This morning it was Alan

There is no order to it

The remembering

I never know who will be joining me for coffee

Or the minute, two or three while it brews

And I am standing at the counter collecting milk and cup and tablet

That’s when they visit me

Ghosts, most of them

Some more long gone than others

This morning it was Alan

And the particular way he held his hands when he sat at Tony’s eating Hay and Straw

I’ll make it tonight in his honor

And maybe tell his story over the meal

And extend his visit just a bit

I don’t think he would mind

Leveson Inquiry continues ...

The Leveson Inquiry has reconvened this week following the holiday break.

It is worth a watch to catch Mr. Jay in all his inquisitorial eloquence. Justice Leveson has, for the most part, allowed Mr. Jay to corner and confront the witnesses uninterrupted. Jay, brimming with righteous indignation in the face of Editors from various British papers, was nothing short of brilliant.

Thursday’s grilling of Mr. Peter Hill was particularly acute. When the testimony turned to the McCann case, I actually winced as Mr. Jay plowed through Mr. Hill’s defense of the indefensible.

http://www.levesoninquiry.org.uk

The Leveson Inquiry: Highly Relevant Reality TV

Part One: The players

Great Britain is known for its quality television and the drama currently running in London and presided over by Lord Justice Leveson is TV of the highest order for anyone with an interest in the current state of media in the UK. Public outrage over phone hacking by Murdoch-owned newspaper News of the World brought the inquiry into being but the inquiry is reaching far beyond that one issue, delving deep into the heart of the British press establishment.

The stakes are high – LJL must deliver a report to Parliament in late 2012 detailing what he has learned about the culture, ethics and practices of the Press, to include his examination of its relationship with politicians and the police. Further, his report will make recommendations for a new approach to press regulation, which will likely gut the current Press Complaints Commission. It’s serious, important, timely and juicy viewing and it all unfolds daily via live webcasts.

The cast of characters thus far has been impressive. The celebrities include Hugh Grant, Sienna Miller, J.K. Rowling and Charlotte Church; the victims include the Dowler and McCann families, Max Mosely, Mary-Ellen Field, Chris Jeffries, Margaret Watson and Garry Flitcroft. Private investigator Derek Webb, journalist Nick Davies, scholars, lawyers, newspaper editors and reporters - undercover and otherwise - round out the cast and more are to come.

The lawyers. The attorneys representing the newspapers are there, cast in the role of surrogate villains. Mr. Kaplan (who often looks like a deer caught in the headlights) and Mr. Davies (whose toothy smile is so off-putting one expects LJL to make a ruling from the bench that Mr. Davies may only ask questions sans smile) are the key players for the defense. The lawyer representing many of the victims, Mr. Sherborne, relishes his moments in the glare with a bit too much enthusiasm. He could also use a wardrobe intervention.

The counsel to the Inquiry are as different from one another as night and day. Lead counsel is Mr. Jay – serious, experienced, reserved (most of the time) and able. Mr. Jay often sprawls over his podium, face down in his notes, twisting his neck to one side and raising his head just enough to squeeze out his questions. When he gets wound up, which he does with certain of the witnesses, his questioning is brilliant and piercing and can leave a witness desperate for relief. I wouldn’t want to meet Mr. Jay in the witness box when he was riled. Now and then, however, just when Mr. Jay is closing in for the kill, the witness squirming, counsel for the newspapers poised to raise some sort of objection to prevent an incriminating utterance, LJL will interrupt Mr. Jay with a redundant question or clarification. It is maddening to witness and one can only imagine what Mr. Jay might wish to say were he not constrained by the protocols of the courtroom.

Mr. Barr is a wholesome-looking young attorney, junior to Mr. Jay, but capable of delivering a solid, focused interrogation. He is, however, regrettably burdened with a distracting habit of inserting “uh” between nearly every other word. He appears an able lawyer, but his questioning of the witnesses can be a bit nerve-wracking to watch.

Ms. Patry Hoskins, of “the woman on the left” twitter fame, is the ingénue among the key lawyers. She is a comely young woman with a soft Scottish brogue whose questioning can sometimes sound apologetic. Last week, she faced Derek Webb, a former police officer turned private investigator.

