How do I know all this? It was taught by my Father long ago. Shall I
take you back there? To those whispered haunts of childhood that are way
back in the age of "duck and cover" and Joe Demaggio? Yes, lets....
Place: Pound Ridge, New York. Upper Westchester County, one of the most
charming bedroom communities within commuting distance from Manhattan.
It is also one of the most pastoral. "God's Country," was the epithet of
choice. Our house sat on a hill overlooking the Pound Ridge Reservation.
There were many miles of view from our windows, and in that view no
other sign of civilization.  It was hard to believe that we were only 40
miles from Rockefeller Center.  There in this idyllic setting, scotch in
hand, Jeremiah was certainly in the wilderness.
My Father commuted to Rockefeller Center where he drew current event
maps for Time Magazine. It was a short week, he never worked Fridays, so
he freelanced with the extra time drawing maps for history books. He was
from Brooklyn and Pound Ridge was his first taste of status. Both my
parents were staunch Democrats. The town was almost entirely Republican
and the Democrats - "a few Jews and misfits" - clung together for
support. Being a Democrat was as far left as my Father could stretch his
leanings, and for someone who strained switching allegiance from the
Dodgers to the Mets, he stretched the limit. Although Henry Luce
employed a few notable ex-commies such a Witiker Chambers, and although
John Hersey (as in Luce's words, "The Pope is a Christian") was a noted
Democrat, these were the exceptions: Chambers was polarized into a far
right cold warrior and Hersey, never fully or logically explaining the
reasons ( Weeeellll  ), left because of "philosophical" differences with
his boss. If Luce claimed that he invited dissent, his actions belied
this. My Father kept a low profile with his politics at work and always
felt "surrounded by the enemy". A good portion of the conversation in my
parent's hard drinking set was political. Most of the set were "those
misfit democrats", but there was one noticeable exception. Alan Jackson
had the largest syndicated radio news show: "Alan Jackson and the News".
This was during the transition when radio was not yet totally co-opted
by TV. Alan Jackson came to "hear the other side's point of view", and I
can still hear him, sitting on the raised hearth, haranguing through the
boozy room, on and on how preposterous it was that anyone could question
the loyalty of the "Pres-i-dent of the Unit-ed States" (Ike) or infer
that he had "commie connections". I remember that conversation most
particularly because of my Father's reaction after Mr. Jackson and the
other guests had left. Speaking with my Mother, he noted that he was
coming to terms with his shift of consciousness toward what I am
referring to as the "ruler perspective". What was shocking to my Father,
and this was clearly stated, was that he, a nobody, could know so much
more concerning the current events than a "Professional". I want to be
clear that I am not talkng about political opinion, or view, but degree
of "insider perspective" that my Father was privy to. He (too!) was
getting his bearings. My Mother was a good person to bounce this stuff
off of as she was politically very savvy. She collected political novels
that were the genre of disguised truth, a fan of Vidal etc. "Just so
different!" my father would shake his head. "Guns and money," my Mother
would nod.

I am entering here a few notes concerning my Mother. I said that this is
a true account. For that reason please forgive that the next few facts
do not flow gently into this narrative. They are just that: facts, and
although possibly in some way they are connected, my inclination here is
that I would perform a disservice with conclusions or views that might,
with perspective too close to this tapestry, be distorted.
Dr. Stephen Pelham Jewett, my Mother's Father, was one of the first
psychiatrists in the U.S. He had met Sigmond Freud in Wochester, Mass.,
when he had come over to lecture. My Grandfather was just out of medical
school. He got into the field at the ground floor, helped start the
first Dept of Psychiatry at a medical school and taught psychiatry most
of his life.
He was the "governments boy" and always there for a fee to say
"electrocute him - he's sane". He. spoke, on a number of occasions, of
the experiments in the death camps, in a manner suggestive of an
intimate understanding. It is very unusual for Doubleday to publish
poetry. In the late 1960's they were going to do so. He wrote verse in
English, Latin and classical Greek. All copies of his writing were
stolen out of a motel room in Florida. Money and jewelry were not taken.
It was too much to re-do: they were never published. He admitted on a
few occasions to the possibility that Rickover was a genius in a manner
which bespoke "saying something naughty". At age seven, post-partem to
the birth of my only sibling, my Mother had a manic episode (she was
bipolar) that was also classified as psychotic. It was the first of
about six episodes throughout her life for which she was hospitalized.
My Father and my Grandfather parted ways after this first
hospitalization. My Mother was hospitalized without my Father's
knowledge at a hospital where my Grandfather had no privileges but was
the attending physician for his own daughter. I remember her screaming
about "beings" that were operating on her children. This was plural, the
year: 1951. 1 had chronic tonsillitis. I never had them out, but when I
was 4 and 5, a very slight 4 and 5, it took three adults with a sheet to
hold me down for penicillin. She also stated, then I think, but in
subsequent episodes for sure, that "Dr. Mengele (of the death camps) is
being protected by us. He's in South America." The last statement turned
out more than 30 years later to be true, he was alive, he was in South
America, and he certainly was protected by somebody. To my knowledge,
and I listened very carefully, the statement about "beings" performing
surgical operations on her children, was the only statement that in
retrospect could be classified as "psychotic". She was questioned a
number of times by the New Jersey State Police (around 1955) concerning
a hunting accident that looked like murder. During the same time I rode
to the lumber yard in Mt Kisco with my Father and found a note in his
raincoat. The note was in pencil torn from a small pad. It stated
simply: "Keep her mum or we will kill her". I do not know how many times
I looked up "mum" to check and recheck the meaning. I never confronted
my Father guessing, correctly I am sure, that I would not be told the
truth. My Mother was my Grandfather's secretary during the war. I
repeat: during. Not after. I remember being struck at Ike's insistence
that what was found at the camps be documented. He did not fully trust
his superiors. He thought that there might be a cover-up. This was more
than just "taking no chances". I leave the sequencing, Dear Lady - Kind
Sir, to you. Prior to this, after Stalin's death, during Dien Phen Phu
there was a time of marked tenseness. There were strange cars, there
were phone calls.
But I had no interest in politics as a child, preferred science, and
never thought to ask, as if referring to somebody responsible for
misplaced car keys, who the person was who "lost China", or who "Uncle
Joe" was who could "always be trusted". I just knew that somebody iost
China, and knew that there was some "Uncle Joe" someplace who could
always be trusted, and that these things- like the starting lineup for
the Dodgers- were all just part and parcel of the way things were.

The topic of war was ever present. I joined a rifle club. The patch was
a beaver shooting up at a parachute. The young would be trained to take
care of the commies. I knew also that war was too important to discuss
in public. The public must be lead. I knew that the death of "Uncle Joe"
made things difficult for "us" when the French were loosing Indochina at
Dien Phen Phu. I "knew" these things even though I never knew that
"Uncle Joe" was Joseph Stalin or that the main factor was the bomb or
that the "us" wasn't us at all.



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