Taste In Destinations

Yesterday morning I kept with my riding plan for this heat wave, which is expected to continue at least until Sunday.  Once again, I set out after quick breakfast--coffee and two English muffins pan-toasted with olive oil, fresh-ground black pepper and rosemary--early.  

(I like butter as much as anyone does.  But I feel that olive oil is more elegant.  Maybe it has to do with my Italian heritage.)

My trip took me to Fort Totten and back, via the Malcolm X Promenade and some zigging and zagging through northeastern Queens residential streets.  All told, I did about 40 km (25 miles) round-trip before 10 am.  And, yes, I did get my fresh Greek yogurt from Kesso's:  Their hours coincided with mine.

At Fort Totten, I could see how hot an humid the day would be--and, in spite of the clear skies at that moment, I could tell, from the haze on Long Island Sound,  that the storm forecast for the afternoon would indeed drop lots of water very quickly and hard:  the thunder almost seemed to be an echo of the rain pounding against the sidewalks.

I felt confident, though, that I would get to my place before the storm.  Maybe it had something to do with riding Tosca, my Mercian fixed gear: I couldn't coast; I had no choice but to pedal.  It felt really good.

 

Somehow I think she knew that house was officer's quarters when Fort Totten was still an active military base. (A small section, fenced off, is still used for Army Reserve exercises, and the Fire Department trains in another part.)  My bikes have such good taste in their destinations!

Windshield Bias

Many of us envy countries like the Netherlands and Denmark, where people cycle even if they have other transportation or recreation options.  Here in the US, we have "bicycle friendly" (a relative term, to be sure) islands in a motor-centric sea.

One reason for the difference between the cycling environments has to do with policies. Europeans seem to understand what it takes to make bicycling safe and practical enough for people to choose it over driving or other forms of transportation, at least for short trips. In America, on the other hand the notion of "bicycle friendliness" seems to consist of building bicycle lanes--which, as I've said in other posts, are too often poorly-conceived, -constructed and -maintained--and passing "safety" regulations that bear no relation to the experience of riding.

A reason for so much misguided policy, I believe, has to do with media coverage.  I'm not familiar with what the Danes and Dutch print or broadcast, but I suspect that it's less auto-centric than what the French see and hear which, in turn, seems like tout l'Equipe compared to what we see on our pages and screens in America.

Now, some might say that I am in a "Big Apple Bubble."  It's true that on many issues--including, ahem, gun rights (Guns have rights?)--most New Yorkers, including yours truly, think differently from a state legislator in Mississippi or Texas.  But from what I've been seeing and hearing, New York City's news stories aren't the only ones infected with "windshield bias."

That apt phrase came to me from Christian MilNeil, a reporter on the Boston edition of Streetsblog.  In his article, he describes how the city's broadcast news programs and newspapers have framed the debates in neighboring Cambridge over bike lanes and pedestrianizing public spaces.  He noted something I've seen here in New York: the debates are too often framed as "bike lanes vs. parking spaces" or some other false equivalency, as in "we have more important issues, like gun violence and affordable housing."

I will not argue that gun violence and affordable housing are not urgent issues. But comparing issues is not useful.  Moreover, how does making a park car-free prevent the  construction of apartments and houses that people and families can afford on worker's wages?  Or passing a law that would keep people who aren't old enough to drink or who have mental health issues from acquiring military-style assault weapons?  

Speaking of which:  A car, especially an SUV, is as deadly a weapon as an AR-15 when an unbalanced person is at the wheel.  If policy-makers actually want to encourage more people to pedal or walk to work or school, they could take measures to prevent and more severely punish violence committed against cyclists and pedestrians in which the motor vehicle is the weapon.  

But I digress.  MilNeil's article shows that while coverage in Boston's print media has been somewhat more balanced, the city's television and other electronic media are heavily skewed toward organizations like "Save Mass Ave" who argue that building bike lanes will destroy their businesses.  Too often, he points out, stories show only outraged owners of the businesses in question or give only a few seconds to a cycling or pedestrian advocate.

(For the record, the Cambridge City Council has consistently favored policies to build bike lanes and ban cars from parks and other public areas.)

Massachusetts Avenue in Cambridge.  Photo from Boston Streetsblog.

I suspect that some of that distortion is inevitable.  For one thing, I'd guess that most reporters and editors aren't cyclists and probably don't often walk to get to wherever they're going.  But there is a more important built-in bias, I think:  As we've seen all too clearly during since Trump launched his first Presidential campaign, loud, angry voices are better than calm voices relating facts at "bringing the eyeballs to the screens" or keeping earbuds in ears. 

Could it be that we need advocates who foam at the mouth the way some folks do when their right to have as many and whatever kind of guns--or parking spaces--as they want. Or to use them whenever, whenever they want. 

