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Between You and Me

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Pixabay photo

By Leah S. Dunaief

Leah Dunaief

The idea that wars would cease if countries were economically tied tightly together seemed to make sense to the world’s leaders immediately following World War II. It sounded like a reasonable premise. After all, why would any nation attack its neighbor if its economy depended on trading with that neighbor, right? In past centuries, wars were started to gain land and the riches they yielded.

Before the Industrial Age, economies were agrarian and depended on land ownership. But by the middle of the 20th century, a huge variety of goods could be exchanged across borders cheaply, especially with advances in transportation. Countries could be locked together by mutual profit rather than by expensive and bloody wars.

For more than 70 years, this theory actually worked in practice. Europe was a prime example. The British had already stopped fighting the French, who stopped fighting the Germans, who stopped attacking Slavic countries, and so on. Instead, they did business together, more or less peacefully, vacationed in each others’ mountains and on each others’ beaches and even formed what they called a European Union. It is not like the United States in that its 27 members must act unanimously or be expelled, but despite infighting, countries want to be in it. Once in, nations can enjoy more cheaply the fruits of economic transactions and a certain amount of financial support. 

The Russians were the world’s third largest producer of oil. They got some $123 billion of their export revenue from supplying crude oil to the rest of the globe, plus refined petroleum-like petrol and diesel at $66.2 billion, gas at $26 billion and coal at $18 billion (2019 figures), especially to neighboring European countries, including Ukraine. Russia was the largest exporter of wheat, plus iron and nickel, nitrogen-based fertilizers and a wide variety of raw materials.

If at war, Ukraine would halt its trade with Russia, which could affect Russia’s economy. So why would Russia start a war with its Ukrainian neighbor? It doesn’t make economic sense. There goes the theory that countries who trade together play nicely together. In fact, it is as if a bully in the schoolyard has begun beating up a smaller child who is supplying him with candy.

President Putin says he fears the encroachment of NATO and must have a buffer between Russia and the other members of the North Atlantic Treaty Organization that was organized expressly to defend against a possibly aggressive Russia. Churchill always considered Russia the biggest threat. Ukraine is not a member of NATO, nor of the European Union. Putin further says more that makes no sense about denazifying Ukraine.

One thing seems to be obvious. Putin is not trying to grab Ukraine for its GDP. His army is pursuing a scorched earth attack, destroying apartment buildings, hospitals, industrial plants and whole cities, as it tries to establish a land bridge between the Donbas in eastern Ukraine and Crimea, which Russia annexed in 2014. This would afford Russia uninterrupted access to the Black Sea, a goal of landlocked czars for centuries. But what he is really after is power.

Perhaps, Putin thought that his trade ties with other countries would keep them from interfering in his “special military operation” in Ukraine. No military riposte materialized after he grabbed Crimea. Perhaps he hoped his actions would serve to divide NATO members in their response to him. In fact, only Viktor Orban, the Prime Minister of Hungary, has refused to condemn Putin, straining what has been a Warsaw-Budapest alliance within NATO. On the opposite side of the spectrum, German Chancellor, Olaf Scholz, said that no one could assume Russia would not attack other countries given its violation of international law in Ukraine, and that he would support Finland and Sweden if they decided to join NATO. Scholz made his comments despite Germany’s dependence on Russia for most of its import of gas.

So much for the hope that economic ties peacefully bind.

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Central Park. Pixabay photo

By Leah S. Dunaief

Leah Dunaief

A man I never met had a profound effect on my early life. Indeed, I could not have met him since his 200th birthday was this past Tuesday.

There are millions of others whose lives he has touched and continue to touch all over the country. His name is Frederick Law Olmsted, and along with a colleague, Calvert Vaux, he designed Central Park in the late 1850s. He went on to design many other parks and public spaces, but Central Park was his first. 

