A Timely Old Lesson

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Last Thursday night, my wife and I attended a performance of Les Misérables at the Music Hall at Fair Park in Dallas. 

I was blown away. 

I’ve seen the musical on Broadway and in Houston, but I’ve never seen a production like this one.  The performers were fantastic, the orchestra was exquisite, and the large venue was packed.

As I sat there enjoying the beauty of Claude-Michel Schönberg’s masterful score, I was struck again by the profound message of Victor Hugo’s original story:  love and mercy are transformational.  It is a message as old as the Gospel. 

The first example comes when the benevolent Bishop Myriel gives Jean Valjean food and shelter, a kindness which Valjean returns by stealing some silverware.  When the police later capture Valjean, the bishop pretends that he gave Valjean the silverware and offers him two silver candlesticks, which he “forgot” to take.  That explanation spares Valjean from life imprisonment as a repeat offender.  Bishop Myriel then tells Valjean that his life has been spared for God and that he should use the money from the silver candlesticks to make a new life for himself.  And that he does, becoming a successful businessman and mayor of a town, although in the process also breaking the terms of his parole, which could send him to prison for life.

Years later, Valjean (now living under the pseudonym Madeleine) intervenes when his old nemesis, Inspector Javert, arrests a young woman named Fantine for striking a dandy who has harassed her in the street.  Although he risks being discovered by Javert, Valjean orders Javert to take Fantine to the hospital and later promises her that he will bring her daughter Cosette to her.    

Valjean again shows compassion when he learns that an innocent man will be tried as the Valjean who broke his parole.  He goes to court and reveals his identity, knowing that it could mean his arrest and imprisonment for life.  He returns to the hospital and promises Fantine that he will find Cosette and care for her.  Javert arrives to take Valjean into custody, but he overpowers the inspector and escapes.

The plot unfolds as Valjean rescues Cosette from her unscrupulous caretakers, takes her to Paris, and gives her a new life.  She grows up and meets and falls in love with a young revolutionary named Marius.  After the revolutionaries take to the streets, Javert infiltrates a group that has erected one of the barricades around the city.  When Javert is recognized by one of the revolutionaries and doomed to be executed, Valjean asks to be the one to execute him.  But as soon as they are alone, Valjean releases him.  Javert tells Valjean that he will never stop pursuing him and that he has made no bargain with him.  Valjean responds that he is releasing him unconditionally. 

Valjean returns to the barricades and rescues the seriously wounded Marius by carrying him to safety through the Paris sewers.  But when he emerges from the sewer, he finds Javert waiting for him.  Valjean begs Javert to allow him to take Marius to a doctor, and Javert reluctantly agrees.  Javert can’t reconcile Valjean’s selfless behavior with Javert’s belief that he is an inveterate criminal.  Unable to compromise his principles but no longer able to hold them sacred, Javert commits suicide by jumping into the Seine.

I don’t know whether Victor Hugo intended for Valjean to be a Christ figure, but he certainly describes a man who was transformed by love and mercy to become a noble and generous soul.  And then there’s Javert, who seems to be a hopeless Pharisee, living a life that brings joy to no one, including himself.

In the current age there is far too much acrimony and hate—far too many Javerts—and not nearly enough love and mercy.  I hope that those who watched the marvelous performance of Les Misérables will reflect on the transformational power of love and mercy in our troubled world and put the lesson into practice.

The Value of Patient Discernment

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No one I know—with the possible exception of my niece—is a bigger fan of Harper Lee’s classic, To Kill a Mockingbird, than I am.  So it was with no small amount of trepidation that I approached her second novel, Go Set a Watchman, the publication of which has been met with considerable suspicion.  Some commentators have claimed that Ms. Lee’s declining health and the death of her older sister, who was an attorney and the gatekeeper for, and protector of, Ms. Lee for most of her life, suggest that her decision to publish the second novel was not completely knowing and voluntary—a view that is also supported by Ms. Lee’s repeated assertions since the publication of To Kill a Mockingbird that she would never write or publish another novel.

But all of that is part of the backdrop.  What’s more interesting is the book.

Go Set a Watchman gets off to an incredibly slow and listless start.  Twenty-six year old Jean Louise Finch (a/k/a Scout) returns to Maycomb, Alabama, from New York to visit her ailing father Atticus.  The year is 1957, notably after the landmark Supreme Court case of Brown v. Board of Education.  Brother Jem Finch has previously died of the same congenital heart defect that claimed their mother.  There are three characters not found in To Kill a Mockingbird.  Uncle Jack, Atticus’s brother, is a retired doctor and aficionado of eighteenth and nineteenth century literature.  He also functions as a sort of mentor for Scout.  Aunt Alexandria has taken Calpurnia's place following the housekeeper's retirement and is caring for Atticus, who still attends to his law practice.  Aunt Alexandria is a foil against which Ms. Lee smashes the shibboleths of Southern womanhood.  Let’s just say she’s no “steel magnolia.”  Finally, there’s a grown-up childhood sweetheart named Henry (“Hank”) Clinton, who is a World War II veteran, now lawyer working for Atticus.  There is much discussion about whether he and Scout will get married.

