No Time Like the Present

Benjamin Franklin had many great ideas, several of which are still with us in the present time: The Franklin Stove, Reading Glasses, a Democracy, Fire Brigades, and so on. Unfortunately, a bad one still lingers, and at a tremendous annual cost: Daylight Savings Time (DST).

Invented in an era that pre-dates the electric lightbulb, public lit spaces, and indoor basketball courts, DST hearkens back to an era when man relied on nature for timekeeping: Sunrises and sunsets controlled the days, the seasons informed our (mostly agrarian) society, and nobody had any business being outdoors after dark. For the good Dr. Franklin, it was all about not wasting money on candles if you could get up an hour earlier and enjoy the daylight. For others, it offered the opportunity to get off work and still have some light left, which made the Sporting Goods industry a big fan. But other than that, the benefits are limited: The energy savings are very small, and what with the advent of LED lighting, practically miniscule. Society manages itself nowadays by the clock, daylight and weather be damned.

I was fairly ambivalent about this topic, until my first Fall in the Israeli Defense Force. A lowly Private, I was assigned one fateful evening to guard duty on base, and drew the fairly crappy 10 PM to 2 AM shift. As luck had it, it was the night on which Israel “Fell Backwards” (as the old mnemonic states) and DST ends. All my attempts to convince the Duty Officer that he was, in effect, assigning me a brutal five-hour shift fell on deaf ears. When he finally comprehended the issue the Staff Sergeant solved the problem by announcing that he’ll simply make sure that I’ll be assigned the same shift in the Spring, and thus get my lost hour back…

DST is actually somewhat controversial in Israel and, based on who the ruling coalition is in Government, does change over the years. The problem is with Sephardic Orthodox Jews following the tradition of waking up for Forgiveness Prayers (Selichot) in the month leading up to Rosh Hashanah. These prayers have to be said between midnight and dawn, which is rendered difficult by DST, as you still have to get up at an ungodly hour (pun unintended), pray, and then kill a few more hours until you go to work. Moreover, with DST the Sabbath ends later in the evening, which the Orthodox claim foments mass breaking of the Sabbath, as public transportation (which is mostly shut down in Israel on Saturdays) gears-up for people going out Saturday nights.

Conversely, scientific studies have shown that messing with our bodies’ clocks comes at a significant psychological cost during our “realignment” each year, particularly in the Spring, and that there is a serious economic cost attached to it. Unscientific research conducted by my loved ones who know exactly how grumpy I get on account of these changes further validate these findings.

It’s time to banish DST to the dustbin of history, and end this illusory “energy saving” step that is actually wreaking havoc on our minds. We can very easily recalibrate the semi-annual ceremony of testing smoke-detector batteries to two military holidays, conveniently six months apart: Veterans Day, and Memorial Day. And enough with the myth of “gaining an extra hour of sleep” in the Fall. What’s the point, if later on the very same day I have to waste an entire hour resetting all the clocks in the house?

The Good Lord

Earlier this month we noted the Centennial of the Balfour Declaration, which is quite possibly the most maligned piece of correspondence in modern history. Crafted by Lord Arthur James Balfour as a letter to his friend Lord Rothschild, Balfour stated that:

“His Majesty’s government view with favour the establishment in Palestine of a national home for the Jewish people, and will use their best endeavours to facilitate the achievement of this object, it being clearly understood that nothing shall be done which may prejudice the civil and religious rights of existing non-Jewish communities in Palestine, or the rights and political status enjoyed by Jews in any other country.”

That’s it. Sixty-seven words which have been blamed for much of the plight in the Middle East over the past one hundred years. The Declaration doesn’t really say much (and has no legal or legislative value), except to reaffirm publically what was already known privately: The movers and shakers of the British government viewed themselves as Zionists, committed to helping their friends in the Zionist movement work towards establishing a Jewish homeland. Why did this come about?