Olmsted was more than a landscape architect, and his philosophy and appreciation of community and human nature were built into his designs. Proving that I am not the only one who feels his importance, I was pleased to notice a special section about Olmsted published in Tuesday’s New York Times. All subsequent quotes are from that section, written by Audra D.S. Burch, with sayings from essays of Frederick Law Olmsted.

“In plots of earth and green, Olmsted saw something more: freedom, human connection, public health…Olmsted’s vision is as essential today as it was more than a century ago. His parks helped sustain Americans’ mental and physical health and social connections during the darkest days of the pandemic. As COVID-19 lockdowns unlaced nearly every familiar aspect of life, parks were reaffirmed as respite, an escape from quarantine.”

Alice in Wonderland statue in Central Park. Pixabay photo

And this from Olmsted: “The park should, as far as possible, complement the town. Openness is the one thing you cannot get in buildings… The enjoyment of scenery employs the mind without fatigue and yet exercises it, tranquilizes it and yet enlivens it; and thus through the influence of the mind over the body, gives the effect of refreshing rest and reinvigoration to the whole system… We want a ground to which people may easily go after their day’s work is done, and where they may stroll for an hour, seeing, hearing, and feeling nothing of the bustle and jar of the streets, where they shall, in effect, find the city put far away from them.” 

When people ask me where I grew up, I answer, “New York City,” but I should answer “Central Park.” 

Almost every Sunday without inclement weather, my dad would take us to the park for the day, giving my mom time for herself. It worked out splendidly for him because he grew up on a farm and never liked the urban surroundings in which we lived. It also gave him some uninterrupted time with us since we didn’t see much of him during the work week. And of course it was welcomed by my mother, who then had a chance to sleep in and tend to her own needs. 

Dad would awaken early, make us a creative breakfast that always involved eggs and braised onions plus whatever other ingredients happened to be in the fridge. Never were two Sunday breakfasts the same. Then we would go off, my younger sister and I with him, to “The Park.” 

There were many different destinations once we left the street and stepped into the greenery. We roamed along countless paved paths, over charming bridges and through tunnels (always yodeling for the echo effect), climbed rocks, crossed meadows, watched baseball games on several ballfields, played “21” on the basketball courts (if we had remembered to bring a basketball), watched older men competitively play quoits (pitching horseshoes) and munched on crackerjacks — my dad limiting the three of us to one box. I usually got the prize since my sister wasn’t interested. 

On beautiful days, when longer walks beckoned, we would visit the merry-go-round and ride until we were dizzy. Or we would spend the afternoon at the small zoo. My dad taught me to row on the Central Park lake. And always the air was fresh, the seasons would debut around us, the birds would sing and the squirrels would play tag through the trees.

By pre-arrangement, my mom would appear with a pot of supper, some paper plates, forks and a blanket, and we would eat in a copse or a thicket of brush. Then, as the sun was setting, we would walk home together.

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METRO photo

By Leah S. Dunaief

Leah Dunaief

One of the first things we noticed when we moved from the Bronx to Wichita Falls Texas, where my husband reported for duty on the Air Force base in July 1967, was that the city had no delis. Really, no delis. “Where can we find a deli?” we asked people. “What’s a deli?” was the response.

It was then that we learned that a deli, short for delicatessen, was indigenous to large urban settings generally found on the coasts, that made fresh sandwiches and sold side salads from their display cases and bottled sodas from their glass-front, vertical refrigerators. We explained that they were mighty convenient for a quick take-out lunch. Sometimes a few people ate at the handful of tables, but mostly it was an in-and-out experience and one hoped the line would not be too long. “We have diners,” they offered helpfully. “You could probably take out an order from one of them.”

How to describe the difference between a diner and a deli? I had never thought about delis before. I just knew there was one every couple of blocks in New York. Some of them were quite elegant, with imported products, cured meats and cheeses, and even exotic foods, while others, in the neighborhoods, just sold the usual turkey, bologna or ham and Swiss on a roll or white bread.