The novel begins with numerous long and tedious descriptions of mundane events and flashbacks to Scout’s childhood.  The writing is so bad it’s hard to imagine that the great Harper Lee is the author.  Where the book gets interesting is when Scout discovers a pamphlet entitled “The Black Plague” among Atticus’s papers.  Later, Scout follows Atticus to a “Citizens’ Council” meeting at which Hank is also present.  Atticus introduces a speaker who delivers a speech full of racist invective.  For fans of To Kill a Mockingbird, who see Atticus Finch as an American Cincinnatus, this comes as a shock.  A reviewer in the New York Times is typical of many when she writes that readers will share Scout’s horror at learning that Atticus “has been affiliating with raving anti-integration, anti-black crazies . . .”  Such reviews typically make liberal use of the words “bigot” and “racist.”

What unfolds following the revelation of Atticus’s affiliation with the Citizens’ Council is what makes the book worth reading.  Ms. Lee provides a thoughtful and careful discussion of race relations at the beginning of the modern civil rights movement and addresses many difficult questions that she avoided in To Kill a Mockingbird.  She paints the picture carefully with small strokes and delicate shades.  Unfortunately, reviewers like the author of the New York Times review see only the bold strokes in primary colors.  I suspect their failure to appreciate the subtlety of Ms. Lee’s work springs from their desire to claim a position on the moral high ground, rather than to try to understand the complex nature of the dramatic social changes that were taking place at that time.  It’s easier to lump people into predetermined categories than it is to truly understand what they think and feel.

Scout struggles with the same issues.  She is highly critical of her father’s involvement with the Citizens’ Council and claims she won’t marry Hank because of his involvement.  Nevertheless, after listening to Uncle Jack’s somewhat tortuous explanation of Atticus’s actions, she begins to understand that her father is an intelligent man of honor—a complex human being, not a super hero.  (One of the lessons of my novel, Death in Panama, is that much harm can result when people are too quick to draw conclusions that are either unsupported by the facts or based on a lack of understanding.  The risk of such harm is especially acute when the conclusion concerns something important, such as whether someone is a racist.  The care one takes in drawing a conclusion should be directly proportional to the importance of the conclusion.)  

If the reader can get past the tedious parts of Go Set a Watchman, there is much to learn, although it requires setting aside simplistic, preconceived notions of how the civil rights movement began and listening for the soft subtle voice of Ms. Lee.

Too Much in One Book?

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A friend recommended that I read the Pulitzer Prize-winning novel Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides.  Published in 2002, the book tells a long—and mostly satisfying—story about a protagonist who is intersex; that is, someone born with one or more variations in sex characteristics so that the person does not fit the typical definitions for male or female bodies.

What I found confusing about Middlesex is that the novel is really two stories in one, and I felt that each story suffered from having to elaborate on the other. 

On the one hand, Middlesex is the story of a family of Greek immigrants.  It begins in 1922 when Eleutherios (“Lefty”) and his sister Desdemona flee Smyrna, Greece (now Izmir, Turkey), during the chaos of the Greco-Turkish War, and board a passenger ship bound for the United States.  Although they are brother and sister, they decide to get married by the ship’s captain.  Having come from a small village where marriages between cousins are commonplace, they justify the relationship, even though they know it’s wrong.  That union plants the seed, as it were, for the other story.  More about that later.  The family saga continues as Lefty and Desdemona make a life for themselves in Detroit, Michigan.  The family lives out the American dream of financial success, despite setbacks caused by the decay of Detroit, which Mr. Eugenides poignantly describes.

Then there’s the other story in Middlesex.  The grandchild of Lefty and Desdemona begins life as a little girl named Calliope (“Callie”), but as she reaches puberty she discovers that she’s more male than female.  After she’s injured by a tractor, the doctor treating her discovers that she is intersex.  That fact was not previously discovered because Callie’s family doctor is an aging Greek physician who had helped her grandparents escape to the United States.  After the secret of Callie’s condition is out—so to speak—her parents take her to a clinic in New York, where she undergoes numerous tests and examinations by the world’s leading expert on intersex.  When Callie learns that she’s going to have sex reassignment surgery, she runs away and assumes a male identity. 

Hitchhiking cross-country, she begins calling herself “Cal.”  She encounters a number of strange characters and eventually reaches San Francisco, where she (now he) works in a strip club as “Hermaphroditus.”  When the club is raided by police, Cal is arrested.  Later, he’s released to the custody of his brother, who has come to California to retrieve him.  Cal’s brother tells him that their father has died, and the siblings return to their family home on Middlesex for the funeral.  When Cal goes to see his grandmother, Desdemona at first thinks he’s Lefty, but recalling stories from her old village about children born of incest, she soon realizes that Callie is now Cal.  Desdemona reveals to Cal that her husband, Lefty, was also her brother, and the story obtains closure.  The consequence of Desdemona’s sin is now laid bare.

Obviously, based on the awards and acclaim it has received, Middlesex is deemed to be a great work of literature.  But, as I read it, I kept thinking about Curly (Jack Palance) in the movie City Slickers, who told Mitch (Billy Crystal) that the secret to life is “one thing.”  Middlesex is a wonderful book, but it is most assuredly not one thing.  It is a family saga, a coming-of-age story, a social commentary on decaying cities, and. . . a detailed discussion of the challenges of living as an intersex.  It’s a good book, but I think Mr. Eugenides tried to accomplish too much in one book.  Still, it’s worth a read.  Hey, it won the Pulitzer Prize.

