What Would Jimmy Do?

If you’ve been following this blog, you know that I’ve been cleaning out our collection of books. The other day I ran across one that was given to me a few years ago because “it should be right down my alley.” I’m not sure about that, but I did find the book very interesting and I recommend it. The book is The Catcher was a Spy by Nicholas Dawidoff. It’s a biography of Moe Berg — a baseball player and a WWII spy.
The back cover of the book says Moe Berg was one of the most confounding men that ever donned a glove in Major League Baseball. I’d say that’s probably true….

Morris “Moe” Berg was born in New York City in 1902. He was the son of Russian immigrants and graduated from high school with honors and was accepted to Princeton University. His father wanted him to be a lawyer, so he eventually got a law degree. 

Moe studied languages at Princeton, including ancient Indian Sanskrit and Egyptian hieroglyphics, along with other “ordinary” ones. While at Princeton, Berg played shortstop for the Princeton baseball team. It immediately became obvious that he was a different kind of ballplayer — instead of the usual hand signals, he communicated with his second baseman in Latin. 

After he graduated in 1923 — to his father’s horror — Moe joined the Brooklyn Robins (the team that later became the Brooklyn Dodgers) as a backup catcher. The salary he made playing baseball paid for linguistics study at the Sorbonne in Paris and put him through the law program at Columbia University.

Moe Berg played for five different major league teams during his 16-year baseball career. When he played for the Washington Senators, he broke an American League record in the 1932-33 season by playing 117 consecutive full games without an error. But his lifetime batting average was .243 — so bad that it inspired the line: “Moe Berg can speak 12 languages, and he can’t hit in any of them.”

In 1934, an American League all-star team was put together for a tour of Japan. There were some pretty impressive players picked for the team — including Babe Ruth and Lou Gehrig. The team also included Moe Berg. Some say that Berg was put on the team because he spoke Japanese, and he also understood Japan’s culture better than the average American did. That made him very popular with the Japanese. 

Moe used some of his time in Japan to take movies of Tokyo from the rooftops of buildings — including the harbor and shipyards, industrial sites, and military installations. In later years, some sources claimed that Berg was working for U.S. intelligence, but others say he did the filming on his own. His home movies, even to this day, generate disagreements. According to a popular story, they were used in 1942 to help plan General Jimmy Doolittle’s bombing raids on Japan. Other historians don’t believe the pictures would have been of much use. 

But no matter — making those movies steered Berg toward a new career. The Office of Strategic Services (OSS) was the forerunner of the CIA and was run by William J. “Wild Bill” Donovan, and he thought Moe Berg would make a good spy. Berg spoke a number of languages, was exceptionally intelligent, and he had a knack for getting people to talk to him — all good spy qualities. 

When Moe’s baseball career was over in 1939, the OSS offered him a job. He didn’t get off to a particularly good start — he couldn’t even figure out where to carry his gun. He apparently tried to tuck it into his jacket, his belt, and his sock — but it kept falling out. According to the book, one time he just had a friend hold it for him. He traveled the world — to Casablanca, Rome Algiers, Yugoslavia, and Norway. And he always wore that traditional spy-wear — the trench coat.

In 1944, the Manhattan Project (the effort to build an atomic bomb before the Germans) was underway. Berg was sent to Zurich, Switzerland, to attend a conference of scientists. His job was to find out how far along the Germans were in building their bomb. His instructions were if he determined the Germans were close, to kill Werner Heisenberg, Germany’s leading atomic physicist, right then and there. Moe, posing as a Swiss physics student and caring his trusty gun (that he had finally learned how to carry) and a suicide pill (just in case) listened as Heisenberg gave a lecture on basic physics — a ho-hum kind of talk. Berg would have to do more digging. After the lecture the opportunity presented itself. At a dinner party later that night, Moe had a chance to chat with Heisenberg. The physicist spilled the beans — he complained that the German project was lagging behind the Allies. He supposedly told Berg, “It’s a shame, Germany has already lost the war.”

So Moe didn’t have to use his gun or his suicide pill. He sent a message with the good news to the OSS in Washington, who passed it on to President Roosevelt. The President responded with “My regards to the catcher.”
Obviously Moe Berg did other work for the OSS but a lot of it isn’t detailed in the book. He was awarded the Medal of Freedom, but he refused it. He said he respected “the spirit in which it was offered.”