In school we were taught that Chaim Weizmann, later President of the World Zionist Organization, had an ongoing influence on the British government, on two levels: The first, as a biochemist, he invented a process of distilling acetone from corn, which was vital to the British war efforts. The second, he is considered, to this day, as being a man of enormous personal charm and charisma. His dialog with Balfour was most telling:

“Would you give up London to live in Saskatchewan?” Balfour replied that the British had always lived in London, to which Weizmann responded, “Yes, and we lived in Jerusalem when London was still a marsh.”

But according to recent discussions by historians, there were other, powerful forces at play:

First off, just a short while before the Declaration, the Russian Communist Revolution had occurred. Many of its original leaders were Jewish, and it is hypothesized that the British sought to curry favor with them by supporting “their people”. Second, there was a perception that Jews were wielding strong political influence in the US, and Great Britain did not want the US to prematurely end its participation in The Great War, which was becoming increasingly unpopular in America. Moreover, Great Britain wanted a role in post-war Egypt and Palestine, and this was an excellent way of declaring it in advance. Lastly, and most farfetched, is the notion that due to the dissemination of Anti-Semitic screeds (such as The Protocols of the Elders of Zion) in Europe there was a sense of “perhaps the Jews are running the world” so “let’s hedge our bets”. Since (as historian Tom Segev puts it) “The entire International Zionist Movement existed in Dr. Weizmann’s briefcase” that does not seem very plausible, but history does record that Weizmann was forever hinting at (nonexistent) World Jewish power.

Over the years many have assigned blame for the quandary of the Palestinian people to the Balfour Declaration, conveniently forgetting two facts: First, the Jews desperately needed a Homeland, as Anti-Semitism and Pogroms where on the rise in Europe, and second, that “other” November Declaration, from 1947, in which the United Nations declared the creation of two side-by-side states in Palestine, was wholeheartedly accepted by the Jews, and immediately rejected by the Arab nations, instantly starting Israel’s War of Independence and creating the yet-unsolved Palestinian Refugee crisis, in one fell swoop.

No one in post-Edwardian London during the Fall of 1917 could have predicted the seismic shifts that lay ahead: The greedy, punitive Versailles Treaties, the emergence of Fascism, the importance of Mideast oil, the Holocaust, and the ultimate demise of the British Empire itself. Those fine gentlemen of His Majesty’s Cabinet were simply acting on what they had all learned in the Old Testament classes at Eton and Harrow: The Jews were an ancient people, who deserved a chance to return to their ancestral lands.

Discuss Amongst Yourselves

Word has come out recently that Microsoft’s Digital Assistant “Cortana” (you know, the one that you can talk to) can now communicate with Amazon’s “Alexa”. If engineers could just go ahead and add Apple’s “Siri”, Samsung’s “Bixby”, and “Google Assistant” to the conversation, perhaps the five of them can collectively come up with some interesting ideas and leave the rest of us alone?

I Spy

We’ve all seen this moment, in cheesy movies and bad TV episodes, where someone looks to the sky and recognizes a star which a now-deceased loved one pointed out to them while they were alive, as a sort of mutual touchstone (“Whenever you feel alone, darling, just look up to Orion’s Belt and know that I’m there for you” etc.) I’ve always felt these moments to be somewhat cringe-worthy, until I experienced my own, several weeks ago.

While visiting one of my favorite North Carolina bookstores (Malaprop’s, Asheville, a must-visit if you haven’t been there, just make sure to turn off your cell phone because they will kick you out) I picked up a copy of John le Carre’s recent novel, A Legacy of Spies. Le Carré, a former British Intelligence operative, is the absolute master of the spy thriller, starting with the legendary The Spy Who Came in from the Cold, and continuing with the Cold War epics dealing with the “Circus” (AKA “MI6”) and its battles with Eastern European agencies. His books are masterfully written, with great emphasis on the inner doubts and fears of inadequacy of his heroes, in a manner that positions him as Graham Greene’s true heir.

I “discovered” Le Carré as a young teen, thanks to my father, and we would both delve into the bestsellers as they would be published, completely enthralled by “the Karla Trilogy”, which is the ex post facto nickname given to his three epic works, namely Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy, The Honourable Schoolboy, and Smiley’s People. We would read, discuss the plot, and enjoy TV adaptations of the books, certainly a unique bonding point between a father and his son.