Ah, but then there were the kosher delis, the ones with overstuffed pastrami on rye and spicy mustard, with a pickle and a soda, maybe even a potato knish on the side. That’s the classic New York deli sandwich. They were the best, and there were fewer of those but enough to feed the discriminating in all five boroughs. Often kosher delis were part of a restaurant in which diners could sit at tables and be served by wise-cracking waiters. Patrons might slurp up chicken soup before they attacked their fulsome sandwiches.

In fact, there were 1500 kosher delicatessens in New York City in the 1930s, brought here primarily by German-Jewish immigrants in the late 19th century. There were fewer than 15 as of 2015, and I’ll bet there are only a handful today. This is how they started, or so the story goes.

A Lithuanian named Sussman Volk, who arrived in New York in 1880, owned a butcher shop on the lower East Side. He befriended another immigrant, from Romania, and allowed the fellow to store his meat in the shop’s large icebox. To thank him, the friend gave Volk a recipe for pastrami, which then proved so popular with Volk’s customers that he opened a restaurant at 88 Delancey Street and served the meat on rye. The creation was soon repeated in delis and became the city’s iconic sandwich.

Delicatessens originated in Germany during the 18th century, started by a German food company called Dellmayr in 1700 that still exists, and spread to the United States in mid-19th century. They catered to the German immigrants, offering smoked meats, sausages, pickled vegetables, dips, breads and olives. Just in case you are on “Jeopardy!”, the root of the word comes from the Latin, “delicatus,” meaning giving pleasure, delightful, pleasing. After WWII, from about 1948 on, they were simply referred to as “delis.”

Today, even supermarkets have deli sections. There are two delis within walking distance in my village and more up and down the neighboring villages. And they exist in many countries with slight variations on the theme. Australia, Canada, Europe (Milan, Paris, Vienna, London, Munich, Zurich), Ireland, they all have delis. They are different from Subway or Jersey Mike’s, or Wawa, which, too, make sandwiches to order. They are also different from McDonald’s or Wendy’s, who specialize in fast food. Some of them have hot prepared foods as well, and all of them require interaction with a clerk behind the counter as opposed to a more digital ordering process. Those clerks may whip up an egg on a roll with bacon and cheese if you ask. Some delis even have small groceries attached to them.

Delis are generally unpretentious eateries that welcome you. For my lunch tastes, you can’t spell delicious without “deli.”

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TBR News Media

By Leah S. Dunaief

Leah Dunaief

Another year has rolled by and we again marvel at another anniversary this week of the news group now known as TBR News Media. It started with the lowly Village Times 46 years ago, and actually there was nothing lowly about that first issue. It was 52 pages, mailed to every house in Setauket, Stony Brook and Old Field, and carried some pretty interesting news and graphics.

I guess the biggest news in the April 8th issue, although we didn’t say so, was that there was a second newspaper in town, coming out every Thursday, a day later than the first newspaper, The Three Village Herald. We planned it that way so we could carry most of the week’s news that same week. For example, school board meetings, one of our most important beats, ended late on Tuesday nights and often their agenda didn’t make the other paper until the following week, there being no internet or website in those days, of course. But by coming out on Thursday, while we could report the school news, we couldn’t capture the local supermarket specials, a rich, full page or even two sometimes, because those ads traditionally ran on Wednesday “to give the lady of the house a chance to plan her weekly shopping for the family’s weekends.” Yes, I am quoting the supermarket managers.

This might not strike you as being a particularly significant decision for the newspaper, but it was symbolic of how we viewed our product: news first, advertising second. If we could get the readers, we strategized, the advertising would follow. And history proves us right. We were always something of an upstart. In the beginning, we stopped mailing to every house after the first couple of issues and gave the paper away from news racks in the local stores. Ten months in, we put coin tubes on our newsstands and started to charge a dime, the same as our competition. I can’t tell you, in powerful enough words, how satisfying it was that first day when the dimes rolled out of the tubes and into our palms. Residents were willing to pay, even if only 10 cents, for our efforts.

