ALDRIN

I was returning to Honolulu from Sacramento on the 9:40 morning flight on American. The airport was teeming with spooling currents of people pushed by an understated urgency. The dull ache in my head intensified as I sat next to a large woman who was vigorously cracking peanuts. For a whole minute I thought about moving.

“We are boarding rows 21 and lower,” the public address announced. I was on my feet instantly, unaware that another man had noticed my response.

“No need to hurry, we’ll all arrive at the same time. You can go ahead of me–its okay,” he said.  I smiled and nodded, “No after you sir,” I insisted, my headache vanished.

In the process of boarding I forgot about the man, so I was a little surprised to discover that we were seated in the same row with a vacant seat between us on an otherwise full flight!

“My name is Aldrin,” he said.  “You know like Buzz Aldrin, the lunar module pilot on Apollo 11. He would have been the first man to set foot on the moon, but Neil Armstrong pushed him out of the way.”   He smiled. I then realized he was joking. “Where are you from,” he asked?  I looked closely at his face before answering.  A halo of self-assurance framed it, along with a well trimmed mustache and clean cut glasses …

”I’m from Hawaii”, I said.

“And I’m from Trinidad-Tobago. I am of Portuguese and African descent.  Most people can’t tell where I’m from until I speak,” he said smiling. “I’ve been invited to Hawaii as a speaker for the first annual world congress on understanding the molecular basis of heart disease and cancer.”

“You must have a head on your shoulders?” 

“Yes, it is on my shoulders, and thank you,” the young PHD said. “I teach at UC Davis.”  

“Is this your first visit to Hawaii,” I asked?

“No…This is my second visit,” he said.

 “And were you impressed with the tropical beauty of Hawaii?”

”Not really because my country is equally beautiful, and it is the richest country in the Caribbean.”

I could see I was speaking to a man who was intellectually gifted and not an empty seat. He had immediately sparked my interest. “How and why is Trinidad-Tobago the richest country in the Caribbean,” I asked?”

“We share the same oil basin that Venezuela does. There are many smart people in Trinidad, and nearly 40% of them are from India.  My wife is Indian.”

“Well sir, how did you get so-o smart?”

“I am not particularly smart. You see anyone of average intelligence is capable of flying this airplane. Intelligence is primarily a matter of focus, patience and preparation…for the lack of a better word–discipline.”

What I hated most about flying really didn’t matter now. I was intrigued.  “Tell me more about being smart,” I demanded.  I explained that I had been a martial artist and understood conditioning the body in order to make it stronger and more flexible, and the necessity in feeding one’s spirit to make life less stressful and more enjoyable, but how does one increase brain-power?

Aldrin was on his feet almost instantly, and retrieved his laptop from the overhead compartment. In a matter of seconds the screen displayed a network of brightly colored balls randomly placed on a grid.   Aldrin had the hands of a piano player or perhaps a surgeon I thought as he nimbly stroked the keys. “This is a game that rewards focus, patience and judgment, which are components of intellect. It is a brain exercise. For example: a bit of critical thinking can resolve a lot of issues. The object of this exercise is to align all six balls of the same color in a diagonal line,or in a straight line, and in the quickest possible way. It is not easy because simple mistakes are made unless you focus on the task at hand, prepare before making each move, are patient, and disciplined, which is one way to test the hypotheses of learning how to exercise the brain.”

Seemingly at light speed he arranged the eleven or twelve different colored balls into homogenous runs of color. He looked up just long enough to see if I was paying attention, and then completed the task and turned the machine off. I was impressed.

“Did you know that it has been proven that cancer is produced in laboratory animals fed milk and dairy products?  And it has also been proven that the artificial colorings utilized in our foods likewise produce cancer in laboratory animals. It is really important that consumers read the labels of sport drinks in particular, because they often use artificial coloring.  A good alternative is beet juice for instance, which is a much better and healthy substitute. Oh…and only eat apples organically grown—because they also produce cancer, and are more susceptible in the retention of toxins, herbicides, insecticides, and pesticides, which cause cancers. If the bugs won’t eat it we shouldn’t eat it. To another point: Did you know that every time you fly it takes approximately two-days off your life? This is because of the cabin pressurization. He then showed me the coned-shaped ear plugs he was wearing which neutralized the effects of airplane pressurization.

Then I asked somewhat competitively, “We are an overworked, overstressed, over drugged, over-caffeinated, money-chasing, self-absorbed culture looking for answers by watching excessive amounts of television, while lying in the warm shade of summer and the safety of denial—what is that doing to our minds and bodies?” Aldrin seemed to fish for the reason why I’d asked that question. I raised my eyes and waited for his answer when a breeze 30,000 feet high closed the door.

After all he was scheduled to speak on using cardio proteomics to advance the discovery of signaling mechanisms involved in cardiovascular diseases.

 

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Movie Review: Red Tails

Release Date: 1/20/2012
Rate: R
Genres: Action/Drama
Cast: Cuba Gooding Jr., Terrence Howard
Director: Anthony Hemingway

Today, the door is cracked. Yesterday, it was slammed shut. It was a time defined by the limits of racial segregation. It was the era of Jim Crow. In 1940, too many influential white Americans chose to believe that Negroes lacked the character, brain-power and discipline needed to fly airplanes (among other things). Consequently, African Americans were denied access, leadership, skilled training and were barred from flying.

