a body bag. I make no effort to conceal my grief over the loss of my buddies on the battlefield. And I talk in detail about the symptoms of PTSI: flashbacks, nightmares, irrational rages, panic attacks, and depression.

I walk the audience through the ways to cope with the malady, pointing out that there is no cure. I talk about forcing myself to face the memories head-on and training my emotions to stay in check. And finally, I lay out the two most effective countermeasures: taking pride in my service and volunteering to help others in need.

I’ve given the presentation many times over the forty-seven years since I escaped under fire during the fall of Saigon. And yet I still choke up as I talk about the men who died by my side. I still grieve for them. I guess I always will.

But, as I say at the end of the presentation, I am content. My family and I are proud that I risked my life for the good of my country. If I were able, I’d do it all again. And these days I reach out and try to help others who suffer from PTSI. My only regret is that I’m now too old and feeble to deploy to the battlefield. My time is past.

But the memories will be with me always.

Mar-a-Lago

Last Monday’s raid on Mar-a-Lago has focused public attention on the mansion-turned-club owned and run by former president Donald Trump. It’s huge: 126 rooms, 62,500-square-foot interior, with approximately 20 acres of perfectly landscaped lawns. The house was built by Marjorie Merriweather Post, heiress to the Post Cereals business. She hired Marion Sims Wyeth to design it, and Joseph Urban to create interior design and exterior decorations. Post spent $7 million (equivalent to $109 million in 2021), and it was finished in 1927. The house has 58 bedrooms, 33 bathrooms, a 29-foot-long pietra dura marble-top dining table, 12 fireplaces, and three bomb shelters. Mar-a-Lago was declared a National Historic Landmark in 1980.

In 1985, Donald Trump offered to buy Mar-a-Lago for $15 million, but the Post family they rejected the offer. So Trump purchased the land between Mar-a-Lago and the ocean for $2 million, stating he intended to build a home that would block Mar-a-Lago’s beach view. The threat caused interest in the property to decline, and Trump ended up getting it for $7 million.

Facing financial difficulties in 1994, Trump turned the estate into a private club. It now reportedly has 500 members. The initiation fee for membership rose from $100,000 to $200,000 earlier this year, but the particulars of membership are still mostly shrouded in mystery, as are the identities of most of the members themselves.

Suffice it to say that Mar-a-Lago is a haven for the ultrarich led by one of their faithful. It will presumably be Trump’s dwelling place for as long as he lives.

The NRA

The National Rifle Association (NRA) is an organization that promotes gun ownership. It was originally founded in 1871 to advance rifle marksmanship. But today it is the most important advocacy group endorsing the approval of firearms.

The NRA has had to face growing disapproval as more and more people are killed by gunfire in the U.S.—27,153 so far this year. But serious confrontation with the group began several years ago. Following an 18-month investigation, on August 6, 2020, New York Attorney General Letitia James filed a civil lawsuit against the NRA, alleging fraud, financial misconduct, and misuse of charitable funds. The suit calls for the dissolution of the NRA as being “fraught with fraud and abuse.” On the same date, Attorney General for the District of Columbia, Karl Racine, filed a lawsuit against the NRA for misusing charitable funds.

On January 15, 2021, the NRA announced that it and one of its subsidiaries had filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy. Its long-time CEO and EVP Wayne LaPierre’s excessive compensation and exorbitant spending of NRA funds on himself and his wife, such as extremely expensive suits, chartered jet flights, and a traveling “glam squad” for his wife, became a subject of testimony during the proceedings.

The NRA worsened its national image by holding its annual convention in May 2022, in Houston, Texas, a mere 300 miles from Uvalde and only days after a gunman killed nineteen children and two teachers there. It continues to maintain that “guns are not the problem.” The problem, it declares, is mental illness. That position ignores the overwhelming evidence that the ratio between number of guns owned and the number of people killed by guns is the same throughout the world: the more guns in the hands of citizens, the more citizens killed. With 120.5 civilian-owned firearms per 100 people—we have more guns that people—the United States has the highest rate of civilian gun ownership and the highest number of gun deaths in the world.

In short, the NRA continues to champion gun ownership in the face of irrefutable evidence that the reason that the U.S. has more gun deaths than any other modern democracy is that we own 20 percent more guns than we have people.

It’s time to put the NRA out of business. What’s stopping us?

Latest Radio Interview

My latest radio interview, done earlier today, is now available for listening at https://www.blogtalkradio.com/closeupradio/2022/08/10/part-2-close-up-radio-welcomes-back-best-selling-author-tom-glenn

Please take a listen and let me know what you think.

Long Ago and Far Away

As I age, my past gets longer and longer. It seems further away than ever. So the phrase “long ago and far away” has real relevance to me. I have been considered an old man ever since I turned fifty, some thirty-five years ago. I was shocked recently to learn that my novel Last of the Annamese, set during the fall of Saigon, is now considered historical fiction, even though I lived the story myself. Does that make me an historical character, even though I’m still living?

I look back to my childhood, and I feel like I’m remembering ancient times. I grew up in the hills of Oakland, California. I still remember our street address: 4262 Robin Hood Way. We lived on a slope near the peak of a small mountain. I had a cocker spaniel dog named Bimby (derived from the Spanish bimbo, meaning “baby”). All that ended when my father was convicted of embezzlement and sent to prison and my mother sank further into alcoholism. My mother and I moved to the slums. I became self-reliant so I wouldn’t starve.

That childhood feels like it was so far in the past that the phrase “long ago and far way” describes it. How much truer that will become if I meet my goal of living to be over a hundred. So far, all the evidence is that I’ll make it.