A couple of years later, we raised the newsstand price to 25 cents, then the industry standard. We were asking a pretty brash question: Were we 21/2 times better than our competition? Yes, there was some tongue clucking about “who did we think we were!” To our relief, our readership grew. Readers put quarters in our tubes and gratification in our hearts. We vowed to work even harder.

What is a community newspaper, really?

We asked ourselves that as we read every other hometown paper we could get our hands on in order to better answer that question. Joining the New York Press Association, which we did two years after we started, helped us network with other publishers across the state for pointers.

We knew that we wanted to be non-partisan, meaning that we would be without party affiliation and completely independent. It was vital that village government news and town board news reach our readers. We particularly favored bragging about our young people, their academic, musical and sports accomplishments. And we created a second section in the paper for cultural events, science and medicine, giving space to local artists and columnists.

We were eager to hear what our readers had to say and made sure we had clearly marked opinion pages for that purpose. Our opinions were there, too. And we thought of the paper as a mirror that was held up to reflect the community we served, providing future historians with the chronology and sentiments of the day.

Most especially, we believed in fairness. And facts. In a controversial situation, we wanted all sides to be heard and heard accurately. We left it to our readers to judge. They were intelligent beings and we never dumbed down the stories for them. Further, we saw as part of our job to protect our communities and their natural beauty from those who would cause harm. Come to think of it, in our six papers, on our website and our social media platforms, that’s about what we still do.

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Pixabay photo

By Leah S. Dunaief

Leah Dunaief

Unless you are a conspiracy theorist and view “the slap heard around the world” as a publicity stunt cooked up by Will Smith and Chris Rock, the episode at the Academy Awards Sunday night left you first puzzled, then shocked. After we caught on, there then ensued an outpouring of opinion and punditry about the incident. But there seems little consideration about how Mrs. Smith might have felt about the matter, or how societal values have dramatically shifted.

Mrs. Smith, otherwise known as the actress and producer Jada Pinkett Smith, is a force of her own. An award winner and named by Time magazine as one of the 100 most influential people in the world in 2021, does she need defending by her husband? Although it was only a quick shot on the camera, she seemed to grimace at Rock’s joke about her baldness. And indeed, alopecia is a serious and anguishing condition that usually occurs when the immune system destroys the hair follicles and causes hair loss that can last for months or years. She had revealed the diagnosis, sharing a video on her Instagram showing herself with a shaved head, in 2018.

Back in the day, my day, women expected the men in their lives to defend them physically. That was the rationale for men walking on the outside of the sidewalk if a man and woman strolled down a street. The man would be there to protect the woman from any danger or even any mud splash that might come from the road. It was part of the definition of manhood that the male was there to protect the female. Is that an expectation today? Do men still take the curb position during any sidewalk stroll? In truth, I haven’t noticed. I haven’t even thought about it. The idea goes with men opening doors or pulling out chairs for women. I suppose it still happens, and it’s thoughtful if it does, but it doesn’t seem like de rigueur today.

This is a significant societal change. I remember an exchange I had in Cambridge, Massachusetts, with a graduate student who was a friend at the time. As we were passing an ice cream parlor, he suggested we go in for cones. I readily agreed and stood in front of the door, waiting for him to open it. How surprised I was when he asked, “Why do I have to open the door for you? Is anything wrong with your arm?” He was clearly ahead of his time, believing as he did in equality of the sexes, and I was glad he wasn’t my boyfriend.

It is my sense today that whoever is in front opens a door. Is that correct or am I just an aggressive woman?

Later, when Will Smith won the award for best actor as the father of tennis stars Venus and Serena Williams in the movie “King Richard,” he made the first of his apologies, explaining that he had acted because he had become emotional. Hey, again, back in my day, men were not allowed to show any emotion, unless they were wimps. Macho meant the strong, silent type. Men who cried were certainly not poster models for unfiltered cigarettes or Marines. If a man cried, there was probably something wrong with him.