Who--Or What--Is To Blame?

Be forewarned:  Part of today's post will be a continuation of yesterday's rant, in which I lamented the terror and seeming inevitability of the mass shootings in a Texas school and Buffalo supermarket.

Perhaps I shouldn't be surprised that politicians and media pundits are blaming everything but guns.  I'm not talking about the "decay of moral values" or other talking points of the political and religious right.  Instead, I'm talking about flat-out lies spread by folks whose careers and reputations never could withstand the truth.

Paul Gosar, the Republican Congressional Representative from Arizona, is an example of who I mean. I must say, he has managed to concoct a non-reality not even the strongest drugs could induce and twist logic and reason in ways a pretzel-maker would envy.

To wit:  He tweeted that the shooter--18-year-old Salvador Ramos, born and raised in Texas--was a "transsexual leftist illegal alien."  Gosar's source for that bit of intelligence?  A social network called 4Chan, to which folks of his ilk are drawn like flies to, well, the stuff flies are drawn to.  That's bad enough, but I would really like to know where he got his thinking skills.  He followed up his out-and-out falsehood with this pearl of wisdom:  "Sandy Hook proved the need to enhance K-12 security."  OK. That's not too debatable. But then he made a leap into the (il)logical abyss:  "Congress armed Ukraine instead."

Now, as much as I sympathise with the people of Ukraine, I wonder about Congressional members' motives in voting to send even more weapons than President Biden demanded.  But talk about a false equivalency!  I mean, how can he link sending help to Ukraine with school safety, or a school shooting that happened nearly a decade ago?

Compounding the problem is that other voices in the media will amplify such nonsense--or other verbal bilge-- in the same way he was a loudspeaker for Trump's beloved "low-information voters."  Fox News, in following with a hallowed tradition, shifted the blame to parents.  

I have to hand it to the folks at Faux, I mean Fox:  They accomplished something I didn't think possible.  The excerable (even by their standards) Laura Ingraham interviewed someone even more vile than herself:  Andrew Pollack.  That I can unfavorably compare a man who lost his daughter in the Parkland shooting to a Fox host is really saying something. He, who has previously argued "guns didn't kill my daughter, Democratic principles did," in reference to the Texas shooting, declared, "It's the parents."

How he came to that conclusion took a turn of logic that rivals what brought Gosar to his blaming the shooting on helping Ukraine.  "It's your responsibility where you're sending your children to school," he explained.  "You need to check where your kids go to school."  He suggested that parents should take their kids "out of public school" and put them in "a private school, because a lot of these private schools, they take security way more serious."

Where to begin with that assessment?  Well, for one thing, private schools are not an option for most families. Most kids go to whatever public school is zoned for wherever they live and they (or, more precisely, their parents) have little or no choice in the matter.  Also, even if private school is an option, it might not meet some kids' needs.  And, finally, what does he mean by "security?"  Metal detectors?  Armed teachers?

Oh, and there are the usual diatribes about education and mental health treatment.  I would agree:  If someone were to ask me for an example of an oxymoron, I might say, "American mental health care system."  But that fixing that won't stop mass gun violence all by itself any more than better school security or any other action could.

Here's what I wonder: How the fuck did someone who couldn't even drink beer legally get his hands on a military-grade assault weapon?  Would Ingraham ask such a question?  Could--or would--Pollack or Gosar answer it?

So why am I taking up another post on a cycling blog with a discussion of a school shooting and its aftermath?  Well, what Gosar and his ilk do in these situation--blame everything but guns--reminds me of the ways law enforcement and some members of the public react, too often, when a driver maims or kills a cyclist.  Never mind that he or she was driving at double the speed limit, was distracted by a mobile device or impaired by drugs, alcohol or some other substance--or was simply driving agressively or carelessly.  The cyclist, especially if he or she is killed, is blamed.

 

Happy Ramadan, Passover, Good Friday—And Jackie Robinson Day

 Today I am invoking the Howard Cosell Rule. Today’s post, therefore, will not relate to my rides or bikes, and may not be connected to much else in the cycling world.  But what I’m about to mention is just too important to ignore. 

The athlete I’m about to mention has something in common with Simone Biles, Colin Kaepernick, Billie Jean King, Muhammad Ali and “Major Taylor.  Like them, he was a pioneer, not only in his sport, but in the struggle to be recognized and understood as full-fledged human beings.  In other words, they (have) had as much impact away from the field, court or track as they had on it.

On this date 75 years ago, a second baseman took his position at Brooklyn’s Ebbets Field.  At 28 years old, he was older than most rookies. But that wasn’t because he was a “late bloomer.” Rather, his debut in Major League Baseball was delayed by his World War II military service, where he experienced the very thing that kept him from playing for the Dodgers earlier than he did.

