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The Season of Our Disillusionment
Posted on Dec 24, 2012
By Susan Zakin
During the December holidays I feel the urge to watch old black and white movies, preferably those starring Jimmy Stewart. This year, “It’s a Wonderful Life” is too painful, a reminder of what we used to be but aren’t anymore. I prefer screwball comedies like “The Philadelphia Story” with its sympathy for alcoholics and philanderers, and schizophrenic alternation between class rage and craven worship of old money.
In “The Philadelphia Story,” Cary Grant and Katharine Hepburn play an upper crust couple who, though divorced, still love each other. Hepburn almost, but not quite, falls for Stewart, a writer from a modest background. Every time Hepburn waxes nostalgic about the sailboat Grant designed for their honeymoon, the True Love, she murmurs in that wonderful Connecticut lockjaw, “My, she was yare.” This means, in boat language, fast, agile and resilient. When she says this, my eyes brim with tears along with hers.
Christmas has become the time when we take stock of our collective disillusionment. The season lost its innocence in the 1970s, around the same time we did. In my Manhattan barrio, children spent the holidays being passed back and forth between divorced parents, teenage girls devoured Vogue articles about Christmas in St. Bart’s and Mustique (Mick Jagger and Princess Margaret sightings obligatory), and parents engaged in the holiday standbys of drunkenness and depression.
In the 1980s, Mom and Dad settled into corporate harness, the stock market boomed, greed was good. We agonized about the commercialization of Christmas, but it didn’t stop us from buying things.
In retrospect, these stirrings of disquiet seem like relics of innocence. In the 2000s, “the season of giving” just adds to the overload of marketing. I’m beginning to wonder whether forking over cash on “Giving Tuesday” actually makes things worse. This is perhaps best exemplified by a tweet I saw from celebrity chef Rocco DiSpirito. After announcing that 50 million Americans suffer from hunger, DiSpirito urged me to click on a website to which each donation for food will be matched dollar for dollar by Bank of America.
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The bottom line? This is the same bank that cut 30,000 jobs in 2011 and the following year rewarded CEO Brian Moynihan by quadrupling his annual pay to $8.1 million.
This is not Jimmy Stewart’s bank. Ironically, it started off that way: Frank Capra modeled George Bailey, the good-hearted small town banker played by Stewart in “It’s a Wonderful Life,” on Bank of America founder A.P. Giannini, the self-made millionaire who was the first to offer loans to the working stiffs of America, people he believed to be generally honest.
I wrote back to DiSpirito, telling him that if Bank of America’s management really cared, it would stop laying people off.
In reality though, it’s not Moynihan’s job, or yours or mine to (fill in the blanks): feed the hungry, buy textbooks for public schools, keep hospitals open, bankroll local arts councils or even put up money for animal shelters.
We’re all OK with Bon Jovi and Bruce rocking for hurricane relief, but buying into the fiction that corporations should be playing the role of government will not end well. Foundations shouldn’t be the fount of good works, either. It’s not Bill Gates’ job, or Warren Buffett’s, to decide which diseases to cure or what kind of equipment should be in schools and libraries. Good works on a broad scale should not be subject to the whims of private individuals and certainly not to the self-interest of corporate CEOs, former or otherwise.
Call me a grinch, but even dropping a dollar in a bucket so little Brittney can have a new kidney is a capitulation. Our good works mean there is less pressure on insurance companies to do the right thing, and on government to force them to do it—or for the government to provide health care directly to citizens, which is what Obamacare would have looked like in a sane America.
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