Renaissance Man

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     My wife and I have begun a book tour out West.  Our first stop was in El Paso, Texas, where we stayed with my West Point classmate, Dr. Stephen P. Hetz, MD, Colonel, US Army (Retired), and his wife Mary.

     One of the greatest blessings I’ve received in my life is being a member of the West Point Class of 1975.  I entered the class on a stormy July 1, 1971, with no brothers of my own and graduated on a sunny day four years later with 862.  They are my closest friends and have been with me through thick and thin.

     Steve is a special friend.  We went to through all the challenges West Point had to offer, but also got to go helicopter school after our second academic year, known as Yearling Year.  We went to Fort Wolters, Texas, for instruction and logged over forty hours on the Army’s TH55 training helicopters, known affectionately as "Mattel Messerschmitts." 

     Years after graduation I encountered Steve again at Fort Gordon, Georgia.  By then he was an Army surgeon, and my wife was in need of an appendectomy.  Because of our relationship, Steve didn’t perform the surgery, but he ensured that everything went smoothly and was there for me during that stressful situation.  A few months later, he was there for me again when I needed surgery and ensured that I was well taken care of.

     I entitled this post “Renaissance Man” because Steve is exactly that.  After graduation, he was commissioned as an Infantry officer.  He graduated from Ranger School and served in the 82nd Airborne Division.  Later, he participated in a highly competitive program, was selected to attend medical school, and became an Army doctor.  In December 1989, as a medical doctor, he parachuted into Panama with Army Rangers as part of Operation Just Cause.  That action earned him a gold star on his Master Parachutist Badge—a rare award for an Army doctor.  He went on to earn a reputation as one of the Army’s outstanding surgeons.  He had combat tours in Iraq and Afghanistan and was one of the authors of a highly regarded treatise, entitled War Surgery in Afghanistan and Iraq: A Series of Cases, 2003-2007.

     On this most recent trip, I learned that Steve has yet another talent of which I was unaware.  The airplane in the picture is an experimental airplane that he built by himself while working full time as a civilian surgeon at William Beaumont Army Medical Center in El Paso.  I was astounded when he described the process of assembling the plane, which he accomplished in only two years.  Because the airplane is experimental, he must log forty hours before he can take passengers.  He’s working toward that goal, and I look forward to the day when he flies to Georgetown, Texas, and gives me a ride.

     Courage and Drive ’75!

Slowing the Pace to Discover What's Really Important

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I just finished The Hideaway by Lauren Denton.  Ms. Denton is a Southern author, born and raised in Mobile, Alabama.  Hence, she knows the region that is the setting of The Hideaway.  The protagonist, Sara Jenkins, grew up in Sweet Bay, Alabama, but left and made a career for herself in New Orleans.  When her grandmother dies, she returns to Sweet Bay to take care of the estate.  That’s when things get interesting.  Ms. Denton creates a colorful cast of characters, chief of which is Sara’s grandmother, Mags, who reminded me of Ouiser Boudreaux, in Steel Magnolias.  The story jumps back and forth between the present and the early 1960s in order to explain things that are only hinted at in the beginning of the story.  Although I’m not a fan of that technique, Ms. Denton pulls it off well.  The pieces of the puzzle begin to come together when Sara finds a box in the attic containing some of Mags’s cherished mementos.  There are love interests—past and present—and threats from an unscrupulous land developer and challenges that keep things interesting.  In the end Ms. Denton provides an uplifting story that just might cause the reader to reflect on what is really important in life.  

Reminiscing About Old Times

While cleaning out a closet, I came across some old photos from my time in Panama.  (Click on the photo to advance the carousel.)  It reminded me of what a wonderful experience it was, although I don’t remember looking like a kid.  As I’ve mentioned before, Death in Panama is loosely based on my experiences in Panama in the early 1980s.  There were some really good times, as evidenced by the smile on my face in some of these pictures, but there were also some gut-wrenching emotional times.  The murder trial, on which much of Death in Panama is loosely based, was one of those times.

By the way, the protagonist in Death in Panama, Robert E. Clark, is a lot more handsome than yours truly.

An American Original: Andrew Jackson

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I just finished reading Andrew Jackson: His Life and Times by H.W. Brands, a professor of history at the University of Texas at Austin.  Brands is a talented writer who places the reader in the center of the exciting events surrounding one of our most colorful, yet controversial, presidents. 

Jackson broke the mold.  Though he was born in South Carolina, he was no Southern aristocrat.  Orphaned at a young age, he literally fought his way to adulthood, culminating in his famous victory in the Battle of New Orleans at the end of the War of 1812.  Jackson firmly believed in the right of the people to govern themselves, which constantly put him at odds with those—like John Quincy Adams—who believed ordinary Americans were unfit to govern themselves and could be dangerously swayed by demagogues.  He guarded states’ rights against Federalists, because he believed state governments were more reliable in determining the will of the people.  But more than anything Jackson believed in the Union and would vigorously oppose any perceived enemy—either foreign or domestic—that he believed threatened it. 

The polarization of the country and its leaders during the middle of the 19th Century is described in vivid detail, evoking some disconcerting similarities with where we find ourselves today.  Mr. Brands’s book is well worth reading.