When he was drafted into the Army, he applied for Officers’ Candidate School, for which he was qualified.  His application was delayed for several months.  When he was finally accepted, he led soldiers who, like him, were racially segregated from other soldiers as they fought for the freedom of people in faraway countries.

What this man had in common with the other athletes I mentioned, with the exception of Billie Jean King, is that he was Black.  So, upon returning to the United States, he played a year for the Kansas City Monarchs of the Negro Leagues and another for the Montréal Royals, the Brooklyn Dodgers’ top minor-league team.

When Jackie Robinson took to the field for the Brooklyn Dodgers on 15 April 1947, he was the first known Black major-league player* since Moses Fleetwood Walker in 1884.  Robinson’s debut also came half a century after “Major” Taylor, the record-setting cyclist, became the first Black world champion in any sport. 

Consider this:  When Robinson played his first game as a Dodger, the United States armed forces had yet to integrate.  Yes, you read that right:  Black soldiers could still be sent to fight for freedoms they couldn’t enjoy themselves.  And, a year later, Strom Thurmond would run for President on a platform of “Segregation Forever!”

All right, this post does relate to cycling in at least one way:  In spite of his accomplishments on and off the field, Jackie Robinson, like Taylor before him, had to endure insults, indignities and even death threats. And, in a sort of parallel, Robinson had to go to other leagues, as Taylor had to go to other countries , for professional opportunities commensurate with their talents and work ethic.

So, if Jackie Robinson doesn’t deserve a mention on this or any other forum, I don’t know who does.

*—For all of the respect I have for Jackie Robinson, I am willing to entertain the notion that he wasn’t the first Black major league player since Walker.  It’s entirely possible that some Black player who “passed” as White—including, it’s been rumored, Babe Ruth—could have played in the major leagues.  

They're "Considering" Us

Exactly one month before I was born (OK, you can do the math!), Charles de Gaulle proclaimed, "Je vous ai compris!" to a crowd in Algiers.

What, exactly, he understood--or whom he was trying to reassure that he understood--is not clear.  Was he trying to reassure les pieds noirs--French colonials who lived (and some of whom were born) in Algeria that they could stay?  Was he telling military personnel--French? Algerian?  French Foreign Legion?--that he had their backs? Or was he guaranteeing  Algerians that their country would become independent (as it did four years later)?  

Some would say that he meant all, or none, of those things--that, perhaps, "je vous ai compris" was a "weasel" phrase.

If the latter is true, then the phrase could also be interpreted, if not translated, as "I have taken it under consideration" or "I have considered what you've said."

I have spent enough time around academic administrators to know that, for them and other bureaucrats, "consider" is too often a synonym for "ignore" or "pretend to hear." 

What brought those locutions to mind is the recent law requiring New York's Metropolitan Transportation Authority--which includes New York City's subway and bus systems, the region's commuter railroads and some of its bridges and tunnels--to "consider" bicycle and pedestrian access in its capital plans. Those plans would include not only new infrastructure, but also improvements to existing structures that currently lack such access.  

Call me cynical (Hey, I'm a New Yorker!), but I have to wonder just what "consider" means.  Or, for that matter, "access."  Some of the "access" I've seen to bridges is "access" in the same way that the stuff McDonald's and Burger King serve is "food."  

And, if the MTA actually does "consider" bike and pedestrian access, I have to wonder if it will be as poorly-conceived, -constructed and -maintained as most of the bike lanes I've seen in this city.

 

Imagine There's A White Bicycle

In a terrible irony, John Lennon was murdered the day after Pearl Harbor Day.

That was 41 years ago today.  I don't think it's hyperbolic to say that it shook some of us in the way that the "surprise" attack roused Americans and the world. 

In another terrible irony, the man responsible for "Imagine" and other songs calling for peace and unity was cut down by a lone gunman who claimed to be inspired by a fictional character who probably would have listened to Lennon's (and the Beatles') music and probably wouldn't have committed violence simply because he turned all of his anger inward.

(Of course, Lennon's murder points up to one of the ways in which the US gets things backwards.  In other countries, everyone has access to health care--which includes mental health services-- but very few people who aren't police officers or military personnel have access to firearms.)

Anyway, apart from his music and being married to the woman blamed for the breakup of the Beatles (I think she was a catalyst, not a cause), he and she were known for their "bed-ins" for peace.  At their second, in Amsterdam, they were given a white bike that was part of the Provo plan. 

 

Think of Provo as a kind of Dutch proto-Occupy Wall Street:  It began as a counter-culture movement during the mid-1960s.  It had a cultural wing,  which staged "happenings" and an activist wing that provoked (hence the name) the police through non-violent means. 

