Author Archives: Peter Sanford Kahrmann

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About Peter Sanford Kahrmann

Writer, disability rights advocate, civil rights advocate.

CLINTON SHOULD GET OUT – NOW

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Okay, so which is it? Long hours of hard work, lack of sleep and stress caused Senator Hillary Clinton to lapse into some kind of neurological malaise or her need to win is so strong she will pretty much say anything?

Whatever the cause of her recent statements, Clinton has twice raised the specter of her opponent’s assassination as a reason for her to stay in the race. Some, including members of the media, like AP writer Devin Bartlett, point to fatigue and frustration as the possible cause of yesterday’s reference to Robert F. Kennedy’s assassination.

Bartlett writes, “Long hours, hard work, and scant hope of succeeding may be the cause of Hillary Clinton’s latest case of political tone-deafness.”

Well, here’s the deal. If the presence of fatigue, stress, and frustration skews her judgment this badly during a campaign, just imagine what the three amigos are going to do to her judgment if she gets into the White House. Then again, if your lack of a moral code allows you to sink so low as to raise the specter of your opponent’s assassination to further your political agenda, you shouldn’t be allowed in the oval office in the first place, not even with a guest pass.

Some say Senator Clinton apologized for her statements. No she didn’t. She said she regrets what she said and was simply pointing out historical fact. Yet she knows that likely millions of Americans are deeply upset and wounded by her comments, so where is the apology?

Lord knows, the behavior of the swift boaters against Senator John Kerry was despicable and so was President Bush’s treatment of Senator John McCain in South Carolina a few years ago. However, as low as the swift boaters and the Bush campaign (sorry for repeating myself) went, they never raised the possibility of their opponent’s assassination.

So which is it? Are Senator Clinton’s remarks driven by fatigue or political greed? I think we all know the answer. The solution, thankfully, is simple. Senator Clinton should put her country first and get out of the race – now.

AMERICA: A NATION AT RISK

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If Senator Barack Obama selects Senator Hillary Clinton for vice-president, his credibility as an agent of change dies on the spot. I believe most Americans are beginning to realize our democracy is at risk.

The bow of America’s ship must turn towards the democracy fought for by the founding fathers. America’s bow must turn towards a democracy that my grandfather fought for in World War I and my father fought for in World War II. With Clinton or McCain anywhere near the helm, this will not happen.

At this moment in our history, Senator Barack Obama is our country’s best and only hope in the presidential race. More than once I have listened to him and found myself daring to believe I may be witnessing greatness. The kind of greatness rooted in what America is supposed to be. The kind of greatness that is not rooted in any political party. If should not select Senator Clinton as his vice-presidential running mate. She has waged a campaign riddled with incidents of dishonesty and dishonor. Raise your hands if you’ve ever mistaken an eight-year-old girl reading poetry for sniper fire. She has twice raised the specter of Robert F. Kennedy’s assassinaton in June 1968 as a reason for her to stay in the race.

I believe Senator Obama may possess the depth of vision and capacity for change along with the ability to bring people together that this country, a country I love, so desperately needs and deserves. But, if he selects Senator Clinton for the VP post, I will stand corrected, heartbroken and nearly convinced that our days as a democracy are numbered. After all, George Bush and Dick Cheney are dictators in mind and, increasingly, in action.

Bush and Cheney have approved torture, tossed aside the legal system that served humanity perfectly well in prosecuting the Nazis. Have we all forgotten the 1945 Nuremberg trials?

Moreover, there are stains on the hands of many from both sides of the aisle for enabling the Bush and Cheney agenda.

If you think saying Bush and Cheney behave like dictators is a stretch, consider the following. They have approved torture, ignored the country’s constitution, knowingly sent young men and women to die based on falsehoods they helped design, rigged the system so their oil company buddies receive record profits, andirect their staff and the Department of Justice to ignore congressional supeonas. How are these actions any different from actions taken by past and present dictators?

The American people are sick to death of both the Republicans and the Democrats. Why? Because by and large the American people are Americans first, which is something they rightfully expect from there leaders. The American people are angry over the deep wounds Bush and Cheney have inflicted on all that is great about America. Bush and Cheney should ponder the words some have attributed to Japanese Admiral Isoroku Yamamoto after the attack on Pearl Harbor, “I fear all we have done is to awaken a sleeping giant and fill him with a terrible resolve.”

I hope and pray the ever increasing support for Senator Obama that comes from Americans of all political persuasions reflects a giant that is, thankfully, wide-awake.

MEMOIR EXCERPT: I REMEMBER

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Dear Reader,

From time to time in this blog, though not in awhile, I publish an excerpt from the memoir I am working on. I am closing in on the end of this task, a scary and emotional proposition. When writing the following piece, I found myself overwhelmed with emotion. In fact, when it got to the part where the young man is begging for his life, I had to get up and leave the writing table. I did not return until the next day. It is striking to me how one can have a memory, much like something on a shelf, and manage its presence with some semblance of composure, yet, when you write the memory, you take it down from the shelf and live it. And then there is little shelter. Anyway, thank for for taking the time to read this, and I hope your life and the life of your loved ones is going well.

Peter S. Kahrmann, April 7, 2008

_______________________

I remember.

It is 1981 and I am walking down Court Street in Brooklyn with Charlie, a friend of mine. We hear angry voices behind us yelling and screaming. We turn and see a young black man running his heart out down the center of Court Street. He is coming towards us and he is being chased by maybe 20 angry young white boys, mostly teenagers. The young black man who looks to be in his twenties runs past us. His face is lit wild with terror.

Voices scream, “Get that fucking nigger! Get that nigger!” I tell Charlie get to the other side of the street, lets stay with this.

