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In the civil fraud case brought by the state of New York — as opposed to the criminal fraud case that began Monday, April 22, in Lower Manhattan — former President Donald J. Trump complained that he was denied a trial by jury, even though his lawyers failed to ask for a jury trial.
Now Trump has his jury — seven men and five women of various races, ethnicities and professional backgrounds — and he, of course, is still not happy. It’s understandable. He’s forced to sit quietly — well perhaps not so quietly outside the courtroom and on Truth Social — listening to people say unpleasant things about him when he could be out on the campaign trail saying unpleasant things about others. (It’s the saying of unpleasant things in violation of his latest gag order that could net Trump fines or worse.) Life is not fair, he thinks. But then, how fare is it to jurors and the hush-money trial jurors in particular?
When I think of O.J. Simpson, who died Wednesday, April 10 of prostate cancer at age 76 in Las Vegas, I think of the short story '“Appointment in Samarra,” often retold in novels. The protagonist encounters the figure of Death, and to elude the dreaded specter, runs off to Samarra, only to find Death waiting there at the place where they were destined to meet. You cannot escape fate — or the consequences of your actions, no matter what else you do in life. Such is the Hindu and Buddhist principle of karma.
Many years ago when I was strictly a cultural writer, I went to Dia Beacon with the beloved aunt who raised me to cover an exhibit. Taking her on these outings was one of the great joys in my life, and as she drove, I gazed out of the window contentedly until I observed a somewhat disconcerting sight.
As we passed over a bridge under repair, two workers in hard hats with clipboards looked at one another and shook their heads. Put it this way: If the bridge were a patient and the workers doctors, the prognosis would not have been good. Suffice it to say, I was relieved that we got over it as quickly as possible.
I’ve always felt like that about bridges even though I adore their beauty. For all their steel and concrete, they are like buildings, both monuments to man’s might and fragile creatures. We know their delicacy in tragedy.
Catherine, Princess of Wales’ video announcement of her cancer has brought me to another famous and famously private figure diagnosed in his case with an incurable illness also in the prime of life. New York Yankees’ first baseman Lou Gehrig was 36 when he was diagnosed in 1939 with amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS), the disease that would bear his name. Then as now there were speculations and misinformation, and a private person had to make his pain public. Now as then we are confronted with what it means to be “lucky,” as Gehrig described himself.
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The year is still young but already the Mother’s Day photograph of Catherine, Princess of Wales and her three children — Princes George and Louis and Princess Charlotte — taken by her husband, Prince William, has become one of the photographs of the year.
The photo caused a sensation for being killed by the Associated Press (AP), Getty Images and Reuters, which regularly supply photographs to news organizations around the world, because it was doctored. Catherine apologized for the clumsy Photoshopping, but that was just the beginning of the firestorm in the media about how the PR debacle came to be.
News that tennis star Andy Murray plans to retire this summer after the Paris Olympics and that Senate Minority Leader Mitch McConnell plans to become a backbencher has brought me back to a very bad summer day two years ago and thoughts of what it really means to let go of a a career — and your ego.