There was also a political faction that actually won a seat on Amsterdam's city council and had a number of goals to make their city and country more liveable and what we would now call "green." Those goals included the closing of central Amsterdam to motorized traffic.  That, of course, is probably Provo's most recognizable and lasting legacy:  One could say that the "White Bicycle" plan set the Dutch capital on its path to becoming the cycling haven it is today.

That, I believe, is something of which John Lennon would have approved.

A Signal--Of What?

 Friday afternoon, I pedaled along the North Shore--into the wind most of the way out, with it on the way back.

On my way back, I stopped in Fort Totten.  As its name implies, it was an active military base.  Now one section of it is used for Army Reserve training exercises; the New York Fire Department uses another.  The rest is a park with some great views of Long Island Sound and, on a clear day, the New York skyline.

When I stopped, I chanced upon this:

I got to thinking, ironically, about a long-ago conversation with an Italian olive grower.  The trees take 100 years to bear fruit, he told me.  So, he said, I am not planting a tree for me, for my children, or their grandchildren.  Rather, he is planting for their grandchildren.

A few weeks after that trip--during which I pedaled from Rome to Avignon and took the TGV (still pretty new then) to Paris--I went to  to see my brother in SoCal, with a stop in NoCal.  I took time from doing all of the things that could have gotten me into trouble (yes, even in San Francisco) to see the millenia-old trees on the other side of the bridge.  Later, I would try to write about how it felt to look at living things--olive, sequoia and other trees--that were older than any other living thing I'd seen, and any civilization or race I'd ever read about.  They were, it seemed, almost as old as the earth itself.

Here in NY, the trees aren't quite that old.  But at least a few have been around for a century or more and have weathered all manner of natural cataclysms and human-made traumas.  But this year proved to be too much for some that fell or broke, like the one in the photo.

Somehow it made the mostly-clear sky even more stark and a harbinger of winter.  Or, could it be a signal to some other direction we (or at least I) cannot yet discern?  Was it directing me to some place I haven't seen or imagined?

I'll spare you any comparisons to the green light in the Great Gatsby!

For Her Country, And Everyone’s

 Many cycling events, from local charity rides to races involving world-class riders, have been cancelled or postponed during the pandemic.  The cancelled rides were, mostly, annual events, and one assumes that they will resume once things return to “normal,” whatever that may mean.

On the other hand, Afghanistan’s female cyclists have no such hope.  Nobody really knows what could return that country to what it was three months ago, before the Taliban took power.  Women are losing the rights they regained during the past two decades—including, in effect, the right to ride a bicycle, an effect of the Taliban’s dress codes and prohibition against women venturing outside their homes without a male relative.

For some women, not being allowed to ride a bike means that they have no way to get to their jobs or schools—if indeed they are still allowed to work or study.  For some, though, it spells the end of their lives unless they can get out of the country and have a sponsor or other help waiting for them wherever they land.

Those women include Rukhsar Habibzi. Before she evacuated from Kabul Airport (just before it shut down) she was riding with the Afghan women’s national team and attending dental school.  Oh, and her activism got her a nomination for a Nobel Peace Prize—and threats of gender-based violence.

From Kabul, she was brought to Quatar, then to a US military base in Germany and an immigration center in New Jersey, where she waited for an emergency visa before settling in another state last week. 

She is slated to compete through 2023 for the Twenty24 development team.  Twenty24 owner Nicola Cranmer has set up a GoFundMe page to help Habibzai with rent, food, utilities, clothing, books and tuition. This fundraising effort “is not to fund a cycling team,” Cranmer stresses. Rather, she is trying to help a young woman become “the best athlete, student and leader she can be” after leaving her country “with just her purse.”  As an emergency visa holder, Habibzai gets very little assistance from the government.

She probably has dreams of winning races.  But Habibzai summed up her real goal in training and studying: “I want to showcase the physical and mental strength of an Afghan woman to Afghanistan and the whole world.” That, she believes, will show that “a woman is not weak” and that “success can be achieved by any gender.”

I’d be happy to have someone like her in my country!

The Next Tour?

 World War II suspended the Tour de France and most other cycling and athletic-related events.  For one thing, many riders were called to fight for their countries.For another, had the events been held, riders' safety could not be ensured.

So I was surprised to learn that a race transversing one of the world's most war-torn countries last week.  One thing that makes the race all the more interesting is that it is being promoted as a counterpart to the Tour de France.  Burkina Faso was a colony of that country, called Upper Volta, until 1984.

Eighty cyclists are riding the race, some of them Europeans.  (They say they're not worried about safety because "the military are everywhere.") Perhaps most prominent among them is Paul Daumont, who also competed in this year's Olympics in Tokyo.  The good news is that, at 22, he still has a lot of riding ahead of him.  