We are running on either side of the angry crowd of young whites now, watching what happens. Some are carrying sticks, pieces of two-by-four. One carries a piece of rebar about the length of a baseball bat. I am hoping the young black man will get away.

He doesn’t.

They catch him and the angry young white with the rebar slams it across the back of the young black man. He crumbles to the ground. He trys to get up but another angry young white breaks a piece of wood across his back. The young black man wobbles upwards and is downed again when a bottle is smashed across his head. There is blood now. He is on the ground screaming. “Please God don’t kill me! Please God! Please God! I have a wife and children! Please God! Please God don’t let them kill me!”

I lock eyes with Charlie and motion for him to call the police. I move fast into the crowd, reaching the young black man through a barrage of kicks and pounches. There is a pause in the violence, a sudden quiet, the angry mob does not know what to make of me. I pull the young black man up into my arms and hold him against a parked car so it shields him on one side. I shield him on the other.

Some in the angry mob try to reach past me and punch him. When this happens, I push the young black man into a crouch so he is out of reach and aim hard words back at the crowd, now nothing more than a single rage-filled being: seething, pulsing, breathing as one, dripping with hate.

I say, “What the fuck are you doing? You really want to kill him? You want to go to jail for him?”

One reaches in again. I shove him back hard and our eyes meet. I know if this mob explodes into us I will have to damage or kill someone quickly. Suddenly a big Italian man joins me in protecting the young black man. He is older than all of us, huge and burly, powerful, no nonsense. His presence nearly stills the mob completely. Later I find out he is one of the powers in the neighborhood and deeply respected by all.

Police units arrive and take the bleeding terrified young man to the hospital. I thank the big Italian man. He says, “Hey, I hear him say he got a wife and kids. That’s all I gotta hear. The man’s got family.”

The police say they are taking the young black man to Long Island College Hospital. The police are from the 84th Precinct, the same precinct that will save my life and take me to the same hospital just three years later.

NYPD AND FDNY STARTING PAY IS A DISGRACE

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Maybe it is just me but I think if you agree to take a job exoects you to give up your life to protect mine, your starting pay should be more than $25,100 a year. In fact, it should be more than $36,400 a year. These are the starting annual salaries for the New York City Police Department and the New York City Fire Department, the NYPD being the lowest of the two.

Someone recently told me the starting salary for the NYPD was $25,100. I thought they were joking. “Are you kidding? That’s New York City, bro” I said. “You’re lucky if you can put food on the table for that kind of money.” He as not kidding. And so, I looked at the FDNY’s starting salary too. Yes, more than the NYPDs, but at $36,400, it is a disgrace.

Before I continue here, let me say that I am very biased. The NYPD’s 84th Precinct in Brooklyn saved my life in 1984 when I was held up and shot in the head at point blank range. It was just after five in the morning and a slew of police units were there in a flash. Some might say, So what? That’s there job. But no one with that mindset is thinking it through. These men and women raced to a scene where there was gunfire and one person wounded. They did not know me from Adam. They did not know what they were coming into. A gang fight? Was there still shooting? When they got to me, did they know if the shooter was nearby, and maybe crazy enough to shoot one of them? These are men and women with families. Some are parents, all are sons and daughters, all are human beings. And they raced to help me knowing damned well that where there is gunfire there is the chance of being killed. And there starting pay is $25,100! Are you kidding me? That is a base salary of $483 a week – before taxes. And for firefighters, the base salary is $700 a week – before taxes.

Now I know that there are those who will say, well, they get overtime and good benefits. Others will no doubt point to cases of police brutality and misconduct. My response to this is simple. Cops or firefights who break the law or engage in misconduct do so because of who they are as individuals – NOT because they are cops or firefighters. There is not a profession out there that does not have its fair share of fuck-ups. Have you taken a gander at Washington lately?

For anyone who disagrees with me and thinks I am wrong when I say the starting salaries should not be a penny less than $52,000 a year (Look, $1,000 a week for someone who has taken a job that asks them to give their life to protect yours and mine is not even in the same ballpark as overpaid) – I have a little exercise for you.

Sit back in your chair and relax for a moment. Take a deep breath, exhale slowly. Okay now. Close your eyes and remember the breathtaking courage displayed by so many firefighters and police officers on 9/11. Remember the images of firefighters going up the stairs while civilians were racing down the stairs to safety.

Now open your eyes and repeat the following sentence aloud. I think New York City Police officers should be paid a starting weekly salary of $483 and I think New York City firefighters should be paid a starting weekly salary of $700.

If you are not feeling sick inside right now, shame on you. If you are not feeling sick inside right now, you sure as hell do not have the strength of character displayed by the NYPD and FDNY on 9/11, and you sure as hell do not have the strength of character in the men and women from the 84th Precinct that saved my life. And if you are making $1,000 or more a week – you are probably overpaid.

THE GREATER FAILURE

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There are at least three people whose presence in my life is so precious and miraculous that I know any attempt on my part to tell you about them will fall short of its mark. It is impossible, at least for me, to set down in words how much I love them, how each of them is as vital to my being as my vital organs are to my body.

I can name them for you. My father, Sanford Kahrmann, was the greatest gift life has ever given me. Poppop, my mother’s father, Prescott Beach, had a Jimmy Stewart like warmth to him, and was, like my father, one of my life’s angels from the beginning. There is my friend, Michael Sulsona. He and I have been friends for more than 30 years now and do not think a brother can love a brother any more than I love Michael.

I am in the midst of writing a memoir and the end is in sight. I know I still have writing to do when it comes to my father, Poppop and Michael. Sometimes stillness comes over me and it is as if my body freezes in place. I cannot move a muscle. I cannot even get my pen to move. I know I will fail in any attempt to write the three miracles in my life just mentioned.

I know, too, that the greater failure would be not to try.