PERSPECTIVErnTalking to Strangersrnby Thomas Flemingrn^^Tjlack History Month, sometimes called February . , ,”rn±J Sam Franeis’s witticism has been repeated ad infinitum,rnby friend and foe alike, usually with little appreciation of thernbroader implications. Ever since the French Revolution, Jacobinrnreformers conceived it their duty to redesign the calendar.rnIf they cannot always get away with dating the history ofrnthe world by their revolution or even eliminate traditional religiousrnholidays, they always succeed in glutting the seasons (andrnstreet names) with sacred dates like 14 juillct, cinqo di Majo, orrnthe Friday or Monday that falls closest to the birthday of somernbeloed hero or martyr of the revolution.rnThe American calendar is increasingly dominated by thesernartificial feast days, and the annual rhythm is determined byrnconsumerist seasons known as “summer vacation” and “only 90rnmore shopping days ’til Christmas,” which nonbelievers celebraternwith the same devotional zeal as the occasionally conformingrnChristians who established them.rnIt is the mark of the ideological state that private life andrncommunity traditions must take second place to the publicrngood and the national cults. Wherever “the public interest” isrnconcerned, no one is to be exempt. I once caught the end of arnWorld War II propaganda film (Gangway for Tomorrow) inrnwhich a loafer (played by John Carradine) is arrested and askedrnby the local magistrate what is he doing to help the war effort.rnWhen Carradine declares that he can do what he likes in a freerncountry, he is reprimanded and sentenced to work in a munitionsrnfactory. In the last scene he is chipping in to help sae thernworld for democracy with all the cheerfulness of a Corky hero.rnWhere there are no wars to prevent us from minding ourrnown business, there are always crises, many of them manufactured.rnIn recent years we have had to endure the teenage pregnancyrncrisis, the hole in the ozone crisis, the drug crisis, and thernviolence on television crisis. But crises, which are often boringrnand complicated, can be a hard sell. Crimes and scandals makernfor more effective distractions from everyday life, especially ifrnthey can be dramatized in a show trial. Since the 1970’s, itrnseems, the only American calendar that counts—the televisionrnschedule—has been dominated by trials and hearings that ha’erngradually usurped the functions of both news and entertainment.rnAlthough I can vaguely remember my communist pianornteacher talking about Joe McCarth}-, my first real experiencernwith show trials came with the Watergate hearings. I did myrnbest to avoid the affair, but even the lack of a television set andrna complete indifference to newspapers did not guarantee immunity.rnI listened to music on the radio in those days, and thernonly place for music was the local NPR station, and even if Irnmanaged to avoid Susan Stamberg, 1 could not avoid the conversationsrnin the library or in the bar. No matter how much Irntried to resist, I ended up knowing as much about Watergate asrnmost of my fellow citizens.rnAfter Mr. Nixon’s resignation, it seemed like years before thernnext ordeal, but more recently, the spectacles have come onernafter another, with hardly a breathing space in between;rnClarence Thomas/Anita Hill hearings, the Rodney King case,rnand, of course, the O.J. Simpson trial. People of my parents’rn8/CHRONICLESrnrnrn