Today, men are praised when they offer their “soft” side. Men are allowed to have feelings and to show them. Even the President of the United States, any one of them, has been seen wiping away a tear. For men, feelings can even be a license for strange behavior, which is how Smith explained his behavior. Never mind that he could have stood up and walked out or even turned his back on the comedian. His feelings freed him to be violent, and in front of 15 million people no less.

I wonder what his wife said to him when they got home.

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METRO photo

By Leah S. Dunaief

Leah Dunaief

Since the news lately has been so grim, I want us to share something of a lighter tone. Have you ever thought about your earliest memories? How far back can you go? Do you remember what your parents looked like when they were younger? Do you recall outings they took you on and how that worked out? What spotlight can you shine back on the farthest points in your life?

The first that comes to my mind is the fun I had sledding in Central Park one day with my dad. The hill at 84th Street and Fifth Avenue looks pretty modest to me now, but then I thought it was alpine. The weather must have been very cold because my dad, who was almost never cold, was wearing his rough woolen grey overcoat. We had a Frequent Flyer long red sled that he carried easily to the park by holding onto one of the runners. He then pulled it over the snow behind us by a rope attached to the handles as we trudged upward.

When we reached the top, he lay down on the sled, his legs dangling over the back, and I climbed on top of him, holding onto his collar with all my strength as he pushed off and we flew at incredible speed down the frozen snow. I can still feel the pellets of ice thrown up by the runners stinging my cheeks and the wind howling alongside as my dad steered among the other children and parents who had also come out to enjoy the white miracle of snow in the city. When we got to the bottom and slowly came to a halt, we laughed triumphantly and tumbled off the sled to go back up and do it all over again.

Later that afternoon, on the way home, my dad motioned for me to get on the sled so that he could pull me the several blocks until we returned to our apartment. Except for narrow shoveled pathways, the streets were hard-packed with snow. I remember telling him that I was too heavy and being puzzled by his laugh. Then his expression turned sober as he assured me that I truly wasn’t too heavy. I did get on and rode home. 

I remember my mother teaching me to read. I could recognize the letters from the Alphabet Song she had taught me, but I had been pestering her for more. My dad read newspapers, my mother read reports from work, and I wanted to read, too. So she sat down with me on the side of my bed and explained that just like the Alphabet Song that we sang, if I could put the sounds of the letters together, they spelled out a word. Then she opened a book, and prompted me to sound out each letter of the word she was pointing to. As I did that, I suddenly yelled out the word and understood. It was an epiphany for me. I could read the word. Any word. All the words. I began trying to read everything in sight, again pestering my mother when the sounds didn’t make sense. And to this day, reading is one of the greatest pleasures of my life.

The last early memory I will share with you would probably embarrass my mother if she were here with us. But she isn’t, and I will tell. My brother was almost 14 years older, and there was no one in between. I heard my mother asked more than once by lady friends how it was that after all that time, I arrived. She would reply, “Leah was an accident.”

I thought about that for a while, tried to understand, then finally came up with a satisfactory explanation. It went something like this. One day my mother was crossing Second Avenue, a heavily trafficked road I was familiar with, and was hit by a truck. And there I was.

Little did I know that I had invented binary fission, the means by which amoeba reproduce. After I checked that out with my mother, she never again uttered those words.

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Endurance. Wikipedia photo

By Leah S. Dunaief

Leah Dunaief

Like a hand reaching out from its watery grave, the stern of the ship with the name “Endurance” became visible in the underwater drone’s searching beacon of light. A century after the ice crushed and sank the vessel, along with the hopes of explorer Ernest Shackleton and his crew for being the first to walk across Antarctica from sea to sea via the South Pole, the biggest shipwreck discovery since the Titanic connected us with those men a century ago. For many of us, the find was thrilling.