But he admits that it hasn't been easy for him, or other cyclists from his country.  The country's cycling federation gave him a bike when he showed potential but, he says, you need a really good bike which few of his compatriots can afford.  Also, I imagine that his team and others in Africa simply don't have the budgets or facilities of their European counterparts.  

Daumont has already raced, not only in Japan, but in other countries like Switzerland.  It's fair to wonder whether he and other talented cyclists will follow their counterparts in football (soccer) to careers in Europe, where teams from the English Premier League to Serie A feature star players from Africa and other parts of the world. The French national team won the World Cup in 1998 and 2018 largely thanks to the efforts of their African and Middle Eastern players.

Two things Daumont and other African cyclists share with their football-playing counterparts are ambition and a willingness to work very, very hard.  So, perhaps, we might see Africans win the Tour, Giro and Vuelta sooner rather than later.

  

Hey, Sammy. Where Are You Going With That Cash In Your Hand?

 Is he the Bernie Madoff of cycling?

Samuel J. Mancini is accused of bilking 40 investors out of 11 million dollars. While that’s “chump change “ compared to what Bernie defrauded from his clients, I’m sure Mancini’s victims are no less impacted—and feel no less betrayed.

He’d raised the money, he told his investors, for Outdoor Capital Partners (of which he was the managing director) to acquire bicycle-maker DeRosa, bicycle helmet-maker Limar and De Marching, known for bicycle clothing and accessories.  He would re-launch those brands, he told his customers, as part of a direct-to-consumer business that would be a direct competitor to Canyon, at least in the US.

The deal for De Marchi fell through.  So, he set his sights on Gruppo SRL, the parent company of Cinelli and Columbus.

At least, that’s what he told his investors.  In the meantime, according to a civil complaint filed with the US Securities and Exchange Commission and a criminal case in the US Attorney’s office for New Jersey, Mancini and OCP embezzled $400,000 of investors’ money and made $800,000 of “Ponzi-like” payments to investors.

As a result, Mancini’s and OCP’s accounts were frozen and Mancini was arrested.  He was released on bail and is awaiting trial.  The charges of securities fraud, money laundering and wire fraud could bar him being an officer of any public company or selling securities, require him to pay back funds with penalties and interest, and land him in prison for up to 30 years.

Perhaps one reason why investors trusted him was that he told them he was investing millions of his own dollars.  That turned out to be as false as his claim of being an alumnus of the United States Military Academy at West Point.  

This guy sounds like a real charmer.  I hear Bernie was one.

From Work To Pleasure On The Island

 On Tuesday, I rode to Connecticut.  Otherwise, it's been a week of local rides, mainly because I've tried to get home before early afternoon, when the heat and humidity is usually worst.

Yesterday fit that pattern.  It also fit another: I rode with a neighbor with whom I hadn't ridden before.  The difference between Kevin, with whom I rode yesterday and Lillian, whom I mentioned in an earlier post, is that she is re-discovering cycling after 40 or so year, whereas Kevin is a lifelong cyclist who raced.

I didn't get a photo of him, and I'll say more about him (and Lillian) in later posts.  I did, however, take some images of a ride that combined the old and the new for me.

The old:  We pedaled along the East River waterfronts of Queens and Brooklyn to the Williamsburg Bridge, which we crossed onto Manhattan.  We continued to the "bottom" of the island, where ferries dock.

 

We took one of the boats I'd never before ridden:  the one to Governors Island.  Being in a place where you're never more than a few hundred meters from the water is, of course, perfect on a hot day.  If and when I go back, I'll pack a picnic lunch and circle the island a couple of times, as Kevin and I did.

I enjoyed riding with him, but I had the same sense of irony, tinged with a bit of guilt, I feel when I ride along Red Hook, Bush Terminal or other parts of the Brooklyn waterfront.  Riding there is, of course, all about pleasure, and if I exert myself, it's an attempt to augment whatever training I might be doing.  During my childhood, and before, some relatives of mine and kids I grew up with worked that waterfront--long, hard hours, most likely without much thought for the beauty of the water or waterfront--or the Manhattan skyline, so close but in another world.

Well, I had the privilege of other folks on the ferry:  We were entering Governor's Island as civilians.    My father didn't have that privilege:  Whenever he went to the island, it was part of his duty as a Coast Guard reservist.  He didn't enjoy it, in part because he was going there to perform repetitive tasks. But, more than anything, it was an inconvenience:  When the island was a military installation, access was limited, as it is on other bases.  What that meant was that only a couple of boats made the trip to and from the island every day, and if you missed the last one, you were stuck.  On the other hand, today the boats make the crossing every 40 minutes starting at 10 am.  