As a lifelong fan of his work, I felt a familiar “tingle” as I started to turn the pages, which quickly became an overwhelming rush, as I had realized that most of the characters mentioned had appeared in previous works, primarily Tinker, Tailor, which this new novel is actually a prequel to. Suddenly I found myself back in the same room with the fantastic, rich dramatis personae from thirty-seven years ago of Peter Guillam, Bill Haydon, Toby Esterhase, Percy Alleline, Roy Bland, and Jim Prideaux, as well as the literary master-spy of all time, George Smiley. Also joining us in the room? My late father, whose presence I could sense through each and every line of the novel, with me essentially finding myself reading it “for both of us”, pausing once in a while to wonder “did you get that, Dad?”

Others may find a touchstone to a departed loved one up in the heavens; for me it was at a downtown Asheville bookstore.

My Heart’s Devotion

As a child, what little I knew about Puerto Rico came from the mouth of West Side Story’s Anita, performed by the incomparable EGOT winner Rita Moreno, who intoned Sondheim’s slightly racist lyrics:

“Puerto Rico,
My heart’s devotion–
Let it sink back in the ocean.
Always the hurricanes blowing,
Always the population growing,
And the money owing.
And the sunlight streaming,
And the natives steaming.”

In later years I learned to follow the astonishing endeavors of those great Puerto Rican ballplayers: The Alomars, Cruzes, Molinas, Hall-of-Famers such as Pudge Rodriguez, and the supreme figure of inspiring selflessness, the late, great Roberto Clemente. And every few years came news of a new referendum in which Puerto Ricans turned down non-binding resolutions to acquire statehood. I have never visited it, and know little of its history, but I can state without qualification: It’s high time for the United States to treat its southern Territory as a welcome member of our nation, and take the following actions:

First off, we should declare a modern “Marshall Plan” for the island. As we all know, on top of its economic crisis, Hurricane Maria caused massive devastation to its infrastructure, killing over five hundred residents. As of the writing of this newsletter, over fifty percent of the inhabitants are still without electricity, the water-supply system is severely impaired, and proper distribution of goods and services are impossible, due to the massive damage to the road system. While the US military stepped-in in the immediate aftermath of the Hurricane, it is not its task to rebuild a society and an economy. But it is up to us. The US has the resources, funding, engineering know-how, and societal support to rebuild Puerto Rico. This is a fantastic opportunity for American corporations to implement cutting-edge energy, communications, and public transportation solutions. Indeed, some of them are doing so: Tesla is providing rechargeable battery capabilities, and Google is helping with Internet access via deployment of communication balloons. But that’s a drop in the bucket: we need to declare a nationally-funded plan to restore and reinvigorate the island. It will be good for Puerto Rico, and great for the rest of the country. Additionally, the protectionist 1920 “Jones Act”, which prevents foreign ships from delivering US goods to the island must be permanently rescinded; it is one of the “original sins” which drove up the cost of living (and of doing business) disproportionately for the islanders.  An investment of say, $200 billion, would give both the Puerto-Rican and the Mainland economy a healthy shot in the arm. That includes Major League Baseball ending its waffling (wiffling?) and establish an expansion team in San Juan. It would probably make the play-offs in its first year…

And second, we should abandon all partisan pretenses and move towards rapidly welcoming Puerto Rico as our fifty-first state. It is absolutely in America’s best interest to have a strong Puerto Rico which also, by definition, includes the clout that comes from having a Congressional delegation and a voice in the Presidential elections.

Success in the rebuilding of Puerto Rico will help strengthen our standing in the Caribbean, and will especially serve as a model to the rest of the region and the world as to how Cuba can eventually be modernized and develop a thriving economy as well.

