Tuesday, February 21, 2023

100 Billion Souls

The Universe by Michael Hooper

There are 100 billion souls on the other side
They live in the ethereal afterlife
Some live in my memory
Some in my heart

Like a gigantic swath of solar power
The dead rise up, giving life to history 
in books and manuscripts 
these noisy ghosts try to change the direction of humanity

The artist is hard at work, toiling away in poverty and shame 
Injustice everywhere, yet he carries on with a passion for his art, 
he knows there is something exquisitely divine 
in the wonderment of sands washed upon the shore.

Trash comes up from the ocean and spits out plastic on shore, the Earth is trying to heal itself.

Pain and anguish are unending. He prays without ceasing, he hopes for a moment of relief.

The artist knows the sublime beauty of the sounds of the sea at night 
He looks at the dazzling lights in the dark sky and
contemplates the knowledge that there are more stars in the universe than sands on the Earth.

He ponders the vastness of the universe and what is beyond.

The artist has neglected his lover; she is feeling abandoned. 
Where is my husband? she cries. Why is he not here beside me in bed?
why does he wander the streets at night like a vampire? 
When is his wanderings going to end?

The artist believes he will never feel satisfaction, contentment, or peace, because the bubbling inferno of his soul constantly is striving for the heavens

Searching for harmony, a glow in wonderment, 
100 billion souls haunt him tonight. What are they doing in this afterlife?
Where are they going? What are they thinking about? 
Do my parents pray for me? This soul lying here, on this empty beach at midnight.

He says, "Alone, alone, alone, I wander, I strive, I struggle to create something sublime."  

The artist walks the ruins of Rome, graveyards of statues, chasing mystic reveries and ghosts among the 100 billion in the afterlife.  He finds these beautiful ecstasies a melancholy sweetness.

And in the morning he feels despair raging with sadness, pain and emptiness.

When she finds him awake, she says, don’t spend another minute, chasing the dead, your friends are among the living, these cemeteries are just in your head.

Death is the ultimate conquerer of life, but don’t stop fighting now, 
you have a long life ahead of you, 
death may win in the end, but today is for the living, 
go now, and climb your mountains, swim in the seas, 

Make love to me
engage with your friends, 
there is joy, and peace for the man of love 

Buildings crumble, ships decay, 
and people die, but love lasts forever


-Michael Hooper, Feb 21, 2023

Thursday, February 16, 2023

Artie Ravitz Remembers John Lewis


John Lewis, young & old
Credit Wikimedia Commons

Editor's note: In celebration of Black History Month, I want to remember the legendary civil rights activist John Lewis who was born on Feb. 21, 1940, and died July 17, 2020. My friend Artie Ravitz met Lewis while he was a student at Penn State University. Ravitz witnessed extraordinary events while in the company of John Lewis. I met Ravitz while staying in Esperanza, Vieques, PR in January. Ravitz, 82, is a former toy manufacturer, who now devotes himself to writing about various topics including civil rights and crime. Here is his story: 

By Artie Ravitz

         I had seen the horrible beating of 300 citizens of Selma Alabama, and    civil rights workers on the 6 pm TV news, on March 7, 1965, while attending a NY toy show. I was so upset that I told my wife Susie that I was leaving the following morning for the next Selma march. She stopped me by telling me that there would be no march tomorrow. Instead, I should call the SNCC (Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee) office in the morning, to get word about the date for the next march. She was right. When I called the SNCC office,  Constancia "Dinky" Romilly, the Northern Coordinator, promised that she would call me when SNCC leaders had spoken with government officials and had settled on a new date for the next march. 

         The march was the culmination of years of voting efforts, by SNCC and others, to conduct voting classes throughout Alabama and Mississippi. SNCC was a small civil rights group of students who led the student sit-ins in states throughout the South and currently were concentrating their efforts to teach voting in two of the toughest states governments whose officials tried to keep Black voter registration down to an absolute minimum.