Day One: Cross-Country Tour

It’s day one of our cross-country trip to promote Death in Panama.  We’re playing tag with Irma, but the first planned stop is Atlanta.  We have events planned in Charleston, South Carolina; New York City; Darien, Connecticut; and Chatham, Massachusetts.  We might even have an event in Grand Rapids, Michigan.  Keep your fingers crossed that this trip will get the Word out!

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Tom T. Hall: a Generous Southern Gentleman

When I was a teenager, my wonderful brother-in-law, Jimmy Wilson, introduced me to a remarkable artist named Tom T. Hall.  Jimmy loved all sorts of country music from Johnny Cash to Willie Nelson.  But one Sunday he told me about a new artist that he'd recently learned about named Tom T. Hall.  Jimmy was excited about a new song of his called "Old Dogs and Children and Watermelon Wine." 

As we listened to several Tom T. Hall tapes, I concluded that there was something truly special about him.  He was not only a good singer, he was a wonderful songwriter. Some of his songs were funny, like "Harper Valley PTA."  Some pulled on your heart strings, like "I Love."  And some were absolute poetry, like "Old Dogs and Children and Watermelon Wine."  

Years later, when I was writing Death in Panama, I was struggling with a chapter in which the main character, Robert E. Clark, goes fishing with his boss.  The two men start talking about women and waxing nostalgic about their mothers and how women today don't measure up.  A line from "Old Dogs and Children and Watermelon Wine" came to me.  An old man is talking to a young man about life and at one point tells him: "You know women think about theyselves when men folk ain't around."

The line was perfect for what I wanted to convey in the chapter, but I knew that quoting the lyrics of a song is tricky because they are protected by copyright law.  So, I took a chance and wrote Mr. Hall a letter requesting permission to quote his song.  A couple of weeks later I received a letter back from him not only giving me permission to quote his famous song, but also noting that, like me, he had served in the Army.  I was very pleased and wrote him a note thanking him.

When I finally completed Death in Panama four years later, I decided to mail Mr. Hall a copy of the book.  Again, a couple of weeks later I received a gracious letter from him, thanking me for the book and commenting on some things in the chapter.  I was overwhelmed that a big star like Tom T. Hall not only allowed me to quote one of his most famous songs, but was so gracious about the whole thing.

In a time when virulent, hateful speech spews from the television almost daily, it is comforting to know that there are still generous gentlemen in the world--even big shots like Tom T. Hall.

Thanks again, Mr. Hall.

Tom T. Hall

A "Gaffe"? Really?

In reporting on Panamanian President Juan Carlos Varela's recent visit to the White House, the Washington Post mocked President Trump's comment that we (meaning the United  States) did a good job building the Canal.  The Post gushed, "Within minutes, Twitter had seized on what it deemed the latest Trump gaffe."

Trying to pass the responsibility for the "gaffe" label to those who commented on Twitter is specious.  The Washington Post has an agenda:  they will do whatever they can to try to make President Trump look bad. Whether you voted for Mr. Trump or not, whether you like him or not, he is our President.  And he deserves to be treated fairly.

The fact is, this time President Trump is correct.  We did build the Panama Canal.  At the time of its completion, the Canal was an unprecedented engineering accomplishment.  As David McCullough notes in The Path Between the Seas, "Apart from wars, it represented the largest, most costly single effort ever before mounted anywhere on earth."  It was a monumental achievement, on a par--for its time--with landing a man on the moon.  And it secured a place for the United States among the world powers.

Yes, as President Varela quipped, we built it "about 100 years ago."  But that in itself is remarkable, considering the equipment available at that time.  And indeed the locks are still working as originally designed.  The only significant change to the Canal since it was completed in 1914 has been the addition of an additional set of locks to accommodate larger ships.

Did the United States make mistakes along the way?  Of course, we did.  Some of those mistakes are explained in my novel Death in Panama.  But in the main the United States accomplished a great thing by building the Canal.  It made the world a better place and improved the lives of Panamanians who benefit from being located in one of the most important commercial centers in the world.

Death of a Tyrant

Manuel Noriega, the former military dictator of Panama, died on May 29, 2017.  He was 83.

One of the most unusual experiences I had during my time in Panama in the early 1980s was meeting Manuel Noriega.  There was no conversation, mind you.  It was an official event at the officers’ club on Fort Amador.  I shook hands with him in a receiving line and attempted some small talk, although he did not appear to understand English, which was strange given his long-time connection with the U.S.  In fact, many Panamanians—from maids and gardeners to elite members of upper-class society—spoke English very well.  Noriega seemed ill at ease at the event, unlike the smiling man-of-the-people one sees in pictures of him.

It was as if he was fulfilling some responsibility that he really did not want to do. At the time, he was the chief of military intelligence, a post given to him by his former mentor, Omar Torrijos, after a 1968 military coup. Torrijos was the Panamanian leader with whom President Carter negotiated the Panama Canal Treaty, which transferred control of the Canal to Panama.

General Torrijos died in a plane crash shortly before I arrived in Panama in January 1982.  Unbeknownst to those of us who were not in the military intelligence, Noriega was, at the time of that reception, in the process of consolidating his power.  He became the de facto ruler of Panama in December of 1983. 