After the war, Moe apparently became something of a vagabond. But he still went to baseball games as often as he could and he was an entertaining storyteller who sometimes expanded on the facts. 
Because of that, it made it hard for historians to sort out the actual events of his life. He died in 1972 and left no estate — only his legend — and a few mysteries……
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My neighbor came over yesterday and as he often does, asked if I was having a good day. I told him it was an ok day (my usual response lately) but I hadn’t really accomplished much. Well, that got me to thinking about accomplishments. I’ve always kind of measured my days by whether or not I felt like I had accomplished something. But I’m beginning to realize that those things that I thought I needed to accomplish were physical things, or kind of “external” things to my life. 

So — at this point, maybe those types of accomplishments shouldn’t be my goal. Maybe my goal now should be trying to find happiness and maybe some inner peace. If my goal now is not so much to “get things done,” maybe I should redefine my “accomplishments” as those that support and measure my progress in returning to “normal.”

It might be a good idea for all of us to try putting more emphasis on what’s really important rather than  concentrating on those “external” accomplishments and should redefine what it means to achieve a meaningful accomplishment….
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There’s  lots of things I don’t understand. One thing I’ve never understood was why some people find it difficult, or refuse, to say “hi.” I grew up in Maysville, Oklahoma — a small town where everyone knew each other and everyone spoke to each other. As soon as I moved away from Maysville, I noticed that very often people would just stare at me when I greeted them — or — just ignore me completely. I didn’t get it then, and I don’t get it now. Seems to me that’s just common courtesy. 

And I never thought about it until more recently, but we really don’t have much eye contact with strangers — or some people that aren’t even strangers. 
How come? Are they afraid of us, or are we afraid of them? Why would you not look at someone and exchange greetings?

Obviously, I don’t know the answer to those questions. I used to go to work in the morning, get in the elevator, and if there was someone already in the elevator, I’d say, “good morning,” or “how ya doing” or something like that. A very high percentage of the time, they’d grumble, or say nothing and would invariably look at the floor or turn away from me. 

I will readily admit I have my own set of problems right now and probably shouldn’t be analyzing other people, but I’d be willing to bet that people’s attitude toward strangers is somehow related to their overall level of happiness. I can’t believe that someone that keeps their head down, frowns, or looks away from people would fall into the “joyful person” category. 

Again, I don’t want to sound like I’m giving advice, but whether someone is an introvert or extrovert, it doesn’t take much energy to look at someone and even say hello. That’s just being kind and respectful to others. I realize everyone has troubles, concerns, likes, dislikes, fears, etc. but making eye contact and speaking takes so little effort — and I’d bet that one little act would make most people feel better. 
Someone once said (or at least should have) that eye contact is the best way of communication. Who knows — it might even be the best way to happiness…..
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A lot of cultures have folklore, or stories passed down through time that have a moral. When we were in the Philippines, there was an old guy that worked for me — keeping track of items in one of our warehouses. His name was Gus. Gus was full of stories and he was fascinating to listen to — the only problem was that Gus couldn’t tell stories and work at the same time…. so finding a balance was sometimes difficult. 
Anyhow, I’m not sure why, but I recently remembered a story that he told me one day that I’ve always liked…I hope I remember enough of it to do it justice….

There once was a village in the Philippines that had as one of its residents a very wise old man. All the villagers trusted the old man to provide them answers to their questions and concerns. One day a farmer in the village went to the wise man for help. “Wise man, help me. A terrible thing has happened — my ox died and I won’t be able to plow my field. Isn’t this the worst thing that could have happened?” The wise old man said, “Maybe yes, maybe no.” The farmer went into the village and told his neighbors that the wise man had lost his mind. His ox dying surely was the worst thing that could have happened — and the wise man couldn’t see it.

The very next day, a strong, young horse was seen near the man’s farm. The farmer had the idea to catch the horse to replace his ox — and he did. The farmer was very happy. Plowing the field had never been easier. He felt bad, so he went back to the old wise man to apologize. “You were right, wise man. Losing my ox wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened — it was a blessing. I never would have caught the horse if it didn’t happen.” The old wide man again said, “Maybe yes, maybe no.” By now the farmer was sure the wise man had gone off his rocker.

A few days later, the farmer’s son was riding the horse and was thrown off. He broke his leg and wouldn’t be able to help with the crop. The farmer thought, oh no, now we’ll starve to death. 
So back to the old wise man the farmer went. “How did you know that catching that horse was not a good thing? You were right again — my son is injured and won’t be able to help with the crops. This must be the worst thing that could possibly have happened.” The old wise man once again said, “Maybe yes, maybe no.” The farmer was really ticked this time and stormed back to the village. 
The next day troops arrived to take every able-bodied man to the war that had just broken out. The farmer’s son was the only young man in the village who didn’t have to go. His son would live, while the others would surely die. 