          In 1965, all SNCC efforts were focusing on one thing, getting the right to vote for all persons of color in the South. So, it was a big deal for millions of Black citizens of the USA, to see state officers and Alabama State Troopers, charging into the marchers, on horses and on foot, with clubs, assaulting and beating the marchers until they fell back and returned over the bridge to Selma. 

        I had been sending “care packages” to the SNCC voting rights workers who were only getting $9.00 per week for bare necessities of life, when Dinky called me back a week later. She told me that the new march would be the 20th of March, but that I should come directly to the SNCC office a day before, in Atlanta, and join the SNCC officers on their drive to Selma. I agreed to her offer. Dinky and I had been speaking for the past few years. Eight days later, Lee Harris and I drove to Newark Airport, jumped onto a plane to Atlanta, and took a taxi to the SNCC office in Atlanta. 

         We arrived there early afternoon and after greetings, we are told to wait in the lunch room and help ourselves to sandwiches until Dinky would tell us when we were leaving for Selma. Just before 4 pm, Dinky came in, telling us that everyone was waiting downstairs for us, ready to leave. Lee and I went down stairs and joined them. Lee got into an old blue Chevy and I got into the white '52 station wagon. Both cars left for Selma at the same time.  

         The Atlanta traffic did not allow us to stay together and soon we were weaving in and out of traffic, heading northwest. At one stop light, there was a cop looking into the car. That was when the short guy sitting next to my right, pushed my head down. A few blocks later, we spotted a police car nearby when the short guy sitting near to me again pushed my head down. 

         After the second time, I decided to ask him why he was pushing my head down. He told me that he did not want the cops to see me in a car full of Black guys. I found out later that the short guy’s name was John Lewis and he was the current chairman of SNCC. After we passed the police car, he explained to me that he did not mind being arrested when he was on the Selma March; but, he did not want to be arrested by some racist cop stuck out here in the “boonies”, where he could be forced to miss the big Selma to Montgomery march, and have to wait a few days until he got bailed out. 

          Three hours later, after having my head pushed down a few more times, we arrived at the small town of Tuskegee, Alabama, and a few minutes later, the entrance to Tuskegee College, in northern Alabama. The driver stopped directly in front of the dining room. When we entered, the SNCC kids were greeted as home town heroes. I learned later that many of the students here were SNCC summer voting rights workers. John told me that we stopped here because it was one of the few places where we could safely eat as a mixed group. After an hour discussion, a warm meal, and warm goodbyes from everyone, we jumped back into the car and headed southwest toward Selma.

          When we got Selma, we again stopped at an integrated diner for a light snack. After we were done, none of the SNCC kids would get up to leave.  Each asked the other to go outside to see if their car was still there. They were giggling and kidding about delaying our departure, but I didn’t know why. But after one guy finally, got up and left, we all followed him out. I was told later that the joke was about all of them being afraid to go out, since 10 days earlier Reverend Jim Reeb, a white minister, was dragged out of the restaurant, beaten by a white mob and dying two days later. Humor was their way of living with the grief of his murder.

          The March to Montgomery started at 10 a.m. the following day. John Lewis was up front, of course, with Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and other dignitaries and I was half way back walking with, talking to and listening to Joan Baez sing a few songs, and to Dick Gregory tell us a few jokes. 

         John Lewis held on to the chairmanship of SNCC for a few more years and participated in hundreds of demonstrations and arrested 40 more times until other more militant members took over the reigns of SNCC because the SNCC leadership got frustrated and in 1967, the organization's leadership was taken over by H. Rap Brown and Stokley Carmichael. The new leadership took a more militant path calling for “Black power” for Afro-Americans. They had many followers. The Black Panthers movement grew out of their efforts.

         The big mistake the new SNCC leadership made was they began flirting with the Palestinian terrorist group who persuaded SNCC leadership to publish photos showing Jews shooting Palestinians, who had their hands up. But, as soon as the ADL ( Anti Defamation League ) learned of SNCC’s mislabeling of the photos, the ADL published the same photos, which had been taken 30 years earlier, but which were taken of German troops aiming at Jews with their hards up in the Warsaw Ghetto taken in 1944. This major scandal caused SNCC to loose 75% of their funding and forced them to close their doors, for good, a year later.