The three-masted ship is remarkably preserved in 10,000 feet of water below the surface ice, and from the photos, even the spokes on the wheel in the stern are hauntingly intact. Armed with the latest undersea equipment, marine archeologists, engineers and scientists, using the last data recorded when the ship sank, were able to find the wooden Endurance, survivor of one of the most heroic expeditions in history, at the bottom of the Wendell Sea near the Antarctica Peninsula. The Falklands Maritime Heritage Trust’s group Endurance 22 announced the news. The darkness and frigid temperatures had made such search efforts in the past impossibly difficult but also created an inhospitable environment for bacteria, mites and wood-eating worms that might have devoured the ship. Instead it stands at attention since 1915 on the sea floor.

After the ship sank, Shackleton and his crew of 28 loaded food and anything else they could into three lifeboats and set up camp on ice floes, and when those disintegrated, camped on Elephant Island. 

The Endurance. Photo from Wikipedia

Recognizing that they had somehow to get help if they were to survive, Shackleton, his captain, Frank Worsley and four other carefully selected men sailed across 800 miles of treacherous waters in a 22-foot boat to the nearest place of habitation, a remote whaling community on the island of South Georgia. Once they arrived, they had to scale steep mountains to get to the station on the other side. Shackleton’s decisive and heroic leadership ultimately saved the entire crew and is studied in business schools and management programs to this day. His planning and improvisation made the escape possible.

Shackleton died in 1922. Curiously the wreck’s discovery happened exactly 100 years to the day that Shackleton was buried. And while Endurance was photographed and filmed, nothing was removed or disturbed, and it is protected as an historic monument.

An Anglo-Irishman, Sir Ernest Shackleton was born in County Kildare, Ireland, and moved with his family to south London. His story seems a fitting way to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day. He led three different English expeditions to the Antarctic, walked to within 97 miles of the South Pole during the previous Nimrod expedition of 1907-09, and climbed Mt. Erebus, the most active Antarctic volcano. For those feats, he was knighted by King Edward VII on his return. Ultimately he led a final expedition in 1921 but died of a heart attack while his ship was moored in South Georgia. He is buried there. 

Despite the fact that he was largely unsuccessful in business ventures and died heavily in debt, Shackleton was voted eleventh in a BBC poll of the 100 Greatest Britons in 2002. He was to be the one others prayed to have lead them when under extreme circumstances.

The saga of Ernest Shackleton and the Endurance captured my imagination when I worked for Editor Alfred Lansing at Time Inc. I was 22 and had never met anyone quite like Al before. A volunteer in the Navy when he was 17 (he lied about his age and somehow got in), Al had a reddish-blond crew cut, bright blue eyes, a huge smile and a tattoo on his right forearm well before tattooes were a common occurrence. He smoked unfiltered Lucky Strikes, was one of the best storytellers I had ever met, and wrote adventure stories on the side for what were then called men’s magazines.

It was Alfred Lansing who wrote the book “Endurance: Shackleton’s Incredible Voyage” four years earlier which had received a National Book Award nomination. Listening to him tell the story, I was hooked for life on that adventure and the marvel of Shackleton’s leadership. Sadly, both men died at an early age.

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Pixabay photo

By Leah S. Dunaief

Leah Dunaief

The idea was that if European nations were interdependent for their economic welfare, then they would not make war on each other, but would rather work together for their greater good. And for more than 70 years, the concept held. Where wars were the way for nations, and before there were nations, for regions to enrich themselves by raiding their neighbors, stealing their treasures and claiming their land, now that was eschewed. Finally, there was to be peace.

England and France, France and Germany, Spain and England among others, all put their guns and their history away and did business with each other. This was the vision articulated by the United Nations after World War II ended, and it came to pass. The economists and philosophers were right. No one would make war on neighbors who were making them money. And for the most part, nations realized unprecedented wealth and the security that peace brings.  Economics was to be the field of battle, not the military. And with unrestricted trade, globalization took hold. War was a distant memory.

Until now. Incredible as it seemed to the rest of the world, Russia invaded the Ukraine less than two weeks ago with the aim of annexing that country. Such action, as Russian military surrounded Ukraine on three sides, would be an ill-conceived throwback to a more appalling and unwise time. Or so we thought.