The moral of this story is that we don’t know what’s going to happen — we just think we do. We sometimes let our minds make things worse than they actually turn out. A lot of the time, we’re wrong. If we just stay calm and open to possibilities, we can be reasonably sure, eventually, all will be well — or — maybe not.
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Once again, please excuse this entry. It’s just one more of my private therapy sessions with myself…
During my recent searching for answers, I’ve discovered that one of the basic spiritual principles in most philosophies is the idea of opening your heart to “what is.” You can’t insist that life be a certain way. After doing a fair amount of reading, it appears that idea is very important because most internal struggles stem from the desire to control life — to insist that it be different than it actually is. Of course, life isn’t always the way we want it to be — it’s just simply the way it is. Apparently, when we are able to surrender to the truth, we may be able to find peace of mind.
I think this is a good philosophy — now if I can just talk myself into believing it…..
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A couple stopped by last evening to have a glass of wine or three…. During their time here, it occurred to me that neither one of them were very good listeners. I won’t go into details, but if I picked up on it, I’d say it must have been pretty obvious. 

A lot of our friends knew that Claire and I had a tradition of setting aside one night each month to talk to each other and to listen to each other. I am certainly not one to give advice, but if I had to make one single suggestion as to how to help virtually all relationships, it would be to become a better listener.
Without doing a lot of extensive research, I’m not sure about this, but I’d guess that men would win the prize for worst listeners. I’d bet that if you took a survey of couples that claim they have a good, loving relationship and asked them what’s the secret to their success, most of them would tell you that it’s the other person’s ability to listen that’s a major contributor to the success of their relationship. 

Well, I got to wondering why more of us aren’t very good listeners. I think guys believe listening is kind of sissy stuff — they’d rather just jump right in do something — just listening seems like you’re doing nothing. But — the fact is that listening is the solution. 

I know I often don’t listen to people as closely as I should, and I know how I feel when I think someone isn’t listening to me. I don’t think many of us realize just how bad we are at listening until someone tells us about it or points it out to us. Poor listening skills are kind of like a bad habit that we don’t even realize we have sometimes. We probably all need to concentrate on listening to what someone is saying rather than thinking about what we’re going to say when it’s our turn…. or, even worse, jumping in and interrupting someone. 

I think our one night a month tradition of talking and listening made us both better listeners. Becoming a better listener is an art form, but it mostly just requires your intention to become a better listener — and of course a bit of practice. Speaking from personal experience, you’d be amazed at how much closer you feel to the ones your love if you just quiet down and become a better listener…..
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I heard the term Barbarian the other day. Well, of course, I got to thinking about that. I actually hadn’t heard the word for some time, but I think I’ve heard it most, if not all, my life. 
The dictionary defines barbarian as:
1. of or relating to a land, culture, or people alien and usually believed to be inferior to another land, culture or people.
2. lacking refinement, learning. or artistic or literary culture.

When the Roman Empire fell (in the fifth century) the entire empire was overrun by barbarians. Some historians say that Rome was on the verge of falling anyway, even before the barbarians moved in, but the barbarians got the credit/blame.

The original Greek word was applied to strangers who didn’t speak Greek. The word supposedly imitates what the unintelligible foreigners sounded like — “bar-bar-bar” (kind of like “blah, blah, blah”.) If that’s true, I guess every non-Greek civilization is barbarian. But — are barbarians more violent than their civilized neighbors? The Romans made their reputation sacking cities, beheading enemies, and sometimes slaughtering children. They made public entertainment out of killing Christians, Jews and slaves in all sort of imaginative ways. 

When pagan tribes began to invade the Roman Empire, some of them settled in and became part of the community. They brought fresh ideas, flexibility, tools, and skills with them, and passed them on to the new civilizations that followed.

A little extensive research came up with some of the nice things that were passed along from “barbarians.”
The Germanic tribes were farmers, and in some locations they revolutionized agriculture. They knew how to build a plow that worked better than those used in the heavy soil of northern Britain. That allowed land that formerly had to be plowed twice to be tilled much deeper and much faster. Those invaders soon became lords of great estates.

Most people would have trouble staying on a charging horse — much less wielding a weapon — without a saddle or stirrups. Barbarian warriors brought both of those to Europe. In fact, it’s said that invading Goths beat the Roman infantry because Goth horseman had stirrups. 