         When Lewis was 17 years old, he went Montgomery to speak with Dr Martin Luther King for help him in getting into all white Troy State College, but although King offered to help, his family was against a law suit, so he dropped the idea. But, from that day on, Dr. King continued call Lewis, “the Boy from Troy.” After he attended a workshop of a follower of a Gandhi philosopher on non-violence, he joined CORE to participate in many sit-ins at Lunch counters, movie theaters, and businesses. He was elected to the board of the (Southern Christian Leadership Conference) SCLC in 1962, and in 1963, he organized and took over the  leadership of SNCC.

     But, John Lewis did not stop there. In 1963, he helped organize and spoke at the historic March on Washington where Dr. King gave his famous, “I have a Dream” speech for jobs and for an end of racial discrimination. And on Sunday, March 7, 1965, John Lewis led 600 members of Selma voting group over the, now famous, Edmund Pettus Bridge, only to be beaten back by brutal Alabama State Troopers with clubs injuring a hundred marchers. This brutal attack was seen in hundreds newspapers all over the world and became known as “Bloody Sunday.” 

         After leaving SNCC, Lewis took a job with the Field Foundation in NY City organizing voter registration campaigns all over the segregated South. He was successful in adding 4 million minority voters to the voting rolls, forever changing the voting landscape. In 1981 he was elected to the Atlanta City Council and in 1986, to the US Congress. He authored many bills favoring civil rights, lobbied for the poor, disadvantaged and was re-elected to Congress 16 times.  

         When Susie told me that John Lewis was speaking at Moravian College, we immediately decided to go and hear his talk. I called his office the following morning and spoke with Mike, his legislative assistant, telling him that I would like to speak with him for a few minutes.  Mike agreed to give John my message.

         The following Thursday, Suzie and I got there early enough to get two front seats in the auditorium. We listened to John’s speech about how he learned to speak by giving speeches to the chickens in his dad’s chicken coop and what his plans were for the following year in Congress. The auditorium was packed with his admirers and he got long lasting applause after his talk.  

         We went up and gave each other a hug and asked about each other’s health. We then spoke about the ride to Selma, and when he was pushing my head down so that the cops would not see me in the SNCC car. We parted again with hugging each other when saying goodbye. 

         It was quite a thrill for me to see him again and remember many of the things John went through to protect the rights of his fellow man. It was a great end to an early decade and chapter of my life; but for John Lewis, the fight goes on. John Lewis died on July 17th, 2020, of pancreatic cancer at age of 80.  He left our world, as one of the top Civil Rights heroes of the 21st Century.

               

Michael Hooper & Artie Ravitz eat breakfast together in Vieques, PR

                                



 

 

Monday, December 5, 2022

FTX Bankruptcy Should Be Wake-Up Call For Congress & Investors


Sam Bankman-Fried

By Michael Hooper

The failure of Sam Bankman-Fried's company FTX has far reaching implications. Even though it operated in the Bahamas, many investors, including the state pension fund of Kansas, are from the United States.

FTX, an international cryptocurrency exchange, and its subsidiaries filed for bankruptcy on November 11. The company at one time was valued at $32 billion, but now more than a million customers fear their assets are gone.

Bankman-Fried told the New York Times Deal Book conference in Manhattan that the failure of his company was due to huge management failures, and sloppy accounting. But others like CoinDesk say the failure was due to the company using customer funds for the hedge fund Alemeda Research, losing much of the money on bad trades with too much leverage.

The Missouri public pension fund invested $1 million into FTX via Blockrock, a money manager. The Kansas pension fund KPERs invested $187,400 into FTX.

Sam Bankman-Fried had specifically promised customers it would never lend out or otherwise use the crypto they entrusted to the exchange.

Another red flag with FTX is the lack of a Board of Directors. Operating in the Bahamas, it appears there was little oversight. A board of directors can provide accountability and oversight while conducting annual audits to make sure the books are clean.