As the Ukrainians defiantly rise to meet the invaders with military weapons, the rest of Europe and countries elsewhere in the world are responding with their weapon of choice: economics. It is a testament to the thinking and planning of those leaders seven decades ago. And so, with remarkable unity, the European Union is striving to blow up Russia’s economy rather than blowing up Russia’s cities. The pain for the Russian leaders and the Russian people is to be felt in their pocketbooks and not in their cemeteries. At least, that is the intent.

But of course, as in every war, it’s the civilians who most suffer and pay the price for their leaders’ actions. If they aren’t shot to death, they may be starved to death, as their money becomes worthless and their businesses are ruined. Still, the Russians will do better without Coca-Cola than the Ukrainians without water.

And that is another remarkable consequence of attempts to isolate Russia. Not only are governments withdrawing trade and financial dealings in this siege, but also international corporations are cutting ties with the invading country, even if the companies bear the price. McDonald’s, which employs some 62,000 workers in Russia, Starbucks and Apple have closed their stores, among numerous others. Americans have indicated overwhelmingly in a recent Quinnipiac University national poll (71%), that they will tolerate the increased price of gasoline if Russian imports of oil and gas are ended. The Biden administration has heard them and is closing off those imports. Of course, the prices at the pump were going up anyway due to considerable current inflation. Why not put the blame on the Russians!

So do shared economic interests prevent wars?

There should have been a corollary put into that concept: assuming all the governments are made up of reasonable persons. Much now is being made of President Vladimir Putin’s mental state because most of the rest of the world cannot understand why he is embracing this “special military operation.”

He did not even tell his lower rank soldiers that they were about to engage in a war. Who knows how the Russian leader thinks? Is he unreasonable or is this merely the opening salvo he, and perhaps his “friend,” Premier Xi Jinping of China, are plotting for a long game?

Of one thing the world can be certain. When autocrats are planning something that surely would be roundly condemned, one of the actions they take is to close down the media and crack down on free speech. Signing a new censorship law, Putin has now criminalized independent journalism for reporting “fake news.” 

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John Landy (right) with Roger Bannister in 2004. Photo from Wikipedia

By Leah S. Dunaief

Leah Dunaief

These are difficult times, but we’re not going there. As President Joe Biden pointed out in his State of the Union Wednesday night, the war in Ukraine, inflation, Covid and climate change are some of the troubles before us. Further, for Pete’s sake, the owners and the players of major league baseball are so far apart in their negotiations that we don’t even have an opening day. And it seems that potholes on local roads multiply overnight. Let’s talk about other things.

Have you ever heard of John Landy? I had, but not by name. Many of us know who Roger Bannister was. It was breathtaking news when he broke the four-minute mile at 3:59.4 as a runner on May 6, 1954. Until that day, humans were not expected to run that fast. Bannister always gave credit to the guy behind him, and in the subsequent race billed as the Mile of the Century, on August 7, it was John Landy.

Landy, an Australian academic, was also a runner. Graduating from Melbourne University that famous year with a degree in agricultural science, Landy and Bannister, an Englishman and medical student at Oxford at the time, ran against each other on Aug. 7 at the British Empire Games in Vancouver, British Columbia. It was to be the first time two men would better four minutes in the same race. Landy had previously run on June 21, in Turku, Finland, scoring 3:57.9. (The current record, by the way, is 3:43.13, held by Hicham El Guerrouj of Morocco.)  

They were the only two who had individually broken the four-minute mile record earlier that year, and their race generated huge excitement. Bannister finished first. Eight-tenths of one second separated the two. Bannister saluted Landy for offering the fierce competition that pushed him just a little bit harder to win. You might wonder how I know all this. Landy died last Thursday in Australia at the age of 91, and there was an appropriately in-depth obituary about him in Sunday’s The New York Times, so I attribute all this information to obit writers Frank Litsky and William McDonald.