What was known to almost everyone in the military was that Noriega worked with the CIA.  The Reagan Administration was worried about the Sandinistas in El Salvador, and Noriega provided a conduit for weapons, military equipment, and cash that the U.S. wanted to get into the hands of friendly forces throughout Central and South America. But he was also a major cocaine trafficker.  Nevertheless, the U.S. intelligence officials continued their relationship with him because he was useful for their covert military operations in Latin America.

Noriega ruled Panama with a heavy hand.  He repressed the media, expanded the military, persecuted his political opponents, controlled the outcomes of elections by fraud, and became a rich drug trafficker.  His relationship with the U.S. soured because of these activities and because he sold intelligence information to opponents of the U.S.  In 1988 the U.S. indicted Noriega on drug trafficking charges in Miami, Florida.  Then, in 1989, the U.S. invaded Panama, removed Noriega from power, and brought him to the United States, where he was tried on eight counts of drug trafficking, racketeering, and money laundering.  He was sentenced to forty years in prison, which was later reduced to thirty years.

When he was released from U.S. prison in September 2007, Noriega was extradited to France where he was tried for murder and money laundering, found guilty, and sentenced to seven years in prison.  In 2011 Noriega was extradited to Panama to serve a twenty-year prison term.  In March of this year he was operated on to remove a brain tumor.  He developed a brain hemorrhage after the surgery, which led to his death.

It was ignominious end for the man who had once brandished a machete during an anti-American tirade and declared to the crowd, “Not one step back!”

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What Would Momma Say?

It’s as old as King David and as modern as Tiger Woods.  It affects macho men like Arnold Schwarzenegger and wimps like Woody Allen.  Offenders can be serious men of great responsibility like General David Petraeus, as well as silly little men like former Congressman Anthony Weiner.  It’s infidelity, and it is rampant in our culture.

The characters in Death in Panama unfortunately reflect what I saw when I lived there.  Maybe it was the hot weather and beautiful Panamanian women that made them forget how they’d been raised.  Or maybe the heat simply made them a little crazy.  In any event, it was not uncommon to see men—who had probably been faithful church-goers back home—casually disregard their marriage vows. 

Today, infidelity is an epidemic everywhere.  Panama is no worse than Atlanta or Dallas or Houston or, certainly, Washington, D.C.  The Internet has made it easy to find willing accomplices—sometimes paid, sometimes not.

The nagging question for me is: Why?  Why do men feel the need to forsake the women to whom they pledged their love?

Research suggests that the answer is not what you might think.  That is, it’s not for sex.

In his best-selling book, The Truth About Cheating, marriage counselor M. Gary Neuman reports on his survey of cheating and non-cheating men.  Forty-eight percent of the men he surveyed said that the primary reason they cheated was because of emotional dissatisfaction.  Only eight percent said sexual dissatisfaction was the main factor.  “Our culture tells us that all men need to be happy is sex, says Neuman. “But men are emotionally driven beings too. They want their wives to show them that they’re appreciated, and they want women to understand how hard they’re trying to get things right.”

So why do men feel unappreciated and misunderstood?  Neuman concludes that the problem is cultural.  “Most men consider it unmanly to ask for a pat on the back, which is why their emotional needs are often overlooked,” Neuman says.

His advice to women:  “Create a marital culture of appreciation and thoughtfulness—and once you set the tone, he’s likely to match it.”

Relationships are complicated, and I don’t profess to have the answers.  But I do think that it’s a problem that both men and women need to work on.  Neuman found that the cheaters were not, as one might expect, uncaring cads.  On the contrary, sixty-six percent of the cheaters said they felt guilt during the affair.  And sixty-eight percent of them never dreamed they’d be unfaithful in the first place. 

So, if guilt isn’t enough to stop men from cheating, what is?

Although it might sound like a throwback to the 1950s, Neuman suggests that women focus on their own behavior, because that’s something they completely control.  He says they should show their appreciation, prioritize time together, and initiate sex more.  In short, give your man man a reason to keep you at the front of his mind.

How Do We Know?

“The eye sees only what the mind is prepared to comprehend.” 
Henri-Louis Bergson, French philosopher

In many respects, the characters in Death in Panama are no different from the rest of us.  Sometimes, they sincerely believe something is true, when in fact it is not.  Their error is not borne of malice; rather, it’s the result of misperception.

We can be fooled by the physical world.  For example, we think that our eyes see color.  In fact, what we perceive as color is actually the product of the surface properties of the object and how it reflects certain wavelengths of light.  If the reflection of the light changes for some reason, such as different lighting conditions or haziness in the atmosphere, then the color of the object will change.

We can also be fooled because the perception of our senses can be distorted by our minds. 

Let’s consider a few ways that can happen.

First, when we believe that something is true we tend to look for evidence that supports that belief and fail to notice evidence that tends to undermine it.  Psychologists call this tendency the “confirmation bias” and have found that it is more pronounced in emotionally charged situations. 

British psychologist Peter Wason conducted a series of experiments in the 1960s in which he asked participants to identify a rule that applies to a series of three numbers, such as 2-4-8.  Participants were asked to construct other sets of three numbers to test their assumptions.  Invariably, they tried sequences such as 16-32-64 or 3-6-12, all of which were correct.  After a few tries, the subjects would stop, thinking they had discovered the rule.  In fact, they had not.  The rule was simply an increasing sequence of numbers.  Almost all of the participants failed to discover the real rule, because they only tried numbers that confirmed their hypotheses.  Very few tried to disprove their hypotheses.