How Sequoia Capital, a reputable investment firm, gave $213 million to FTX as an investment is beyond me. Promoters billed Sam Bankman-Fried as a wonder kid who grew up with highly educated parents in Silicon Valley. He believes in effective altruism; earning as much as possible so you can donate it to charity. But the reality is Sam Bankman-Fried is a con man. He was holding up a house of cards with his mouth.

David Morris at crypto website, CoinDesk, says many news outlets have perniciously described what happened to FTX as a bank run or a run on deposits. But the exchange was not a bank. The big problem is that FTX assets were intimately linked to the trading firm Alameda Research where it seems they were simply gambled away, Morris wrote.

FTX was using leverage to make trades. Leverage can be very dangerous. Extreme levels of leverage brought down some of the biggest financial houses in history, including Lehman Brothers and Bear Stearns.

The FTX failure should be a wakeup call to Congress, which has failed to come up with a formal crypto regulatory policy, even though Bitcoin has been around since 2009.

When public pension funds in Kansas and Missouri put money into crypto companies like FTX without any real scrutiny, the public is likely to get burned. I know I could have managed that money much better than Sam Bankman-Fried. I got into crypto in 2017 and sold out in 2018 and moved the proceeds into my vacation fund. I also invested some of the proceeds into gold and Berkshire Hathaway. Both choices turned out well. I still own a little crypto but never saw the crypto market as stable enough for large amounts of assets.

I wouldn't recommend betting your retirement on crypto assets. It's better to have your wealth diversified across stocks, bonds and real estate.


Tuesday, November 29, 2022

Your Last Act

Ken Lindeen

By Michael Hooper

The death of a friend has reminded me how important it is for us to give people our very best with kindness all the way to the very end of our lives.

Ken Lindeen, 68, died tragically in a house fire a couple of days after he had done work for me at my house.

Another contractor was doing some drywall work in our basement and noticed that an electrical outlet was shorting out. I called a friend of mine who recommended Ken Lindeen.  Ken came over right away and fixed the outlet, which was ungrounded. He also fixed other outlets to make sure they were grounded. He came back another day to finish his work but had one more outlet to do and left me a message saying he would come back but he died tragically the next day on Nov. 17, 2022.

I am grateful for the kindness and generosity Ken showed me in his last days of his life.  Indeed, he first showed up on a Saturday, typically a day off, but he came out to help me.

Recently,  a former employer’s spouse died. I recall the last time I tried to talk to her, she was stuck up, better than thou, and wanted nothing to do with me even after I tried my charming best to win her over, she left a bad taste in my mouth, and to this day, I can’t get rid of it. She can’t make up for all the mistakes that she made being an elitist. She can't offer any apologies. It's too late. She's dead.

My friend Ken was no elitist for sure. Indeed, he was quite humble. He had been on top of the world when he was creative director for Payless Shoesource, but his crowning glory fell away after the death of his son in a car accident in 2001. When Ken and Chris Wright came to my house to do some floor refinishing in the early 2000s Ken was still suffering from the loss of his son. He was tearful and shaken up when he displayed his pain, but somehow he found his way and carried on like a soldier with grief just below the surface. In my last encounter with Ken, he helped me without grumbling or anger; he gave with kindness the best he had to offer.

I don’t know when I will die. No one does. But surely it will happen soon as I am approaching 60 years of age. I have made some of these same mistakes, elitism, ungratefulness, meanness, pride, arrogance, gluttony, and a few others, but I am not giving up. Redemption is possible. Jesus commands us to love God with all our heart, all our soul and all our might and to love one another as we love ourselves. There is a kindness in my soul that I want to bring out. The Beatles had it right. Love is all you need.

The lesson here is to make our last act our best one. Give when we don’t feel like giving. Help others when we don’t feel like helping. Love others when we don’t feel like loving. Take the time to call someone who could use the attention, offer an ear, don’t do all the talking, listen and love. It may be your last act.