“As expected, Landy led from the start, building a 15-yard lead. But Bannister … closed in on the last lap and Landy could sense him coming. Rounding the final turn, he peeked over his left shoulder to see where Bannister was. But Bannister was on his right, and as Landy’s head was turned, Bannister stormed by him, and won in 3:58.8. Landy came in second, in 3:59.6

“Only later was it learned that Landy had run the race with a wounded foot. By his account, he could not sleep the night before the race, so he got up and, barefoot, walked the streets — only to gash a foot on a photographer’s discarded flashbulb. He allowed a doctor to close the wound with four stitches, but only after the doctor swore that he would keep the incident quiet,” according to The NYT.

It was Dr. Roger Bannister, however, whose name “became synonymous with singular athletic achievement,” according to Wikipedia. He died in 2018, making Landy the winner in longevity.

A testament to Landy’s sportsmanship occurred in 1956 at the Australian track and field championships in Melbourne. (Bannister, by the way, retired from competitive running in 1954, to concentrate on medicine.) As Landy was running in the race, hoping to break the record again and participate in the coming Olympics there, a 19-yeaar-old competitor, Ron Clarke, was bumped and fell down ahead of him. When Landy leapt over his body, he inadvertently spiked his right shoulder. 

Landy stopped, ran back to Clarke, brushed cinders from Clarke’s knees and said, “Sorry.” “Keep going,” Clarke said. “I’m all right.” Clarke got up, and he and Landy started after the others, who by then were 60 yards ahead. Landy caught them and won in 4:04.2, according to The NYT.

Landy, in his own words, had “an extraordinarily interesting life.”  I hope you find his story uplifting in what is today a darker time.

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Pixabay photo

By Leah S. Dunaief

Leah Dunaief

In an attempt to make Ukraine more real for all of us, this country on the far side of Europe, I am including the information below that was taken from Wikipedia on the internet. I hope it helps us visualize what the situation is there. 

Ukraine is an important agricultural country and can meet the food needs of 600 million people.

• 1st in Europe in terms of arable land area;

• 3rd place in the world by the area of black soil (25% of world’s volume);

• 1st place in the world in exports of sunflower and sunflower oil;

• 2nd place in the world in barley production and 4th place in barley exports;

• 3rd largest producer and 4th largest exporter of corn in the world;

• 4th largest producer of potatoes in the world;

• 5th largest rye producer in the world;

• 5th place in the world in bee production (75,000 tons);

• 8th place in the world in wheat exports;

• 9th place in the world in the production of chicken eggs;

• 16th place in the world in cheese exports.

It is the second-largest country by area in Europe and has a population of over 40 million — more than Poland.

Ukraine ranks:

• 1st in Europe in proven recoverable reserves of uranium ores;

• 2nd place in Europe and 10th place in the world in terms of titanium ore reserves;

• 2nd place in the world in terms of explored reserves of manganese ores (2.3 billion tons, or 12% of the world’s reserves);

• 2nd largest iron ore reserves in the world (30 billion tons);

• 2nd place in Europe in terms of mercury ore reserves;

• 3rd place in Europe (13th place in the world) in shale gas reserves (22 trillion cubic meters)

• 4th in the world by the total value of natural resources;

• 7th place in the world in coal reserves (33.9 billion tons)

Ukraine is an important industrialized country and ranks

• 1st in Europe in ammonia production; Europe’s 2nd’s and the world’s 4th largest natural gas pipeline system;

• 3rd largest in Europe and 8th largest in the world in terms of installed capacity of nuclear power plants;

• 3rd in Europe and 11th in the world in terms of rail network length (21,700 km);

• 3rd in the world (after the U.S. and France) in production of locators and locating equipment;

• 3rd largest iron exporter in the world

• 4th largest exporter of turbines for nuclear power plants in the world;

• 4th largest manufacturer of rocket launchers, in clay exports and in titanium exports

• 8th in exports of ores and concentrates;

• 9th in exports of defense industry products;

• 10th largest steel producer in the world (32.4 million tons).

Ukraine matters.

These are some reasons why its independence is important to the rest of the world.

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