Saint Bede the Venerable, an eighth century theologian and historian, wrote that Easter has its roots in the pagan Anglo-Saxon spring equinox festival, around March 20-21. The spring festival was called Eostre after a goddess of spring and of beauty. The barbarian practice of coloring eggs, and their respect for rabbits (both revered as fertility images) were also incorporated into the Christian celebration. An interesting sidebar…. Bede the Venerable is the one that got everybody started dating events B.C and A. D. — before and after the year he mistakenly thought Jesus was born. (Maybe another good topic for this blog…..)

May Day celebrations is something else that came from barbarian rites. Dancing around a gaily decorated maypole was originally intended to encourage fertility in crops and animals.

Winter solstice was celebrated by tribal people in December. Solstice festivals honored vegetation gods, and included decorating with greenery, fir trees, and mistletoe, which symbolized fertility and long life. Northern tribes came up with the Yule log, feasts featuring a boar’s head or ham — and — the exchange of gifts. 

Even today’s Santa Claus is loosely based on the chief Norse god Odin, who was said to ride all around the world every winter giving out gifts and punishments. Odin was especially generous to children who put out treats for his eight-legged horse, Slepnir. 

So barbarians kind  of get a bad rap, but they probably weren’t such a bad bunch after all. Although maybe an eight-legged horse doesn’t have the same charm as a reindeer with a red nose…..
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I was watching the Discovery Channel the other night and there was a program about sepulchers. I didn’t know what a sepulcher was. Turns out it’s an old-timey word for a tomb or place of burial. It often describes tombs carved out of rock or built from stone. According to my extensive research, when the word “sepulcher” is used, it’s usually in reference to the tomb in which Jesus was laid to rest — a sepulcher near Calvary. His generally accepted place of burial is commemorated by the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, which was dedicated in the 4th century and has been destroyed and rebuilt several times. It is now visited by thousands of tourists every year.

But anyhow, this might be a good time to talk about final resting places…..
A lot of years ago, people had to make decisions on tombs  and crypts that make todays decisions about urns or whether to choose a cherry casket or pine box seem pretty straightforward.

A tomb can be something as simple as a hole in the ground, but it typically refers to a structure or vault for internment below or above ground. It can also mean a memorial shrine above a grave. In the Middle Ages, Christian tombs became breathtaking structures that sometimes saw entire churches built over the graves of departed dignitaries. For example, in 1066, King Edward the Confessor was entombed in front of the high alter at Westminster Abbey in Great Britain.

A crypt is a specific type of tomb, usually a vault or chamber built beneath a church. Outstanding servants of a particular church — bishops, for example, or extremely loyal parishioners — are often buried in the crypt underneath. Centuries ago in Europe, these vast burial chambers also served as meeting places. 

Sarcophagus, another term that I wasn’t familiar with, usually refers to an elaborate casket that isn’t sunk into the ground. The oldest are from Egypt  — box-shaped with separate lids. The later Egyptian sarcophagi were often shaped like the body. The most famous sarcophagus holds Egypt’s King Tut. It was discovered in 1922 and is made of quartzite and has reliefs of goddesses carved into the sides. It also has a heavy granite lid. 

But today, most people are buried in the ground with a simple headstone. I guess by the time all the bills are paid, there usually isn’t enough money left to for a King Tut style burial.
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I’ve used the word mesmerized from time to time. To be truthful, I’m not sure I always use it correctly. Sometimes I use it when I suppose I could have used fascinating, or sometimes in place of transfixed or astonished. Anyhow, that got me to thinking that maybe I didn’t really know how to use the term — after all, it is kind of a strange word. I wondered where it came from….
Checking the dictionary, I found that the word mesmerize comes from the last name of an 18th century German physician Franz Mesmer. Mesmer believed that all people and objects are pulled together by a strong magnetic force, that was later called mesmerism. The dictionary meaning is (1) attract strongly, as if with a magnet; (2) induce hypnosis in.

It turned out that my extensive research discovered that Franz Anton Mesmer was a pretty interesting character. He was a kind of astrological psychotherapist and faith healer all rolled into one. He was operating in Vienna when someone reported him to the Imperial Morality Police (that’s a real organization there.) Anyhow, apparently young girls were entering his house and not coming out for a long time — like days or even weeks. Mesmer claimed that the girls suffered from various nervous conditions and he’d moved them into his house for treatment. The cure that made him famous involved a blind girl who said she was cured after a few days where she was given massages. Well it turns out that in the 1760s, that sort of thing was looked on with some amount of suspicion and disapproval. The medical profession of Vienna ganged up on him and denounced his treatments as quackery — so, he packed up and headed for Paris. 