Tuesday, November 1, 2022

Cry For My World

Square, Pleasure & Death by Michael Hooper

I’m hearing this industrial sound
of cars, trucks and motorcycles;
an intersection of steel, gas and rubber
pounding the pavement
The machinery of our lives

It’s a mad world 
run by a specialized stop and go system

Stop and go, stop and go
The semblance of order
in chaos and smog that
tears holes in the atmosphere

dry winds and empty waterways
bring a scorching dryness 
to the Southwest.
 
Lake Powell and Lake Mead are empty mud holes
showcasing the skeletons of their past
the Colorado river all used up

Now the Mississippi River is drying up, 
the sands have opened up 
walkers look for treasure in the muddy shipwrecks of the river.
Barge traffic is dying because of the shortage of water.

It's the fast incineration of Earth
No wonder William Shatner
After a trip into space
shed tears for this fragile planet

Like an aging man on meth
Earth dies faster 
losing its balance
with rising temperatures

Cry for our Earth
Cry for our Earth
Save our Planet

We need to change
the stop and go 
system
the machinery of our lives
so that our systems
benefit the Earth
not destroy it


-Michael Hooper



Monday, October 31, 2022

Nature's Last Golden Glowing

 



Red Tree at Illif Commons
by Michael Hooper


October is Nature's Last Golden Glowing
Leaves are singing 
"look at me, look at me, before I die."

Red, brown, yellow and gold
Are the colors in my eyes 
Autumn is enchantment
with a creative vibe

Before it’s gone 
I carry my blanket and art supplies 
to the prairie, to capture
nature's magic moment 

I see foliage and trees dressed 
in orange, green and brown 
dancing in the wind around
a red crimson tree

A runner stops to take a picture
of this lovely oak tree
full of glory

This tree with its
intoxicating red leaves
is a poet's delight 
You raise me up 
like transcendent dreams

You take me away
from the madness of the world

Lying on this prairie
overlooking big skies
I see planes 
at 36000 feet

I see the chem trails of
passenger jets
criss crossing the sky

The light changes in October
The skies are more gray

October nights
are filled with mystery
and melancholy 

The turn of the earth
kills most of the light
By candle light I sit
A sad mystery 
is left behind
Why does my heart
feel so sad, so bad

Such a fleeting moment, 
October's golden glowing,
now it is already
November, the reining
month for gray


Michael Hooper
Nov. 1, 2022


Friday, October 21, 2022

Why Paris?

Notes for talk 6:30 pm Friday. Oct. 21, 2022, with Visual Artists of Topeka at Arts Connect, NOTO Arts District



Heather at Les Deaux Magots, Paris

It’s fantastic that you are all here tonight. Thank you. Some of the brightest minds I know in the world are here in this room. This should make for an engaging experience for all of us. Feel free to interrupt me at any time to make comments or questions.

Every artist has likely experienced some time in their life a heightened sense of awareness, a transcendental, meditative state, inspired by a place where they are at their creative best. For me it is a state of being connected to my subject, feeling a sense of the sublime. I'm furiously trying to capture this feeling, this message, this composition that is saying paint me, paint me, paint me.


In some ways the experience of creating art is superior to the outcome. Yet what remains is something startling to the eyes, a reminder of this magnificent state of transcendence. How do we sustain this artistic feeling? Sometimes you find it in a place. You go to this place, you feel this place, you draw and paint this place and suddenly your brain reflects this place and you see it in your dreams.


For three years I was working on my art in my studio, and dreaming of going to Paris. Why Paris? Because it is the art and literary capital of the world, there is a painting around every corner. I'm in love with its art and architecture, parks, food and culture, its people and their language. 


A year ago at this time I was there living in a hotel on the rue de Seine, making this dream a reality. I experienced Paris with my own eyes as an artist, it was a delight and a challenge and sometimes uncomfortable and even painful doing something I’ve never done before, meeting people I had never met, and experiencing conversations with other artists and writers. 


The outcome was actually pretty good. I feel very grateful that I painted a dozen paintings of Paris, most of them while I was there, and then produced a book about it three months later. I was in the Paris zone. I came back a better painter. This talk will focus on my 21 day experience in Paris and briefly in Puerto Rico and then back to Paris again over the summer with my wife.