I was listening to Rita Cosby on the radio yesterday. She was shocked at a recent poll that revealed that one in seven Americans believe the bombing of the World Trade Center was an inside job. Most of those who believe it are young. I don't know what it is about youth that makes one so cynical, perhaps a clash of hormones, but I remember being intrigued by the theory that FDR allowed the bombing of Pearl Harbor to justify a military build up that would end the Great Depression - and that happened nine years before my birth. And, of course, I swallowed every conspiracy theory concerning the JFK assassination. Now, older and, hopefully, wiser, I think anyone over the age of 30 who believes any of our past Presidents would have ordered mass murder isn't far from certifiable. As far as the JFK assassination is concerned, I have not been convinced that anyone but Lee Harvey Oswald was involved. Only one aspect makes me suspect differently - Jack Ruby. Why would he kill Oswald? We will probably never find out. Almost everyone of importance from that era has died. Whenever PBS shows a new documentary on the subject, I tell myself I'm not going to watch it, and I wind up riveted to the TV. For some cockamamie reason, conspiracy theories are fun. I remember how alive our dorm was during the hoax about Paul McCartney's death. The Beatles denied there was a hoax, but a lot of us didn't believe them, even though it would have been impossible to keep such a death secret. Is it so hard to believe the entire phenomenon had started with two fans talking and evolved into the fantastic? We actually called an operator in England and asked to be connected to a number that was supposedly on the cover of Magical Mystery Tour. She thought we were nuts and said something that began: "You Yanks...." And then there are those who deny the Holocaust, even though General Eisenhower had ordered pictures taken to prevent the inevitable denial he foresaw. What a world.
Bad News Billy visited the floating book shop today. No sooner had he said he was $2000 in arrears on his rent than he started rooting around for books for his grandkids. He chose four. I didn't want any money, but he insisted. Even though it was a token sum, I felt guilty. He has treated me so well. I forced an oldies CD I'd burned on him. He drove away blasting Rick Nelson's Travelin' Man, a big smile on his face. It was good to see.
A young woman bought Anita Diamint's The Red Tent, a novel with a biblical basis. And a young Russian mom, an artist, bought some books for her kids. She asked about setting up shop on the street. I told her to go for it.
Thanks, folks.
Read Vic's stories, free: http://members.tripod.com/vic_fortezza/Literature/
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