So, Who's The Bear?

Bear is my nickname.

In his fine book "Dear Me", Sir Peter Ustinov said that when he was in drama school he and his fellow students spent an entire term "being an animal in order to 'broaden our horizons'". Some chose predators or victims, depending on their temperament. Ustinov found it easy to adapt the persona of a salamander. Thus he figuratively sat on a rock observing the goings-on, not moving much, fading into his own background.

Some women are said to be "catty". Some take on the persona of the female of the canine species. Men might be like bulls, or pigs. Others are lionine in their demeanor or appearance.

This introduction will tell you a bit about me, and will give you some idea of what is to come in future commentaries.

Where am I from?

I was born in 1949 in Los Angeles. My early years were spent in a lovely home where I had plenty of room to play and lots of things to do. I was surrounded with more reading material than anyone could hope for.

In 1958 I became a latchkey kid before the term was fashionable. It was when day care consisted of neighborhood mothers watching out for each others' kids and your own parents saying "get your butt home or go over to Mark's house after school. Do what Auntie Dottie tells you. And put in three potatoes at 375 at 5 PM".

Strange how well that seemed to work. No day care centers, and we had our own "village" raising the kids. A friend's mother was "Auntie" and his dad was "Uncle" without any of the vulgar connotations of today.

The worst trouble I got into was breaking a window in my own house by slamming a door really hard, and egging a neighbor's yard. (I still don't know why I did that...)

I didn't kill anyone or hold up any stores. My grades? Let's talk about something else.

Child of the Fifties

I remember lining up for that new and blessed discovery: the polio vaccine. Before my time, Franklin Roosevelt had asked thousands of wealthy men to donate thousands of dollars each for polio research. A radio entertainer called Eddie Cantor suggested it be a national effort where millions of people could each donate one dollar. Everyone would be able to fight the war against this crippling disease. Thus was born the March of Dimes. 1955 saw the results of research done with that money. They continue to this day battling birth defects.

Teen of the Sixties: Remembrances

I remember being in co-ed dancing class on Friday, November 22, 1963 when John F. Kennedy was assassinated, allegedly by Lee Harvey Oswald. That weekend I was buttering a bagel in our kitchen on West 4th Street in Los Angeles when I heard shots from our 55 pound "portable" TV. I looked up to see Oswald fall to the floor fatally wounded.

I remember walking into the Eugene McCarthy campaign headquarters in Altadena five years later to discuss the previous night's assassination of Robert Kennedy.

I remember cities across the nation coming apart at the seams when Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated that same year.

I remember one very sensible thing Ronald W. Reagan did as governor of California: closing the colleges to let things calm down for about 2 weeks after the Kent State shootings. As much as I disliked that man I believe he saved many lives and prevented much sorrow by that one act and for that he has my sincerest and unqualified thanks.

College was where I made one of my worst mistakes: I majored in broadcasting and film making. Hey folks, this was a really great two-year major to take at a city college, but my error was to go for a 4 year degree in this field. I later found out that, in those days at least, you got your start in broadcasting by hanging around a local station. You harangued the owners until they threw you out and banned you from the property or gave you a two-hour show at 3:00 in the morning to get you out of their hair. I should have taken some sort of a business major and been done with it.

You do really stupid things when you have the draft hanging over your head. Ironically I ended up flunking the draft board physical. Several years later, with improved health, I made it into the Navy and copied radio signals for four years.

After dropping out of college I worked in two plants owned by my father like I had done for several summers over the years. Communication with some of the other workers proved hard at times because I did not know much Spanish. However, I never worked with a nicer, harder-working bunch. These men wanted to work! (Celedonio, José, Senior Luna: I think of you fellows often).

Over the years I worked in everything from sorting high-nickel alloy scrap metal to managing Radio Shack Stores. Today, I struggle to make ends meet while attempting to found a business that does lighting design, and energy management and control studies.