Mesmer claimed that illness was caused by blockages in the body — and he was one of the few people who knew how to remove them. He believed that the whole universe was full of an invisible energy, which he called “animal magnetism,” and it was controlled by the movements of the stars and planets. By “magnetizing” his clients (apparently by massaging them) he could dislodge the blockage and — they would be cured. 

Over time his popularity grew and more and more people wanted to see him, so he started magnetizing whole crowds at once. He invented aa contraption — a wooden tub of water with metal rods attached — so that a group could gather around it holding onto the metal rods and transfer their magnetism to the water. Then he would spray the water over the rest of the onlookers with a hose and tell them they were cured.

He also came up with the idea of magnetizing trees. Then he’d hang ropes from them and when his patients touched the ropes, the miracle energy would flow through them. Mesmer claimed that this channeling of energy also explained psychic phenomena like telepathy, clairvoyance, and the ability to see the future.

Mesmer became very popular in Paris and King Louis XVI was one of his biggest fans. The king offered Mesmer a pension for life — on one condition. He had to submit his work to scientific investigation. Not surprisingly, Mesmer said thanks, but no thanks. But the king appointed a royal commission to investigate Mesmer’s claims. The commission gathered the best scientists in Paris — among them, Benjamin Franklin, as an expert on electricity (Ben was, at the time, American ambassador to France.) The commission also included Antoine Lavoisier, the father of modern chemistry and Dr. Joseph Guillotin, inventor of the guillotine. No big surprise, but the commission concluded that Mesmer was a fraud. The commission admitted that some people seemed to have been cured, but there was no truth in what Mesmer had to say about scientific astrology, trees, ropes, tubs of water, etc. “Animal magnetism” was nothing but a hoax. 
Mesmer was smart enough to know he was beaten — he left France and the mesmerizing business for good and settled in Austria. 

I thought this was a great story, but it didn’t answer the question as to why the dictionary would define mesmerize as “induce hypnosis in.”  So — more extensive research….
In 1789, one of Mesmer’s disciples, Marquis de Puysgur was applying the Mesmer method of “animal magnetism” to a young boy, and discovered, to his surprise, that the boy was in a trance. He would stand, walk, and sit on command, and when he woke, he didn’t remember anything about it. So that may be the way mesmerize and hypnotism got linked.
Also, stage illusionists in both Europe and America, who were followers of Mesmer, added this new trick to their acts. So animal magnetism kind of faded away and mesmerism and hypnosis kind of became synonymous.
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One thing I always told my kinds when they were growing up was, “Choose your battles wisely.”  It’s so easy to get into a “battle” over some little insignificant thing, that later seems stupid that any time at all was wasted on the subject. 
I’m sure I wasn’t the first to come up with that advice, it’s probably still a popular phrase in parenting today. But I was thinking about it and it really is kind of important in living a contented life. Life is full of opportunities to choose between making a big deal out of something or simply letting it go, realizing that it doesn’t really matter. If all your battles are like going to war, you’ll probably have much less chance of winning those that are truly important. 

Naturally there will be times when you want, or need, to argue, confront, or even fight for something you believe in. The problem is that many of us argue, confront, and fight over almost anything. If you do that — turn your life into a series of battles over “nothing,” there’s almost sure to be so much frustration that you lose track of what is truly relevant.
If your goal is to have everything work out in your favor, even the tiniest disagreement or glitch in your plans can be made into a big deal. That’s probably a sure-fire prescription for frustration.

If you think about it, life is rarely exactly the way we would like it to be — and, other people very often don’t act the way we’d like them to. Every day there are aspects of life that we like and maybe an equal number that we don’t like. There is always going to be people that don’t agree with you. People that do things differently. And things that just don’t work out. These are facts of life. If you fight these facts of life, you’ll spend a good part of your life fighting battles.
I can see my kids rolling their eyes right now, but a better way to live is to decide which battles are worth fighting and which are better left alone. 

If your primary goal is to have everything work out perfectly, you’ve probably already given up on this blog and already commented how stupid it is. But if your goal is more along the lines of living a less stressful life, you’ll realize most battles aren’t worth fighting. Does which restaurant you go to really matter enough to argue over it? Does the fact that your neighbor parks his car on the grass warrant a letter to the HOA? Things like these are what many people spend their lives fighting about. 
Speaking for myself, I think I’ve always chosen my battles wisely, but today I find I rarely need to do battle at all.
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