Here's a quick video of the experiment: 

To avoid the confirmation bias, we should check the evidence carefully before drawing a conclusion.  We should be conscious of the tendency to see only evidence that supports a conclusion we’ve already drawn, and we should test our hypotheses by trying to disprove them.  In short, each of us should keep an open mind.

Another distortion, related to the confirmation bias, is called the “anchoring effect.”  The anchoring effect is the label psychologists give to a common human tendency to rely too heavily on the first piece of information that is offered; that is, the “anchor.”  After the anchor is set, subsequent judgments are, to an extent, based on that first piece of information.  That’s why car salesman like to set an initial price (the anchor), which then sets the standard for the remainder of the negotiations.  After that, any price below the anchor seems more reasonable, even if it is still higher than what the car is really worth!

We should guard against the distortion caused by the anchoring effect by being cognizant of it.  For example, if our first experience with someone is negative, we should not allow that experience to distort later interactions.  They should be judged individually, as objectively as possible.  If a salesman attempts to set a price—and make it an anchor—then we should get some comparisons.  In fact, that is exactly what we’re doing when we comparison shop:  we’re getting new price anchors.

Listen carefully to the instructions at the beginning of the video take the test:  

After you take the test, scroll down to continue reading.


This experiment illustrates another distortion of perception, which occurs when we are focused intently on a certain thing.  We can actually fail to see something that is right before our eyes.  The failure to see is not based on the limits of our eyes, but on the limits of our minds.   When our attention is focused intently on one thing, we fail to notice other, unexpected things. 

As you can see from the test, we can miss important information that is right before us, if we are focused on something else.  This distortion might cause us to miss information that would have led us to a different conclusion about a person or a situation. 

Finally, our perception can be distorted because we simply don’t have all the facts.  The person who cuts us off in traffic might be taking someone to the hospital.  Or, he might be a jerk.  Normally, we simply don’t have the whole story—the whole truth.  Sometimes, we’re upset because we interpret situations or events—or give them assumed meanings—instead of focusing on what we can actually observe and confirm to be true.  Sometimes our perceptions, and thus our reactions, are based on erroneous assumptions that would be different if we had more information. 

Whether one is an investigator, like Jaime Hernandez, or a lawyer, like Robert E. Clark, or simply a human being trying to make his or her way in the world, it is extremely important to draw conclusions based on solid, objective evidence, not perceptions that can be distorted in ways we can’t even imagine. 

Women in Panamanian Society

The role and treatment of women in Panamanian society are among the many things that shock protagonist Robert E. Clark.  His observations, interspersed throughout Death in Panama, are a window into what Panama was like during the early 1980s.  Although Death in Panama is a novel and, therefore, fiction, many of Clark’s observations are nonetheless based on fact.  Like Clark, I served in the U.S. Army in Panama from 1982 to 1985.  What Clark recounts in the book is based on what I saw.

For example, he notices that attractive young women often find good jobs as receptionists and secretaries, while those who are plain or unattractive are relegated to working as maids and cooks.  There is also disparate treatment based on social class:  women in the upper classes are treated better than those in the poor classes, regardless of their appearance.  And, for women who are interioranos (“interior people” of mixed European and Native American descent) or of African heritage, the treatment is the worst.

There are signs that things have gotten better since the early 1980s.  Panama had a female President from 1999 to 2004.  And in 2013, Panama passed a law that classified “femicide”—the intentional murder of a woman because of her gender—as a crime.  The law also established:  a Special Prosecutor for the investigation of such crimes, the National Committee Against Violence on Women, and a regulatory framework to eradicate all types of violence against women.  Nevertheless, much remains to be done in order for women to achieve gender equality.

A survey conducted by Gallup in 2013-14 found that Latin Americans, when compared to people in Asia, Europe, Sub-Saharan Africa, and the Middle East, are the least likely to say that women are treated with respect and dignity.  A median of only 35% of adults in 22 Latin American countries said that women are treated with respect and dignity, compared to 65% of adults in the Middle East and North Africa, 76% percent in Asia, and 72% in Europe.

Panama does fare better than other Latin American countries, however.  About half of the adults in Panama believe that women are treated with respect and dignity.  Not surprisingly, though, the numbers vary depending upon the gender of the person answering the question:  55% of Panamanian men think that women are treated with respect and dignity, while only 46% of Panamanian women feel that they are treated that way.

The gender inequality that continues to exist in Panamanian society might be the result of the country’s “macho” culture, which characterizes much of Latin America.  Or it might be because of the disintegration of the family, which is what the Catholic Church has suggested.  Or it might simply be because Panama, despite its economic strides during the last decade, continues to have the second-most unequal income distribution in Latin America.  Whatever the reason, if Panama wants to take its place among the modern societies of the world and realize the full potential of its recent economic advances, then it needs to continue on the road to reform.

Women in the Army Part Two

In the macho culture of the Army in the 1980s, a woman needed to have sharp elbows to survive, especially a woman like Suzanne Watkins who is best described by the adjective “frumpy.”  Nevertheless, she not only survived, she made her way by the dint of hard work.  She made mistakes, but she refused to let them slow her progress.

