Random, and Not So Random, Acts of Kindness

They are beautiful, heartwarming gestures I do not mean to belittle. But the anonymous charity of Secret Santas randomly giving out $100 bills to those they think are in need, or paying off a stranger’s layaway charges at Kmart, is not the answer to the paralyzing and pervasive poverty enveloping our nation. They are not the solution to a capitalist system that has divided our country, indeed, large parts of the rest of the world as well, into spheres of plenty and spheres of void.

However generous they are, random acts of kindness should not lull us into believing they can relieve our fellow citizens of the trauma of unemployment, of the despair of having a loved one in need of medical care without adequate health insurance, of squelching the pangs of hunger that ache each night in the bellies of too many of our young.

My conservative friends and relatives tell me government is not the answer. They would have the hungry and the needy rely on the generosity of their fellow human to ease their pain and tribulations, all the while exhorting them to bootstrap themselves into success. Newt Gingrich would dismiss child labor laws and have children of poverty clean schools so they can learn a work ethic, as if taking away the functions of school janitors is any way to reduce unemployment or increase the take-home pay of the working class.

I seem to recall George H.W. Bush more than 20 years ago waxing euphoric over a “thousand points of light” to help transform the country. Perhaps people are more charitable these days. But the number of families living at or below the poverty level keeps growing. The gap in income between the average worker and the average chief executive keeps growing. “Shared sacrifice” is a phrase that needs to be parsed in a new way—corporate executives get more shares, while the rest sacrifice.

Temporary generosity has but a temporary impact. Even if all of those who can afford it tithed, we would still require government intervention to bolster the economy and provide a safety net. How else to explain corporate America’s reluctance to invest in the United States, to hire more workers, even as companies sit on a treasure trove of cash. Neither government regulation nor a high tax rate is strangling our economy. Rather, it is the way we compensate our executives. They manage for short term gain, their bonuses tied to an annual bottom line. Say what you will about Amazon.com’s products and services, you can’t deny founder/CEO Jeff Bezos has stuck to his guns in defending a long-term strategy that has bedeviled Wall Streeters seeking more immediate returns.

Mitt Romney wants everyone to know not all businesses succeed, so don’t blame him if some of the companies his Bain Capital acquired filed for bankruptcy or had to lay off workers. Fair enough. So then let’s not allow him to scald President Obama for investing U.S. funds in Solyndra, a solar energy company that went belly up. New technologies need government assistance, sometimes direct, sometimes indirect. An example of the latter is the sales tax exemption many online retailers have enjoyed versus brick and mortar stores.

Compassionate conservatism is another hollow term. Even when conservative dogma is based on religious belief, as with the Right to Life movement, compassion for the unborn is not extended to the newborn. Conservatives want cuts in aid to dependent children, in early education programs, in school lunch programs.

Let’s not abandon the less fortunate. Let’s continue to donate food, clothing, dollars to worthy charities and individuals. But let’s not forget that without government assistance far too many of the citizens of the richest country on earth would not have a roof over their heads, meals to be eaten, schools to attend, pre- and post-school programs to enrich their growth years, doctors to visit, jobs to go to each day. These are not random acts of kindness. They’re the very foundation of what a government is supposed to do—protect and care for its citizens.

Handwriting on the Wall

I’ve got a handwriting problem. I can’t always read notes I’ve written down for blog entries.

I walk around with a pad and pen in my back pocket to jot down notes, even to longhand full stories, whenever the muse hits me. Trouble is, my scribble is so hasty that unless I sit down to transcribe it right away I often have a hard time discerning what I wrote.

It was always this way. My illegible handwriting drove my parents crazy, so much so that when I received an “A” in penmanship in fourth grade my father made my mother go up to the teacher to complain her standards were too low. She explained she based the grade on the penmanship of homework reports she assigned. Knowing that, I painstakingly toiled to make these reports works of cursive art. Even at the tender age of eight I knew how to game the system.


I think I might qualify to be a banking executive. Today’s New York Times showcased troubles with the mortgage foreclosure process. One problem involved the signature of an assistant vice president of American Home Mortgage Servicing assigning a mortgage to another bank. As shown in a photo of three documents, the AVP’s signature differs widely in each instance. The clear inference is that three different people signed the paperwork, meaning at least two were forgeries.

That’s the logical conclusion, but if American Home Mortgage Servicing needs an expert witness on its behalf, I’m available. You see, I, too, have multiple signatures, and I’ll be darned if I can remember which one I’ve used for, say, the safety deposit box form, my regular checking account or any other official paper that requires a John Hancock.

It’s always a crap shoot wondering which way to sign and if the people scrutinizing my chicken scratchings will ask for further proof of who I am. When they don’t I silently say, “Fooled them again,” but then I begin to wonder how safe my money and identity are if I am not questioned when my signature clearly does not match the official record.


Does God need a better GPS? It might appear so after last Friday’s weather.

On Thursday, Jews all over the world prayed for rain, part of the annual fall holiday of Shemini Azeret. They were praying for rain in Israel, which, by the way, is enduring a years long drought. Instead, God sent torrential rain up and down the East Coast, with more rain expected this week. In Jerusalem and Tel Aviv, meanwhile, it’s been nice and sunny.

Perhaps God was confused because there might be as many Jews living on the East Coast as there are in Israel, especially when you consider the number of Israelis who have moved here.


Driving home from Queens the other day, two things occurred to me. First, too often there’s no music I like playing on any of my 12 preset FM radio stations. I don’t do enough driving to invest in satellite radio so I’m stuck with FM fare. Oh well...

Second, why is it during a traffic jam whenever I switch lanes my new lane almost always comes to a standstill and my old lane starts moving faster?


At his town hall meeting at Washington, D.C.’s, Newseum two weeks ago President Obama got an earful about the stalled economy and shattered dreams. One poignant moment came when a woman, a supporter of his, asked, "My husband and I thought we were beyond the hot dog and beans (stage) of our lives. ... Is this my new reality?"

Funny thing, Gilda and I like the occasional franks and beans dinner. But it’s easy to understand why a constant diet of franks and beans would be disheartening. If Obama and the Democrats hope to keep their majority influence in Washington they have just four weeks to convince voters that a Republican/Tea Party victory would guarantee many more franks and beans meals.

Compassionate Conservative is never mentioned these days. Instead, the candidates on the right hammer home a message of lower government spending which can only mean less assistance for the needy. And more tax breaks for the wealthy.

Incidentally, on your next visit to Washington, take time to visit the Newseum. Set aside several hours. There’s lots to see and absorb there.


The regular baseball season ended with Boston denied a post-season slot but gaining some measure of satisfaction by denying the Yankees a first-place finish in their division, though the New Yorkers still qualified for the playoffs as a wild-card entry. It's too early to say if the Red Sox did the Yanks a favor by making them play the Minnesota Twins, and not the Texas Rangers, in the first round.

Over the weekend the Yankee announcers were reminiscing about the 1978 playoff game between Boston and New York, won by Bucky Dent's dramatic three-run home run off Boston's Mike Torrez. They wondered why they had been home to watch the one-game playoff to determine the winner of the American League East crown (this was before the wild card option). They speculated they played hookey from school that Monday, Oct. 2, 1978.

I, on the other hand, easily remember why I wasn't at work. It was the first day of Rosh Hashanah. After we returned from my parents' synagogue and ate lunch, we retired to the TV room to watch the Yankees begin a wonderful year for our extended family, capped by the birth of my son Dan, my sister's son Ari and my brother's daughter Karen. And, oh yes, the Yanks won the World Series that year.