My Perspective

Vietnam reared its ugly head around my junior high and high school years. We had a few guys who wanted to go defend our nation from Atheisticommunism (all one word to the reactionary talking heads of the time). Many of the rest of us wondered what in hell we were doing there.

The news reports on the radio and TV were not good; the lying from our politicians was becoming so blatant. I remember sitting in the waiting area at one of those new (and long-since gone) do-it-yourself dry-cleaners watching the news. It was on a then-rare color TV set. Ngo Dinh Diem had just been assassinated in Vietnam and things were escalating rapdily. Kennedy was killed soon after, Lyndon Johnson assumed office and (surprise, surprise) the war escalated. The 60s had indeed begun.

Remember all those news reports about hippies yelling "baby killer" at military folks, and spitting on them in airports? I also remember how the American Legion and the Veterans of Foreign Wars turned away so many of those same military people. They said Vietnam was not a real war, and that the returning GIs were a bunch of losers. I often wonder if Accuracy in Media would have cited press bias when this story was not covered in the "liberal" press.

What I DO remember many long-hairs doing: they worked with returning GIs helping them to get the benefits and medical help they needed or were entitled to. They walked the halls of college dorms with the student veteran who had just screamed himself awake with his latest nightmares. Strange how little press coverage that got, too. AIM, where were you when we needed you?

Politics

I have been across a good part of the political spectrum. I was brought up in a staunchly Democrat household. My mother never voted Republican in her life until a member of the White Aryan Resistance got nominated for Congress on the Democrat ticket in her district.

I started my political work at the age of 7. I blew up and passed out balloons on Hollywood Boulevard for a mortician who was running for Congress. He never made it although I am sure he was dying to get elected.

I campaigned for Eugene McCarthy when I was 19. When Richard Daley handed the nomination to Hubert Humphrey I sat the rest of the campaign out, seeing no real difference between him and Nixon on the Vietnam issue. Nixon got the Presidency, Humphrey died of cancer later on, I got to vote in '70, and the rest is history.

Today, my political beliefs are hard to peg down if one goes by the "standards" set by various pundits and talking heads. In future columns you will see me take stances that may be "liberal" one week, and "conservative" the next. It all depends on what it is about.

I am a capitalist and a believer in free markets. I believe government should be brought back down to the level specified in our Constitution. I believe there has been entirely too much federalization of laws and law enforcement, and of our very existence.

Welfare as it exists now is wrong, whether for corporations or those not willing to work. Those who really are in circumstances beyond their control need a leg up; I understand this. But income redistribution in the name of "being fair", or giving to those who refuse to do ANYTHING for their keep is where I draw the line. I believe in law and order when it comes to crimes that involve victims.

I part company completely with the standard-issue right-wing philosophies on social issues:

• I do not give two hoots in hell about the sex lives of consenting adults. Do what you want as long as you will not cause embarrassment to others or frighten the horses. What folks do that affects me and my fellow citizens is more my concern.
• A mind-altering substance is a mind-altering substance. A federal tax stamp on the neck of the bottle or the cellophane on the packet makes it no more or less "legitimate" than if it grows wild on a hillside somewhere.
• I do not judge people by whether they are religious, or what religion they choose to practice. This is of course as long as their religious beliefs end where my right to live in peace begins.
• I do not judge people by their skin color, the sound of their surname, or what part of the world their people came from.
• Folks are the same to me whether their antecedents' footprints first fell on Plymouth Rock, the dock at Castle Garden, or the tarmac at Camp Pendleton. What matters to me is their character.

I also part company with the right wing about any desire to return to "the good old days". Traditional Family Values? Whose traditions? Whose family? Whose values? Family structure is evolving, and it always has. Does it really matter WHO makes up a family if the love and caring is there? I for one think not. If Heather has two mommies, or Daddy has a roommate, so what? Is the household a stable one? Is the kid loved? Happy? Cared for? Well-behaved? Those are the issues, not "tradition".

Prejudices? Sure I have them; we all do. But I try to keep things in perspective. My four years in the Navy did wonders for helping me see the way the other fellow thinks.

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