Escalation/De-Escalation

 

I escaped my hometown of Evanston IL for a few days, with two adult children and four small dogs in tow.  My thoughts and emotions have been escalating dangerously in the past few weeks.  On the personal front, my sister-in-law died, leaving my infirm brother broken-hearted and bereft.  One of my adult kids spent a week in the hospital to get major depression under control (it seems to have worked, thank goodness).  I am disconnected from my gang of friends and acquaintences due to the on-going pandemic.  I am facing a minor surgical procedure that it is causing me a bit of anxiety.  But hey - I am a very lucky guy overall.  I have a safe home, plenty of resources and a loving family.  Lots of people would love to swap their problems for my problems.

Outside of my personal circle, things have been much worse.  Jacob Blake was shot in Kenosha - weird location for this violence; we used to call it "Kenoplace." Jacob has deep ties to Evanston.  His family includes  prominent local civil rights activists and he went to Evanston Township High School (he graduated one year before my middle kid, Andy).  The unrest in Kenosha is heart-breaking and predictable.  It is an added agony, hard on the heels of another outbreak of anger and looting on Michigan Avenue in Chicago a couple of weeks ago and the George Floyd protests earler in the summer.  So yeah, I have bailed to Galena IL to run away from all of it, to hopefully calm down a little and clear my head.  I might be a coward, but here I am.

Escalation is happening every day on almost every level.  Something awful happens, people take action (i.e. demonstrate, break things, etc.), there is a disproportionate response, which leads to more escalation, and the cycle is launched.  The noise attracts other actors (counter-demonstrators, armed civilians, multiple groups of security forces, allies of the original demonstrators, etc.) and soon we have chaos.  What is remarkable to me is that our illegitimate president is totally unwilling to defuse things.  He throws gas on any fire that he think will help him get re-elected.  

If a guy cuts me off in traffic these days, I might get irritated but I let it go.  Not long ago, I would have laid on my horn, flipped the bird, rolled down the window to cuss the guy out at the next stoplight and generally acted like an asshole.  The guy that cut me off might have responded in kind.  If we had firearms, one of us might have pulled them and someone could be dead.  It took me way too long to realize that my reactions made things worse.  By refusing to escalate, everyone is safe.  I can't control someone from cutting me off in traffic, but I can control how I react.

This is not the same as reacting to yet another criminal shooting by a police officer, but the underlying theory applies.  If the authorities want to preserve calm, they have to be calm.  This seems to be impossible for most police organizations to pull off.  And Trump loves the conflict and yells "Law and Order" while escalating at every opportunity.

I have no idea where current events might be taking us, but I have a feeling that we won't get to a more peaceful place by more escalation.  De-escalation does not mean surrender!! I think that the most effective form of resistance is voting and removing the elected officials that want to divide us - no matter where they reside in the political landscape.

Just a stroll through the neighborhood after Independence Day

My brother once told me that a dog transforms a creepy stalker into a kindly, harmless pet owner.  This is true.  If you are walking your dog, you can dawdle and observe details, including the actions of your neighbors, and everyone smiles and waves.  If you don't have a dog as cover, someone might call 911.

I like to walk my dog around the 'hood and we often end up at Washington School - that is where we headed this morning, the day after Independence Day.   Washington  is housed in a stately building; the school was established 111 years ago.  All four of my children attended this school, so I have many memories of the place. 

This morning, I went past the school and had a look at Mendoza's Garden.  Mr. Mendoza is the head custodian of the school and has a gigantic green thumb.  He led the kids in establishing an outstanding native plants garden, plus a vegetable patch.  School is out, but Mr. Mendoza and his supporters must be on the job because the garden looks fabulous.  The head custodian is often the student's favorite adult in the school; I think Mr. Mendoza deserves all that affection.

Just past Washington School is the Robert Crown Center - a large recreational facility with an in-door ice rink, several softball/baseball diamonds and a  soccer pitch.  I watched some summer camp counselors leading some smallish children through a series of calisthenics - watching first and second graders exercise is a hoot.  The jumping jacks were especially creative.  There were also two middle aged guys doggedly jogging back and forth across the fields.  One was a very white person with no shirt, the other was a well-upholstered Hispanic man.  I admired their determination, and was glad that they were running, and I was not.

