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Home  Community Voices A Voyage To The East
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A Voyage To The East |
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Written by Lionel Rolfe
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Friday, 11 September 2009 |
A few days before President Obama gave his rousing speech on healthcare before Congress, my wife Boryana and I made a journey to the east, visiting relatives inside the Beltway and taking what might possibly be my last look at New York City.
If Obama accomplishes one thing that would set him apart from all the other presidents, passing a healthcare bill would be that mammoth accomplishment.
I felt as if Obama were speaking directly to me when he said that those who want a single payer system should not look to him. I still believe single payer would be the most effective way of providing this nation good healthcare, comparable to the healthcare offered in other western democracies.
I admit to having a bias against capitalism. For years, Obama has made it clear he favors capitalism, albeit a progressive, regulated kind of capitalism like we haven’t seen since the New Deal. Personally, I believe more in an outright blending of socialism and capitalism, that system in Europe known as social democracy. Greed is not the best motivator in setting up a decent healthcare system.
Still, I accept that the way out of the healthcare crisis at this point might best be a regulated capitalism because that is the only realistic alternative. And while I might quibble with Obama about socialism and capitalism, it is a pleasure to have an intelligent, progressive and literate man at the helm of the ship of state.
Despite the presence of socialist Bernie Sanders as the U.S. senator from Vermont, I doubt the United States is quite ready for a socialist president.
Which brings me to a part of the reason we had voyaged to the East, other than the fact my wife Boryana wanted to see the other coast of her adopted country.
I had been reluctant to go because I long ago came to the conclusion that I was more a Californian than an American. I especially felt that when the Bushes were in power, and some of the time with Clinton, who moved to the right on deregulation, partly, I suspect, because the Republicans were squeezing his balls over the Monica affair. Even if it now turns out most right-wing Republicans seem to be child molesters or else very hypocritical heterosexuals.
Much of my California patriotism grew out of my love for the Californian Bohemian tradition, begun by Mark Twain during the Gold Rush and continued by writers like Jack London, John Steinbeck, Upton Sinclair, Sinclair Lewis and Jack Kerouac. I was convinced the best American writers were significantly the products of California and not New York.
But on this trip to New York, Kevin Walsh, author of Forgotten New York, kindly showed us around the Village, and the first thing he showed us was a plaque for Tom Paine at the spot where he had once lived. Paine was, of course, the revolutionary war author who wrote Common Sense and The Rights of Man. Paine was a childhood hero of mine, along with Twain. We also ate the best hamburger I’ve had in a long time in a fancy, overpriced restaurant.
Next, we visited Roger Black, the foremost graphic designer and typographer in the country today, who I knew in Los Angeles nearly four decades ago.
Roger lives in an apartment overlooking Gramercy Park, a ritzy exclusive private park belonging to Roger and his neighbors.
He thinks the crisis in print is partly due to an enormous decline in the quality of New York editors, but he thinks when the final role of print and digital are defined, people will continue reading — and perhaps more importantly, writing. His optimism cheered me up a bit.
We visited the eastern edge of Long Island, an indescribably beautiful pastoral, wooded green land next to the Atlantic Ocean, where much of this country’s revolutionary history was written. We were guided in our efforts by author and musician Nigey Lennon, my former wife, and her partner, Eric Weaver.
Our visit then to the nation’s capital made me confront my identity as a Californian and American even more directly. True, I have traveled enough to understand that for better or for worse, an American I am.
But this American hadn’t been in the District of Columbia in more than four decades. Back then, I was able to climb the entire spiral staired ascent inside the Washington Monument, a feat I probably could not do today.
This time I was struck by a curious thing — I was taken back by how relatively small the White House was among all the great buildings and museums in the nation’s civic center.
I had a similar epiphany when I first emerged from Victoria Station in London, and marched toward the Thames. Victoria Station was impressive enough in its size, but the city I emerged into seemed so much smaller just in physical appearance than Californian towns like San Francisco and Los Angeles.
My revelation was probably due to no more than the fact that the technology of construction has made things much bigger than in 1792 when they started building the White House.
Mostly the anomaly of impressive size and age requires that the White House must be occupied by someone larger than life. Someone like the man who occupies the place now.
He has made me aware that I am both a Californian and an American.
*
Lionel Rolfe’s books and writings can be seen at www.boryanabooks.com.
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