To be fair, my father might've appreciated some landmarks like the Castle or the officers' houses for the history behind them.  But neither he nor anyone else went there to cycle, walk, picnic, camp or do anything for fun or recreation back in the day.

 

I plan to return, as I ride along the Brooklyn waterfront for fun. But the irony of my presence there, or on Governors Island, is not lost on me.

What If He’d Seen This?

 Yesterday morning, I pedaled along the North Shore.  On my way back, I stopped in Fort Totten.  Like many military bases-turned-recreational areas, it sits on some “mighty fine” real estate.  The site makes sense when you get a glimpse of the panoramic views:  Continental troops could have seen Royal Navy ships approaching from a good distance away.

Were they stationed there yesterday, they would have seen mist.  Would enemy warships have veiled themselves in it—and drawn closer than they might have otherwise?

Yesterday the mist portended something odious, if less sinister:  humid heat.  Very humid and hot, in fact—if less so than much of the West Coast last week.

Of course, being a writer and English teacher, I have to ask: What if Jay Gatsby had gazed across the cove and seen mist instead of a green light lover Daisy’s dock?

Now, I could get all pseudo-intellectual on you and blather about how hopers (Is that a word?) and dreamers, and the desperate, see that faint veridescence on the horizon and not the fog that shrouds it.  Too late! Oh well..

At least I had a nice ride—and picked up some fresh Greek yogurt from Kesso  on my way home.

What We Lost With Them

 It’s always tragic when someone loses his or her life in a cycling-related incident. Today I write, not to rant or assign blame.  Rather, I want to talk about a particular dimension of such losses.

Just as people ride bikes for a variety of reasons, cyclists come from nearly social and economic background. Some ride dilapidated machines rescued from dumpsters because they can’t afford to drive or even take mass transit; others pedal to well-paying jobs to stay fit or have some time to themselves, or simply because they enjoy it.  Still others ride just for fun, whatever that means to them.

And, just as some who ride out of necessity because they lack the education or skills (including, in some cases, language), I suspect that people with advanced educations may be more represented among cyclists than in the general population.

They included Allen Hunter II and Swati Tiyagi. Hunter was an Air Force Academy alumnus who earned a PhD in Physics.  After leaving the Air Force, he worked for Los Alamos National Laboratory and a tech company from which he retired. Tyagi, four decades younger than Hunter, was “one of the smartest postdocs I’ve ever had in my lab,” according to Martin Hetzer, Vice President and Chief Science Officer at the Salk Institute.

They were known in the San Diego area’s large scientific community.  And, unfortunately, both were cut down by drivers while cycling on San Diego County Roads.

While Hunter was retired, his contributions in laser development and other areas have proved valuable in and out of the military.  And Tyagi, who had just been promoted to a staff scientist position at Salk, was studying the human genome. “Her work is relevant for cancer, but also aging and neurogenetive diseases,” Hetzer said.

Tyagi and Hunter were both very smart, talented people. Moreover, Hunter’s children and grandchildren are mourning his loss. Likewise, Tyagi’s husband is grieving her—and is now the single father to their 11-month-old son.

A Journey In Memory

Here in the USA, it's Memorial Day.  The temperature hasn't exceeded 10C (50F) since Friday and rain has fallen nearly continuously--sometimes in torrents, other times in a drizzle.  The rain could stop and clouds could break by this afternoon, so some of the festivities associated with this holiday--nearly all of which were cancelled last year, when we were in the thick of the pandemic--might be staged.  So might the some of the barbeques and family gatherings postponed last year.

Photo by Rachel Smook.  From Massbike.

What I hope is that the people who weren't mourned, wheether they died in uniform or on a ventilator, will get the remembrances they deserve.  While this day is intended as a remembrance of those who died while serving in the military, I think it's fitting to recall those (including seven people I knew) who perished as a result of a pandemic that has killed more people in this country than all of the armed conflicts in which we've been involved since World War I.

The Tour of Somerville was one of many Memorial Day events cancelled last year.  This year, it's been moved to Labor Day (6 September).  I think the race organizers chose that date because here in the US, Labor Day is seen as the unofficial end of summer, just as Memorial Day is seen as its beginning.  The only other race cancellations came during World War II, which claimed the lives of its first two winners.

It just so happens that this Memorial Day is the 100th anniversary of the Tulsa Massacre, which I mentioned last week.  On 31 May 2021, white mobs descended on Greenwood, the Tulsa community dubbed "The Black Wall Street."  The city's police chief deputized hundreds of white citizens to join those mobs and commandeered gun shops to arm them.  The following day, the Greenwood district was wiped off the face of the earth.  It's estimated that 300 people died, but the true number may never be known.