If there ever was a beauty and the beast moment in the Inquiry, this was it. Ms. Patry Hoskins ever so gently lobbed the questions in to the beefy, weathered, former cop who not only answered her but often had to be stopped from going too far and incriminating others. Ms. Patry Hoskins was soft-spoken, hesitant at times, unfailingly polite but devastatingly probative in her interrogation. It was good television.

The man at the center of the action is Lord Justice Leveson. He appears an unassuming man cast in a role at the center of one of the largest public media scandals of our time. He comes across as confident and in control of the proceedings, clear-headed in purpose and just a touch puckish. That’s the quality that makes him an interesting character to observe. Although he often sits with his brow furrowed, contemplating the oral evidence or perusing a text, now and then there is a brightening glint in his eyes as he gently corrects an attorney who has gone off on a tangent or asks a question from the bench of a witness whose testimony seems to him incredulous or surprising. It is that quality of demonstrating genuine curiosity that makes him an endearing character in this drama. He is the Lord Justice and seems to relish his role as such, but he never lords over the proceedings, rather choosing to guide it, nudge it here and there, while keeping its focus clear and its direction steady. The questions he poses from the bench can be a touch discordant with those of his inquiring counsel (as noted above with respect to Mr. Jay) but these interjections are few and the overall impression one takes away is of a judge who is in his element, a man well-suited to the task and enjoying every minute of it.

http://www.levesoninquiry.org.uk

At Dusk in a Park nearby

It was nearly dusk and the dark-suited businessman was busy with a phone call. He was on his way somewhere important it seemed, briefcase swinging from his free hand, the other pressing the phone to his ear. He was walking through a park near the center of town.

HH and a group of friends were playing soccer nearby, shooting wildly at the goal, the improvised boundaries of which were rapidly disappearing in the waning light. Another kick went wide and the ball sailed off through the trees and leaves marking a path that would inevitably intersect with the businessman’s.

He didn’t acknowledge the ball. I didn’t think he even saw it, so wrapped up in his conversation as he was. But as the ball closed in, he turned to face the boys and swung his leg, the side of his foot connecting solidly with the ball and sending it, and with it himself, cleanly back into play.

Setting it right

It’s an older tale than I can tell

As far back as winter

And knowing it will come

I’ve just spent another day in the sun

Burning my shoulders

And wrecking my hands

That will carry the scars and scales I’ve made today

Through the first winds of late September

It’s a race of faith

But a scanty faith it is

As solid as memory

Taking note

The changes come less frequently now, settled, more or less, as we are in this place.

The urge to take note of differences between what I had known and what I am seeing for the first time, the observations that sparked me to take to the page a year or two ago or more are less urgent. It is a still remarkable however, and rarely a day goes by when I don’t pause my thoughts to take it in, the little things, the pace of life I have not yet begun to take for granted and may never, given as I am to expecting change.

Yesterday, as I hurried through the morning catching up on errands, there was a short stretch of such recognition. A barrier separates the small paved path in front of our building, a path that runs the length of the park outside our windows. This barrier forces you to alter your course, weave through it, slow down, turn and straighten again before continuing on. And I thought to myself, ‘here I am navigating my wobbly Dutch bike through this ancient German city on a cool summer morning.’ I never would have imagined it as a young man growing up in America.

Not that it’s such a foreign place; Europe isn’t so different from other places I have known. It isn’t China or Borneo or Tierra del Fuego but it is just different enough to strike me now and then with wonder and appreciation.

HH is growing, fast and in every imaginable way. Two shoe sizes since his last pair of trainers, language, emotions and understanding just about keeping pace with his physical changes. He realizes he is a person with roots in two countries, two continents, and two traditions. Soccer and baseball compete with each other for his imagination. He wants to invite Derek Jeter and Bastian Schweinsteiger and to his birthday party. I had told him he could invite anyone he wished but I was a bit surprised when these two names appeared on the list. I tried to break it to him gently that these fellows had pretty demanding schedules and weren’t likely to show up. I think he knew that going in.

Summer is upon us and soon we will be back in the USA for a spell. As much as I love this place, I am looking forward to the sounds and smells (the grill will be the first thing out of the storage shed) of home. Home – but that’s the subject for another day. HH is stirring.