The Tuskegee Program was officially started in 1941, at Tuskegee Institute with the 99th Pursuit Squadron. The Army Air Corp was once all white, proving that nothing is impossible. If there is one truth that keeps raising its hard head it is this: What one man can do another man can do.

When I sat down to watch “Red Tails” I didn’t know what to expect. Initially I didn’t feel emotionally connected to the story being told. The tumultuous vulnerabilities of war, and the desperation and poverty in which it was staged were grossly understated. The film failed to show all the obstacles black pilots faced, and pointed to their experiences without the emotional or intellectual depth each deserved, as if to say: This is the hand you were dealt—deal with it. The movie made little to no attempt to flesh out the characters or explain the realities surrounding this remarkable story. In a nutshell it lacked the realism of racism and the terror in war. It did not show the support they received, which included the help of First Lady, Eleanor Roosevelt. It was her flight with civilian and chief instructor-pilot, Andrew Anderson, an African American, that was the game changer. Mr. Anderson killed two birds with one stone in demonstrating his remarkable flying acumen, and in so doing earned the First Lady’s respect. This went the distance with President Roosevelt.

The movie was pieced together by most viewers out of a sense of assumption, ignorance and hearsay. But the 1940-41 truth was that civil rights groups and the black press brought tremendous pressure on our government, which ultimately led to the formation of this elite group of African American flyers, most of whom were college graduates.

The true story of Red Tails is a much more dramatic slice of the world’s history carved out of the greatest conflict in recorded time. It was probably the most intense journey the Tuskegee Airman would experience in their lifetime. It is difficult to imagine highs and lows quite like those given the global context and the unforgiving twin powers of bigotry and war, juxtaposed with the remarkable accomplishments and heroism demonstrated by the Tuskegee Airmen. It is an absolutely fascinating story too-long hidden by yesterday’s racism, but revealed today with a sort of historical hypocrisy.

The way “Red Tails” was presented made be draw back a little. It was a soft soap, an over simplification of this bacteria called racism. It was so understated, so carefully crafted and orchestrated, so as to attract (I believe) a larger audience and ultimately achieve greater revenues. Is this not a primary mandate for movie making? The saving grace of the movie is the fact that it was made, and distributed nationally. Perhaps someday African Americans will have the fearless freedom and epic vision to tell their stories in their own way.

Would I recommend this motion picture? Yes…It is a teaching opportunity and it is entertaining without having to explain its relevance in today’s world. The necessity for role models was demonstrated expertly by Terence Howard, the handsome, self-assured, lead-by-example commanding officer, to the steady-as-she-goes, pipe-smoking, Cuba Gooding, Jr.’s executive officer’s role, right down to “Easy” the afflicted, Squad Leader, and of course Lightening, his Ramboesque, smiling, fearless, rebellious wingman.

To his credit, George Lucas, put some very capable black actors to work. And he didn’t cheat anyone with his blend of technology and cinematography. He brought into America’s collective consciousness this important story of how Black men and White forged a bond and supported each other in a war against a common enemy.

On the other hand, perhaps telling the story realistically is too easy. If you showed how it was—the affects may have the opposite effect—undermining the end goal, which is what America is still trying to achieve, i.e. with liberty and justice for all. After all racism as an institution is dead in America—isn’t it?

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NEW DEAL

“Eastern Paradise” serves the best fried rice in the city an authentic Chinese menu

It is raining. The streets are shiny black. The reflections move upon the asphalt surface

like ghosts. We are sitting in the corner booth in a small restaurant along King Street in Metro Honolulu. All eyes are upon us. There is something elevating about being in the company of a beautiful woman. Even other women take notice. The mere fact that beauty is paying attention to me is empowering. There is no music—just the pleasant aroma of food being prepared. I peer out the window. Actually it is the uncovered portion above the white lace curtain, which is drenched in pouring rain. A flock of colorful birds fill this space in a flying art form. The food is brought to our table in small bowls, atop larger, oval-shaped plates accompanied by chop sticks and silence. English is seldom spoken here.  Now I hear the music. The pretty woman speaks: The greed in man is great—even his thoughts and desires are consumed with power and pride, and he is always demanding more, while being pursued by un-resting death—is that a complete sentence? The pretty woman asked.

I look into her face. It is a face stark with beauty, with bright brown eyes, and sparkling white teeth, but at the corner of her mouth a small bit of sadness lingers. I smile. Speak on, I demand: It’s a new deal. The fix is everywhere and within everything. I now believe like a homeless person, a financial crippled, or a servant who is not allowed to speak; while the rich get richer and the poor and the poorer get the picture.  Those of us in the middle are at risk of being disenfranchised—finally the center understands the new deal, and that our government is a set up, Wall Street is a metonym and Madison Avenue is a marketing concept that no rational middle minded, self educated, moral being can explain. I know now that being afraid is a commitment to cowardice. But how can I stand upon ideas when negative forces travel ten times faster than positive force.

 I reach across the table and take her hand into mine and say that everybody needs somebody to love and to believe in them—speak on: Is life deceiving us, or teaching us? Or will I pass this way not knowing if life was a succession of little things or bigger schemes, or was it just another dream?

 

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