However we choose to spend this day--I plan to take a bike ride later--it is intended as a memorial.   I try to remember that.

 

To Truly Honor Them

We call today Veterans' Day.  When I was growing up, many people still referred to it as Armistice Day.  In other countries, it's called Remembrance Day.  

That last name would be attached to this day if I were President.  Too often, at least here in the US, anything associated with veterans is, too often, used to glorify war and military power rather than to honor the sacrifices of those who served.  

As Danny Sjursen has written, "The best way America can honor its veterans and fallen soldiers is to create fewer of them."  He would know:  Tours of duty in Iraq and Afghanistan left the West Point alumnus with PTSD severe enough that the Army retired him early, with the rank of Major.

I mention that because I reckon that PTSD is even more common among veterans than any of us realize. While nobody knows how to "cure" it, there are ways to cope.  One of them is, of course, bicycling.  A number of organizations offer free bikes, whether of the conventional types or modified machines, to veterans. They also sponsor rides and other cycling-related events as part of their recreational and therapeutic programs for veterans.

There is, however, an organization in Chamblee, Georgia, devoted exclusively to mountain biking for veterans.  Appropriately enough, it's called MTB Vets.

 

Vets need more such organizations and programs and, to paraphrase Major Sjursen, less platitudinous praise or trite thanks.      

They're Not Free To Celebrate Their Freedom

Seventy-five years ago today, the United States and its European allies accepted Nazi Germany's unconditional surrender of its armed forces.  

Citizens in countries such as France, Belgium, and the Netherlands could, for the first time in years, consider themselves free of a brutal occupation in which many of their friends, neighbors, colleagues--and, in many cases, relatives--were murdered or disappeared.  

As this is the 75th anniversary, few people who participated in combat, or who supported those, in or out of uniform, who participated in supporting the soldiers, sailors and airmen, or in other forms of resistance.  Even those who were young children during that time and remember various privations are not young.  So, this probably would have been the last time significant numbers of people who experienced the occupations in any way, as foes or allies, could or would celebrate in a major way.  

Notice that I used conditional tenses in my previous sentence.  Under other circumstances, thousands of people surely would have participated in ceremonies and other commemorations. Today, however, much of Europe remains under COVID-19 induced lockdowns.  In some countries, people can't even go for a bike ride or a walk and must show an official document granting them permission to go to grocery stores, pharmacies and other enterprises deemed as essential.

So, here is one of many sad ironies of the situation:  On a day when people would have been celebrating their liberation from one kind or tyranny, they are now living under another.  

And, the enforced curfews and other restrictions of Nazi invasions and occupations changed life in ways that still affect people today.  For example, the Paris Metro closes from 1 am to 5 am every day.  That schedule was imposed on the city during its occupation.  So it remains today.  In an odd parallel, for the first time in its history, the New York City subway system is  not operating 24/7.  It is now closed every day from 1 to 5 am--as a result of what has been called our "invisible invader."

Another parallel between the Nazi occupations and the COVID-19 pandemic is that thinking "out of the box" with the available facts is needed to beat back the terror.  The Nazis introduced the Blitzkreig, but French and other military strategists continued to strategize in the ways they'd done, or learned, before.  Once they and their allies understood that the Nazis were sending "lightning strikes" rather than masses of soldiers, they started to win battles.  Likewise, health care professionals, scientists and policy makers--at least the ones who don't placate political patrons--know that while their knowledge and data will inform their decisions, those decisions cannot always be made in the same ways because COVID-19 is not behaving in the same ways as earlier afflicitons.

I just hope that my friends in France and the wonderful people I met in other countries will soon be able to celebrate in the way they deserve (Xoom just doesn't cut it!)--perhaps with a bike ride.

Bike Thieves Meet The Id

Alert:  I will talk politics and religion in this post.

Donald Trump may well be the first American president to rule entirely by his id.  

That's the part of our psyche that reacts to immediate needs and impulses.  Much of our education and acculturation is, essentially, training in not living by our ids.  Of course, your teachers, parents and other authority figures don't tell you that (unless, perhaps, they're psychologists or psychiatirists).  In my milieu, I don't think anyone had even heard of that two-letter term, just as they never used words like milieu.  I didn't hear such words until I went to college.

Because of such training, most of us will only go so far in response to being wronged.  I don't think any previous president would have assassinated the military leader of another country because, well, the leaders of their country did things we didn't like.  (And he said he was doing it to prevent a war:  Even Rudy Giuliani would have a hard time being more Orwellian!)  Likewise, most sexual abuse victims won't do what a 19-year-old in France did to the priest who sexually abused him and his father:  He rammed a crucifix down the prelate's throat.