I saw many women like Suzanne Watkins when I served on active duty from 1975 to 1988.  Some came to the Army well prepared, because they had participated in ROTC programs in college.  Others, like Suzanne Watkins, came to the Army straight from civilian life and suffered as a result.

As the father of four daughters, I have had a keen interest in the role of women in our society.  I am extremely proud of my girls and have tried to teach each one of them to be a lady, but to never compromise her dreams and to never accept second-class status, when first-class is due.

Women in the Army and in corporate America walk a fine line.  If they come on too strong, they’re called “bitches.”  If they act too demure, they aren’t taken seriously.  And, overlaid on all of this is the pall of sexual tension, especially if they’re attractive.

Despite the problems it has had—notably a number of sexual harassment cases—the Army has done a good job of integrating women into the force, especially when one considers the cultural and social obstacles it had to overcome.  For most of the 20th Century, women were excluded from most combat and combat support specialties and were relegated to the clerical and supply fields.  Married women could not enlist, and women who became pregnant in the service faced mandatory discharge.  That began to change in the late 1970s.  And by the early 1980s—when Suzanne Watkins arrived in Panama—the official policy concerning women in the Army was to make it work, despite the male chauvinists who occupied its ranks.  Consequently, when the Army deployed to the Persian Gulf in 1990, 8.6 percent of the total force deployed to Saudi Arabia—26,000 soldiers—were women.  

Despite the progress of women in the Army, a major barrier to their career advancement and usefulness has remained:  women are still excluded from most combat assignments.  And since combat is the core mission of the military, service in combat is a major determinant of promotions.  Nevertheless, current conflicts have made that distinction somewhat irrelevant.  There is no longer a “front” to go to.  Women like Jessica Lynch, a unit supply specialist in a convoy vehicle driven by another woman in the 507th Maintenance Company, can be ambushed, injured, and captured.  

Thus, it is unfair to put women into the dangers of a combat environment without proper training.  It is ridiculous to suggest that they are not in a “combat arm” and, therefore, do not need the same training their male counterparts receive.  And, it is unfair to dump women like Suzanne Watkins into the physically demanding environment that typifies most Army installations without proper training.  

Nevertheless, women have survived and will survive in the Army.  They have transformed the venerable institution over the last three decades, mostly for the good, although there’s still a lot of work to do.

Women in the Army Part One

In Death in Panama, Captain Suzanne Watkins is the colleague of protagonist Captain Robert E. Clark.  Captain Watkins represents many women who served in the Army during the 1980s.  To a certain extent, they were trailblazers.  And, like many trailblazers, she was unprepared for the challenges she would face.

When Captain Clark was a cadet at West Point, there were no women there.  That changed in July 1976, when 119 women were admitted to West Point as members of the Class of 1980.  And, it wasn’t until October 1978 that the Women’s Army Corps was disestablished and all women in the Army were integrated into existing branches of the Army.

There were many career soldiers—many of whom I served with—who thought it was inappropriate to have women serve alongside men, even in roles that had nothing to do with combat service.  Trailblazers like Captain Watkins were dumped into these sometimes hostile environments and expected to perform.

Worse yet, they faced a challenging environment.  The Army emerged from the Vietnam War like a middle-aged man awaking after a raucous New Year’s Eve, determined to get back into shape—morally as well as physically.  Physical fitness became extremely important in the Army.  The Annual Physical Training Test went from a one-mile run to a two-mile run, and also included sit-ups and push-ups.  Lunchtime on most installations looked like the Peachtree Road Race, except runners were running in all directions. 

These challenges were especially difficult for women like Suzanne Watkins, who went straight from law school to the rigorous environment of the U.S. Army with minimal, if any, preparation.  She not only had to learn the customs and courtesies of the service, she had to whip herself into shape almost overnight.  Early in the story of Death in Panama, she complains that she had not had time to work out while she was in law school.  It’s a fair comment.  For men like Robert Clark, who were combat arms officers, each work day started with physical training.  When Suzanne was finishing her part-time job or preparing to go to class, Captain Clark was leading his platoon in early morning PT.  Consequently, it’s entirely understandable that Captain Watkins would be unable to keep up with her fellow officers on the early morning runs.

Things have gotten better.  

The Faces of Poverty

Before I moved to Panama in 1982, I thought I knew what poverty was.  I didn’t.  As recounted in Death in Panama and in other blogs on this Web site, the sights, sounds, and smells of Panama’s poverty were heartbreaking.  But I was only an observer from afar.  I understood very little about poverty until much later.

By 1997, I had left active duty in the Army and moved my family to an Atlanta suburb.  We went to a church where the parking lot was full of late-model cars, and the pews were full of freshly scrubbed and well-dressed worshippers.  One Sunday, the pastor made an announcement about a “mission” trip to Honduras.  As I was to learn later, the “mission” was one of assistance, not spreading the Gospel:  the people we helped in Honduras were already well aware of God’s word.  In fact, they knew it better than most of us who went on that mission trip.

That summer, a team of about fifteen men and women went to a small town near La Ceiba, Honduras, where we helped to rebuild a church that had been almost demolished by a storm.  Every day, we labored in the searing sun, building pews and putting a new roof on the structure.  We had to wear gloves when we worked on the roof, because the metal got too hot to touch.  We worked side-by-side the members of the church, most of whom were taking time away from jobs, thereby reducing their already meager incomes.  There was a language barrier, of course, but we worked through that with lots of smiles and what looked like a continuous game of Charades. 

