Paranoia, or WHERE IS THAT LEBANESE MONGOOSE?

Spent my reading time with week with Avi's "Catch You Later, Traitor," a book I think anyone who lives in political "perilous times" should read.

The book is set in Brooklyn in 1950 during the McCarthyite "Red Scare," when the liberties of American citizens were violated for wrongthink, plain and simple.

I likely wouldn't have been a "commie" back then -- but I certainly could have been a sympathizer for those caught in the accusatory webs.

This bit from the book certainly caught my attention:

“Pete,” said Mr. Ordson [a blind man Pete Collison visits daily to read the news to], “we live in a time of great mistrust. This is not always a bad thing. People should question things. However, in my experience, too much suspicion undermines reason.”

I shook my head, only to remember he couldn’t see me.

“There’s a big difference,” he went on, “between suspicion and paranoia.”

“What’s . . . paranoia?”

“An unreasonable belief that you are being persecuted. For example,” Mr. Ordson went on, "I’m willing to guess you’ve even considered me to be the informer. After all, you told me you were going to follow your father. Perhaps I told the FBI.”

Startled, I stared at him. His blank eyes showed nothing. Neither did his expression. It was as if he had his mask on again.

“Have you considered that?” he pushed.

“No,” I said. But his question made me realize how much I’d shared with him. Trusted him. How he’d become my only friend. And he was the only one I hoad told I was going to follow my dad. Maybe he did tell the FBI.

He said, “I hope you get my point.”

Silcence settled around us. Loki [Ordson's seeing-eye dog] looked around, puzzled.

Mr. Ordson must have sensed what I was thinking because he said, “Now, Pete, you don’t really have any qualms about me, do you?”

No spoilers, of course, but I do like this little conversation on trust and paranoia. Because while we can be loyal to a cause, a government, et cetera, there's nothing wrong with a bit of skepticism when we believe things are fishy.

I'm thinking about the exploding pagers and walkie-talkies in Lebanon as of late, thinking that this is not a thing any government should be allowed by its citizens to do, because one can transform from "loyal citizen" to "pager bait" at the whim of whomever decided in the first place planting bombs or figuring out ways to make electronics explode to the point they're killing people was a good thing to do to the "enemy." And I look at my government-issued laptop and cell phone and wonder . . . 

On a lighter note: The book also contains reference to the Giants' "Shot Heard 'Round the World,' which was a much-needed light note:

As I got to that point in the book, I could hear Klinger wailing "Oh nooooo!" as his packing crate hideaway fell over, and I could see Charles passed out in the compound.