American ‘agita’

Here we go, dear subscribers. Time for another wildly disjointed post from your favorite slogger. I can’t help it, but it’s my blog, and I’ll float in a babbling brook of shallow stream of consciousness if I want to. Or, as one writer friend commented, “It reminds me of my journal entries lately.” It’s not that I haven’t tried to come up with something pointed and straightforward. Honestly, I have, but to no avail. There’s just too much chaos to consume. Every. Single. Day. I find it all hard to digest, and instead come down with yet another case of agita, as my Italian grandmother used to say. Sound it out: “Ah-jee-tah.” It’s a noun meaning indigestion caused by overeating or anxiety caused by aggravation. Or both.

Maybe I’ll get some Brioschi next time I’m out shopping.

Never heard of it? Might want to buy stock, my fellow Americans. It’s the epitome of elixirs.

Whenever my dear Nonna suffered from an upset tummy (“mal di pancia”), she would drink Brioschi dissolved in a glass of water for relief. Say it with me: “Bree-os-kee.” The original, lemony sodium bicarbonate effervescent in the familiar blue bottle that was housed in every Italian grandparent’s medicine cabinet next to the giant jar of Pond’s face cream. Brioschi eases heartburn, indigestion and upset stomachs. Think of it as the Italian Alka-Seltzer.

It’s still around today. The same pleasant tasting, all-natural (aspirin-free!) antacid formula that was imported from Italy for 100-plus years and named after Achille Antonio Brioschi, a chemist who not surprisingly also made cologne. It’s $15 online (WTH?!) and available in some U.S. specialty stores and Italian markets that sell tripe. From what I can tell, the company went bankrupt in 2013, and now Canada produces it.

Seems Brioschi is one thing all Italians – whether from the north, like my mother, or the south, as in Sicily – can still agree on. Just don’t compare their sauce to gravy. And vice versa.

What follows are three random topics that popped into my head as I was sitting here all afternoon trying to think of something relevant to write about:

Friends: My mother used to say if you had five real friends you could count on, you were lucky and that you’ve had a great life. Or maybe it was my Uncle Jake the Snake. More likely. Can’t remember. But somebody said it because it still resonates with me today.

There’s also a similar theory motivational speakers like to throw around: “You are the average of the five people you spend the most time with.” It relates to the law of averages, which can apply to anything and isn’t really all that scientific.

I’m not certain the five-people theory is accurate, but it sure is compelling and somewhat provocative. (I can see your little minds counting friends like sheep right about now.)

Anyway, if I always hung out with the same five human beings, where would I be? Probably on one of their patios having cocktails and lively conversation. Not such a bad thing, is it?

Summer: It’s June again. As the school year ends, I can already sense the anxiety and nervousness from parents and kids alike. Why? Because their currently overscheduled child is going to be home 24/7 for three long months, give or take. No bus, no schedule, no set daily routine. For some, no constant running here, there and everywhere on any day that ends in “y.”

It’s no wonder parents are panicked. So-called summer break isn’t much of a break for anyone or much fun at all when both parents work. The cost of child care becomes yet another expense even with no school in session.

But I have a solution, dear parents: Let your overscheduled child be bored. It will be good for them. And for you as a parent, too. I know what you’re thinking: How can this woman possibly suggest such a thing when she doesn’t even have children (that she knows of) and understand your plight?

True. I don’t. But I was a kid once, and when school was out, it was really out. Not a misnomer as it is these days. Get ready for the “when I was a kid” paragraph:

At our modest Glenfield colonial on Detroit’s East Side, I got up early, ate a bowl of sugary cereal covered in whole milk and played outside till it was dark. At noon, Mom and I had lunch seated at our kitchen table, or she’d let me go over to Mrs. Grobar’s house down the street because Georgie’s mother made the best PB&J sandwiches on the planet. And we ran (never dawdled!) home when all of the neighborhood moms yelled “SUPPER’S READY!” out the side door to their respective offspring.

Life was good. It was summertime. Time to relax and enjoy freedom. Whatever happened to being bored? Or simply “playing”?

If I were a parent, I’d want my child to experience boredom, not only because it’s free, but also because it teaches them valuable life skills. Such as how to relax, entertain yourself and relish time without the need to fill every nanosecond of it. But what do I know?

Shakespeare: The other night, we finally watched “Good Night, and Good Luck,” the Broadway play that CNN generously allowed regular folks like us to see without having to shell out a house payment for a ticket. They aired a one-time, special “live” broadcast on June 7, the night before the play’s final performance at NYC’s Winter Garden Theatre.

Rebecca and I loved it, and not just because it starred our (mutual) “hetero-hall pass” George Clooney in his Broadway debut as iconic journalist Edward R. Murrow. The play was a stage adaptation of the 2005 film, where Clooney played a different character, Fred W. Friendly, then-CBS president.

Co-written by Clooney and Grant Heslov, the historical drama focuses on Murrow’s clash with Republican Sen. Joseph McCarthy, “the junior senator from Wisconsin,” as he’s dubbed. Truth, journalistic integrity, and the fight against fear and disinformation during the McCarthy era are prominent themes.

McCarthyism, as it was known in the late 1940s and 1950s, was a period of intense anti-communism and political persecution in the United States. “Un-American Activities,” they were called, fueled by widespread fear, accusations and blacklisting of those suspected of communist or left-leaning ties.

Many of those targeted were prominent entertainers, labor union activists and university academics. Heck, McCarthy even investigated the U.S. Army, which led to his censure by Senate colleagues in 1954.

Remember the famous quote from the Army’s special counsel, Joseph N. Welch, that was a major blow to McCarthyism: “Have you no sense of decency, sir, at long last?”

I cannot help but think how closely this story relates to what’s happening in America now. The stage play was stirring and one of the most necessary things I’ve seen on television in years, if ever. Perfect timing.

Don’t think the intimidation of journalists and the media coupled with the demagogues of today hasn’t happened before. It has. And despite the decades that have passed since the McCarthy era, character, integrity and conscience still matter.

A line throughout the play struck me, even after the one-hour and 40-minute show ended. In William Shakespeare’s play “Julius Caesar” from 1599, there is a quote spoken by Cassius, a Roman senator who instigates the plot to assassinate Caesar. The quote is often associated with Brutus, his brother-in-law, who decides to murder Caesar, a consummate demagogue who wants to be king of the Romans.

Here’s the Cassius quote: “The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves.”

Before it ends, the play features a montage of projected images depicting the evolution of news coverage. There’s archival footage of the 9/11 destruction, the January 6 U.S. Capitol attack and other familiar, disturbing clips.

As a proud American, it was unnerving for me to watch these scenes in one continuous loop. Turns out, individual responsibility is tied to your fate. You think we would have learned that in the last 250 years.

As Clooney’s Murrow concludes with a powerful speech reminding the public of TV’s potential to educate and hold power accountable, he quotes Shakespeare again before the lights dim: “In the end, Cassius was right. The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves. Good night, and good luck.”

Count your friends as blessings, embrace summer boredom, and be the master of your own fate.

(YouTube video: From the soundtrack album of the 2005 “Good Night, and Good Luck” film, here’s Grammy-winning jazz singer and native Detroiter Dianne Reeves singing “Straighten Up and Fly Right.” Written by Nat King Cole and Irving Mills in 1944, the song’s message is clear: “Don’t worry, and do what is right.”)