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That trip to Honduras was followed by four mission trips to Peru.  On the last two, I took my youngest daughter, who was fourteen years old during her first trip and fifteen on her last.  We visited an orphanage in Lima and travelled by bus over a two-lane, winding road up the Andes Mountains—over 15,000 feet—and down the other side to a little town called San Ramon.  Just as I had in Honduras, my daughter and I worked and worshipped with people who were struggling to survive.  

One morning, a tiny, elderly lady appeared at the worksite with a pitcher of orange juice that was almost half her size—her gift to her friends from North America.  She walked around and gave each of us a cupful.  We later learned that she lived in a shack with a dirt floor.  She had arisen before dawn and gone into the jungle to pick the oranges she used to make her gift.  The fresh juice was unbelievably good—a far cry from the pale substitute we normally get from a frozen can.  We concluded that it was more wonderful than any we’d ever had, because of the love that must have gone into it.  

I learned some valuable lessons during those trips to Honduras and Peru.  I learned that I’m extremely lucky to have been born where I was.  I now understand—in ways that are unforgettable—that the opportunities all of us take for granted are unknown to most of the world.  In addition, poverty is no longer an abstract concept for me.  It has a human face—many human faces.  My Bible bears inscriptions from Cinthya Bazán and Victor Ramirez and many other friends I will probably never see again.  But they touched my heart in ways that are difficult to describe.  They are people who—just like me—are trying to make their way in the world, although their paths are much tougher than mine.  

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Life has shown me that sometimes people are poor because they’ve made bad choices or simply had bad luck.  Many other times—in places like Panama and Honduras and Peru—nothing they can do will change their circumstance.  If they are born into poverty, there is little chance they will escape it.  Nevertheless, they are human beings who love and laugh and hurt and cry.  And, they hope that somehow tomorrow will be a better day.

Panama Then and Now Part Two

For centuries, Panama’s poverty, and the oligarchy that perpetuated it, shaped the country’s culture.  For many people, hope never took root—never had a chance to blossom.  People born into poverty usually remained there, because the “system” was stacked against them.  Escape was virtually impossible, without using brute—and often illegal—force.  It is difficult for Americans to comprehend such desperation without seeing it first-hand, without smelling the fetid slums in which many of them are forced to live.

Back in the early ‘80s, I watched poor Panamanians toil away in the hot sun for a few dollars.  Back then, to be successful in Panama one needed connections—preferably bloodline connections—with the members of the elite families, who owned everything that was worth anything.  No legitimate business could be started without dealing with one or more them, none of whom were prepared to provide the benefits of their status without receiving exorbitant compensation in return.  That meant little profit for those who actually did the work and took the risks.  Consequently, the poor focused on making enough money to go from one day to the next.

Today, things are much better.  A recent study by the World Bank reported that from 2007 to 2012, Panama’s poverty (using the national poverty line) declined from roughly 40% to 26%, which was greater than the average decline in other Latin American and Caribbean countries that the study examined.  In addition, only Bolivia saw a greater improvement in income inequality—the gap between rich and poor.  Although the study found that many countries were experiencing growth in their middle class, the growth in Panama’s middle class was particularly pronounced.  The report concluded that these positive developments were the result of the completion of the transfer of the operation and ownership of the Panama Canal from the U.S. to Panama in 2000; the transformation of Panama into a logistics and trade hub, as well as a financial center; and important public investment projects, including the expansion of the Canal with a third set of locks, capable of handling much larger ships, and the construction of the Metro in Panama City.

Despite these improvements, Panama still has a long way to go.  It is my sincere wish that they remain on the path to a brighter future, so that Hope can, once and for all, take root.

Panama Then and Now Part One

Panama is a paradox.  It’s naturally beautiful, but scarred with ugly poverty.  It’s the Garden of Eden for some and Hell on Earth for others.  Its flowers and fauna are magnificent examples of God’s handiwork, and yet the shanties and crime of El Chorrillo and Boca la Caja are poignant reminders of what mankind often does with it.

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I lived in Panama in the early ‘80s, before Operation Just Cause removed Panama’s dictator, General Manuel Noriega.  Although Noriega had been a longtime CIA asset and Washington ally, his increasing involvement with the Medellin Cartel and his brutal political tactics, including beatings, imprisonment, and murder, were too much for President George H. W. Bush, who ordered the invasion, which began on December 20, 1989.  Noriega was captured, tried for drug trafficking and related crimes, and imprisoned in Florida.  After completing his sentence, he was extradited to France, where he was found guilty of additional crimes and sent to prison again.  Later, the French extradited him to Panama, where he was convicted yet again—this time for human rights violations.  Today, at age 81, Noriega sits in a Panamanian prison.     

Fortunately, I had little contact with the darker side of Panama when I was there, although I did meet General Noriega at an official event.  I found that the sobriquet the Panamanian people had given him—Old Pineapple Face—was clearly justified.  There is no question that Noriega was horrible.  But to fully understand how and why he became the man he was, one must consider the socio-economic system in which he grew up.  More about that in the next post.