I also noticed that a great-great-grandfather of an elm tree had recently been marked with the Green Dot of Death.  In Evanston, we have a problem with Dutch Elm Disease - it has taken down some of our largest and oldest elm trees. When a diseased tree is identified, the city forestry folks dab it with a two inch circle of green paint. At a later date, the Tree Killers arrive and eliminate the quarantined individual.  This particular elm is massive; it stands between the Washington School playground and the Crown Center fields.  This old elm has cast its shade on dozens of generations of schoolchildren..  Whenever I see the Green Dot of Death, I feel pretty bad.

I hit a side street and saw this little guy:

 

This is the black-capped chickadee, a bright and cheerful bird.  He has that terrific song - two notes, descending in a whole step (A natural to G natural, I think).  This bird is more often heard than seen.

As I approached my house, I saw a fellow dog walker.  I know the dogs because I often walk by their house and they make a hellacious racket if they happen to be in the yard.  One dog is massive - a Newfoundland, a shaggy black bear of a canine with a gentle soul.  The second dog is a yappy little poodle/spaniel mix.  The dog walker was a wickedly fit young man in shorts - no shoes, no shirt.  He had some serious tattoos; didn't get a good look, but I thought I saw a large dragon-type image on his back.

There is an epidemic of rabbits in our area this year.  My small one-eyed dog wanted to go all coyote on their fuzzy little asses, but I wouldn't let him.  I dragged Tai away from the bunnies and went home.

So I really didn't see anything special during my stroll today, but it felt quietly special in spite of that.

The UBAA will not rise again.

When I first arrived in Evanston IL to attend graduate school at Northwestern, I was amazed by a strange reality.  It was 1976, and Evanston was a college town that did not have a bar.  This was very wrong and unnatural.  The situation has been corrected - Evanston is now rotten with drinking establishments (disguised as restaurants).  But in the late 1970's, drinking an adult beverage while sitting in a cool dark space required a field trip out of town.  The closest watering whole to my first residence in Evanston was the UBAA, right over the northwest border of town in Skokie.

The UBAA (AKA the Old Crawford Inn) was launched in 1939 by Richard Diesterheft.  It was originally named "The U-Bar" in honor of its'uniquely-shaped bar.  Sometime in the 1950's, the local politicos passed an ordinance prohibiting the use of the word "Bar" in the name of a drinking establishment ( now THAT was over-regulation!!).  Richard shrugged and re-named his joint "The UBAA Tap."  In my view, this was a brilliant piece of passive resistance against tyranny.

The UBAA attracted thirsty Evanstonians like dog poop attracts files.  Every night was Saturday night.  You could also catch the Cubs in the afternoon and suck down a couple of Old Styles.  Until the 1990's, the joint had little competition.  The beer was cold, the food was decent, the hamburgers were especially good.  The Diesterheft family owned and operated the joint for 4 generations.  It was a constant in a sea of change.  One of my favorite Saturday afternoon treats was to ride my bike on a 6+ mile route to the UBAA, have a Fat Tire and a burger, then ride home.  The UBAA was an old-fashioned neighborhood tavern, a gathering place with regulars; a small business that sponsored Little League teams and bowling leagues.  It wasn't a fancy place; it was in a non-nondescript building that had several funky local retail businesses (vacuum cleaner repair shop, window and siding store, etc), but it played a role valuable role in the community.

Late last year, the UBAA abruptly closed.  It might have been due to a deterioration of the business; it might of been due to electrical code violations uncovered by the Village of Skokie during an inspection, maybe the Diesterheft family just ran out of energy for the enterprise.  There is a huge "For Sale or Lease" sign in the parking lot.  There is a hole in the fabric of the neighborhood.

Being a curious person, I called the realtor's number on the big sign in the UBAA's parking lot.  I learned that the property is under contract, has been for several months, and the sale should close in a week.  At first, I thought that the UBAA would rise again, under new ownership, but the news isn't good for fans of neighborhood taverns. The realtor said it will be torn down and a new development will take its place.  The realtor wouldn't tell me what new building would be put in its place; it will be a commercial development, not residential.  Please, no fast food!!

So after 73 years, The UBAA is about to be buried.  It was a long run, and the joint is missed.