I have retaliated with physical violence once in my life, when someone tried to sexually assault me.  I'll admit I've thought about reacting with force, but didn't, on more than a few occasions.  And I have made threatening gestures against potential aggressors--including a would-be bike thief I scared away.

I'll admit that at the moment I confronted the perp, I thought about doing what a couple in Visalia, California did. Corey Curnutt and Savannah Grillot baited would-be bike thieves with a bike planted in their front yard.  When someone tried to steal it, they rushed out and beat, with baseball bats, the person who tried to take it.

According to police, they did this four times between July and November of the past year.  I'm guessing that the vigilante couple would have been caught eventually, but they probably hastened their arrests by posting videos of their deeds on YouTube.

Now I'll confess that if I were on a jury, I really wouldn't want to vote to convict Curnutt or Grillot--or the young man in France.  But one reason why we're taught not to live by our ids is that part of our psyche is incapable of restraint.  Plus, almost every ethical and moral system of which I'm aware condemns retaliatory violence.  

All right, I'll end with one more confession:  I cheered when Thelma shot Harlan.  Then I felt ashamed of myself--just a little.  At least I knew "Don't try this at home."  

Yes, This Is A Love Letter To Greece!

A week after my Greek adventure, I am still reflecting on it.  And my toe is still healing.

Despite that mishap, my Hellenic holiday is one of the best I've ever spent.  I know I will always return to France because it's become a part of me, but, of all of the countries I've seen, Greece is the one to which I most passionately hope to return. I didn't do as much cycling as I'd hoped, in part because of the injury.  One day, though, I hope to return and do some more cycling--and, of course, to experience more of what the country and its people have to offer.

First, let me say something about the people.  If any of you are Greek, I hope you won't take offense to this:  In all of my travels, I've been to only one other country where the people were as effusively yet genuinely friendly as the Greeks:  Turkey.  A friend of mine once described me as an "extroverted introvert."  Yet I did not find the Greeks, as outgoing as they are, intrusive.  Perhaps it has something to do with being in a country that produced philosophers who wrote about balance and harmony:  Who better to understand the introspective soul within the effervescent, demonstrative personality?

If this view isn't worth pedaling up a road with five hairpin turns, what is?

Then, of course, there is the sheer physical beauty you encounter throughout the country, whether on the islands, or in the interior or Athens.  The Aegean Sea really is as blue, and its beach waters as clear, as what you see in photos all over the Web--and in postcards!  Seeing the temple to Zeus and the sanctuary of Athena in Delphi is even more awe-inspiring than I ever expected.  And, finally, even in its grittiest alleyways, Athens has a beauty very different from any other city I've seen--in part because you're never more than a few steps from a view of the Pantheon, and a subway ride can take you through an archaeological site.

That combination of classical balance and harmony with the large, wild bursts of line and color in the graffiti that adorned abandoned villas (and, in a few cases, defaced others) paint a portrait of a people and culture who have endured difficulty--whether from the economic crisis of 2009, the military dictatorship of the '70's or the Nazi occupation--but have not been broken.  Although I still love New York, so much of what I first loved about it has been co-opted or even destroyed by the pursuit of profit, always by those who already have much.  I don't know what the future holds for Athens, or for Greece, but I sense that Greeks young and old, contrary to what you may have heard, work hard but are still working to live, not living to (or for) work.

Finally--since this a blog about cycling, after all--I will say something about cycling.  I greatly enjoyed the cycling I did, although (or perhaps because) cycling in Greece was a very different experience.  Riding in Athens is different from riding in New York because the streets are narrower and there are almost no bike lanes.  (In fact, the only lane I encountered was the one I rode to the marina.)  Also, motorists are different:  A cyclist needs to be careful because most Athenian motorists aren't accustomed to seeing us.  This is in contrast with the open hostility one too often encounters from drivers in New York and other American cities, and is an even starker contrast to the relative bicycle-friendliness of, say, Paris or Montreal, let alone Amsterdam.

There is, as Manos at Athens by Bike told me, "no bike culture in this city, at least not yet."  Along the route to the marina--which parallels the #1 (green) Metro line, I did notice a shop in the process of opening, and there were a couple of stalls in the Flea Market that were as well-stocked (albeit with local brands) as shops I've seen elsewhere.  But in the city, or on the islands, you're not going to find the lycra-clad cyclists on carbon-fiber bikes.  They may show up one day, but I didn't see them on this trip.  On the other hand, in the countryside between Athens and Delphi, I did see a few cyclists who looked like they were doing some serious training on late-model, high-quality road and mountain bikes.

But as much as I like bike "culture," cycling is all about riding.  And people.  And places.  And history and culture.  Oh, and food.  Greece has all of that, which is why I want to return.  Maybe, by then, there will be more "cycling culture"--or I will help to create it!