Politically, this actually represents a great opportunity for Republicans, who have been saying for years that they need to improve their standing and numbers with the Hispanic community. The people of Puerto Rico will undoubtedly show their appreciation in the ballot-box. Moreover, until things are restored “back to normal” on the island, many more Puertorriqueños will continue to move to the mainland. Florida has already received over 140,000 new residents, all legal citizens, who are now Congressional and Presidential voters in our most “purple” state. Whoever wins their vote might very well win the state.

It’s time for President Trump to sit down with the President of Puerto Rico.

Home, Cookin’.

Earlier this year, on the recommendation of a friend, I started to experiment with the Sous-vide method of cooking, in which the food prepared is vacuum-packed and heated to precise temperatures for exacting periods of time, resulting in succulent steaks, chicken, or fish, which are cooked end-to-end to their desired level of doneness. This means that, say, a medium-rare steak cooked in this method will be nice and pink from one edge to the other, as the entire piece of meat is uniformly prepared. No guesswork or particular skills are required: simply let time and temperature do their work for you.

After bucking a very short learning curve I started making meals that produced the juiciest chicken, tastiest beef, and flakiest fish you could imagine. There are excellent online resources for this technique, with people investing time to test, in what are obviously laboratory-like settings, precise temperature and time calculations in order to determine optimal recipes. Cooks have produced elaborate guides and charts, and no less of an engineering authority than Dr. Nathan Myhrvold, formerly Microsoft’s founding Chief Technology Officer, has written a five-volume tome (Modernist Cuisine: The Art and Science of Cooking) covering the topic. Essentially, recipes are boiled down (pun intended) to a set of experiment-like instructions, albeit one in which the result is both wholly predictable and tasty. Just maintain the food at 129.5 degrees for forty minutes (for example), and success is guaranteed.

Fast-forward several months, when my wife and I decided that for this Thanksgiving I should attempt to smoke the turkey. After making some initial inquiries (including with a buddy who advised me to “just use an old trash can”) I settled on a propane-fueled smoker, which seemed to be a bit more compliant with our Homeowner’s Association and Fire Marshall requirements. I had a solid plan in place: I would use the smoker at least three times to master it, after which I should be prepared for the big day. As is my habit, I started by reviewing some online materials and boy, was I in for a surprise: The online Bar-B-Que and Smoking communities are a world unto themselves, replete with trash-talk, confrontation, competition, accusations, secret recipes (and attempts to crack them) and a plethora of do-it-yourselfers who would readily invest thousands of dollars in “improvements” to my lowly $150 Home Depot smoker. You can sign-up for a class to become a certified “Bar-B-Que Judge” and officiate in the numerous competitions conducted year-round, but don’t get too excited: classes are full until mid-next year.  In Sous-Vide, there is only one way to achieve an outcome, and you will achieve it every time. In smoking you’re at best guessing at what you want to create, with a myriad number of paths to varying results. High-quality sniper ‘scopes vs. “Kentucky Windage”. It’s very difficult to maintain precise, constant temperature with an outdoors smoker, wood chips need to be fed to it so that a reasonable level of smoke is maintained, meats need to be “mopped” (moistened) anywhere from every fifteen minutes to hourly, and don’t you dare open and peek at the cooking chamber; apparently the one single thing that the warring factions will agree on is that “If you’re lookin’, you ain’t cookin’”… After sending two kids to college, and a third on the way, I found myself pulling a chair up to the smoker to “monitor” the process, much like I would sit for hours next to the kids’ crib in their infancy, reading them from “Goodnight, Moon”. The one time I walked away, the propane ran out and everything turned stone cold…

Nonetheless I slogged through a batch of overcooked chicken wings, ribs that took six hours to complete (and five minutes to consume), and chicken quarters that were described by my son as “smelling like the NC State Fair”, a sincere compliment if I ever heard one. The turkey took eight hours, the last one of which was completely nerve-wracking – dinnertime was near and the bird was not at the overall temperature I was expecting. I pulled it from the smoker, let it rest the requisite twenty minutes, said a silent prayer, and served. Compliments (and seconds) abounded, which only reinforced what my friend Josh had previously told me: “Sous-vide is a science; Bar-B-Que is a religion”.