Friday, June 14, 2013
Wednesday, May 29, 2013
The Proud Tower
The Guns of August/The Proud Tower by Barbara W. TuchmanMy rating: 4 of 5 stars
This volume includes two books by Barbara Tuchman: The Guns of August and The Proud Tower. The first book; The Guns of August is a detailed account of World War I. The Proud Tower is an in depth look at all aspects of society leading up to WW1; social structures, economics, politics, socialism, anarchy in Britain, Europe, Russia, and the U.S. Consider the whole volume a chronicle of Western civilization right before and through Season 1 of Downtown Abbey.
I read The Proud Tower first since it concerns the time before WW1: 1890 - 1914. Do not be put off by detail heavy long paragraphs leading to longer chapters. Ms. Tuchman tells history as a story and tells each story in an easy to follow, chronological, cause and effect narration that relates detail effortlessly while giving the reader a sense of the big picture.
I especially enjoyed the part about the English aristocracy and how the same forces shaped and were changed in America. I also loved the detailed account of politics in the U.S. at that time. Reading about the machinations of the different parties in Congress and how they're not that different than today. They didn't have the filibuster but they had other rules and ways to block progress they didn't like. Unlike now there was a very strong Leader of the House who brilliantly made things happen despite the other parties obstructionism.
I didn't try to remember all of the names and dates. I just kept reading and the really important ones kept appearing making them easy to remember, and the dates fell easily into place due to the authors clear narration.
View all my reviews
Wednesday, May 22, 2013
I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings
The free bird leaps
on the back of the wind
and floats downstream
till the current ends
and dips his wings
in the orange sun rays
and dares to claim the sky.
But a bird that stalks
down his narrow cage
can seldom see
through his bars of rage
his wings are clipped
and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.
The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of the things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird sings of freedom.
The free bird thinks
of another breeze
and the trade winds soft
through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting
on a dawn-bright lawn
and he names the sky his own.
But a caged bird stands
on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts
on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped
and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.
The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird sings of freedom.
Maya Angelou
on the back of the wind
and floats downstream
till the current ends
and dips his wings
in the orange sun rays
and dares to claim the sky.
But a bird that stalks
down his narrow cage
can seldom see
through his bars of rage
his wings are clipped
and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.
The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of the things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird sings of freedom.
The free bird thinks
of another breeze
and the trade winds soft
through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting
on a dawn-bright lawn
and he names the sky his own.
But a caged bird stands
on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts
on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped
and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.
The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird sings of freedom.
Maya Angelou
Friday, May 03, 2013
Quote: Dalai Lama
“We need to understand the inadequacy of an educational system so slanted towards material values. The solution is not to give an occasional lecture, but to integrate ethics into the educational curriculum. To do this effectively requires a secular ethics, free of religious influence, based on common sense, a realistic view and scientific findings.”
Dalai Lamia
Dalai Lamia
Saturday, April 06, 2013
The Martian Child: A Novel About A Single Father Adopting A Son by David GerroldMy rating: 4 of 5 stars
I read this book after watching the film based on this book starring John Cusak and his sister Joan Cusak playing his sister in the story. The movie is a wonderful film I fell in love with instantly. The movie tells the story in a very straight forward, chronological format focusing on David's son's coping with his feeling of disconnect by believing he's from Mars. The book spends more time in David's head explaining his, David's, creative thought process and how he comes to understand his son. The plot is basically the same; most of the events in the movie are in the book, just not featured the same way. But they both are wonderful stories and both have equally rewarding endings.
View all my reviews
Friday, April 05, 2013
TED Talk: The Power of Disconnection or Going Dune Blasting with Yoda
Make every day your first day.
Who're you letting live rent free in your head?
Why do you matter?
Only hurt people hurt others.
The most extraordinary people don't care about winning as much as they care about being successful.
Who're you letting live rent free in your head?
Why do you matter?
Only hurt people hurt others.
The most extraordinary people don't care about winning as much as they care about being successful.
Word of the Day: Interstitial
Interstitial; something in between, eg. interstitial music between segments, interstitial page between regular text, interstitial fluid or fiber between internal organs. Interstitial.
Thursday, April 04, 2013
Quote: Abraham
“You are magnificent beings, in the perfect place at the perfect time, unfolding perfectly, never getting it done, and never getting it wrong. Be more playful about all of it. "Today, no matter where I'm going, no matter what I am doing, and no matter who I'm doing it with — it is my dominant intent to look for that which I'm wanting to see. I'm wanting to find thoughts and words and actions that feel good while I'm finding them. For in doing so, I am, in the moment, practicing the art of allowing all that I've been telling the Universe I'm wanting, for all of the days of my existence.”
— Abraham
It occurs to me that this is also what people who are their own worst enemies are doing. People who never had any love, safety, food, or positive role models in their life; who never learned how to be a force for good in their own life. They're also looking for that which they want to see. Looking for thoughts, words, and actions that feel good while looking for them, living in the moment, telling the universe who they are and what they want. And they're not going to look for anything different or tell the universe anything different until someone comes into their life in a way that they recognize and respect and shows them a different way.
— Abraham
It occurs to me that this is also what people who are their own worst enemies are doing. People who never had any love, safety, food, or positive role models in their life; who never learned how to be a force for good in their own life. They're also looking for that which they want to see. Looking for thoughts, words, and actions that feel good while looking for them, living in the moment, telling the universe who they are and what they want. And they're not going to look for anything different or tell the universe anything different until someone comes into their life in a way that they recognize and respect and shows them a different way.
Sunday, March 24, 2013
Brene Brown: Shame and Vulerability
“When you get to a place where you understand that love and belonging, your worthiness, is a birthright and not something you have to earn, anything is possible.
Your raise can be on the table, your promotion can be on the table, your title can be on the table, your grades can be on the table. But keep your worthiness for love and belonging off the table. And then ironically everything else just takes care of itself.”
“Be brave and vulnerable.”
“You can’t raise children who have more shame resilience than you do. Because even if you don’t shame them, and even if you are actively trying to raise them feeling good about who they are, they’re never going to treat themselves better than you treat yourself. If you want to raise a daughter with a really healthy body image, you better love your body as a mother, because that counts way more than looking at your daughter and saying “You’re beautiful and your body is beautiful.” All that matters to her is how she sees you acting with your own body. We can’t give children what we don’t have. We have to be the adults we hope they grow up to be.”
“Connection is why we're here. It's what gives purpose and meaning to our lives.”
“ Vulnerability is the core of shame and fear and our struggle for worthiness, but it is also the birthplace of joy, of creativity, of belonging, and of love.”
“Vulnerability is not weakness.”
“Vulnerability is emotional risk, exposure, uncertainty. It's our most accurate measurement of courage.”
“Vulnerability is the birthplace of innovation, creativity, and change.”
We have to talk about shame.
Shame is an epidemic in our courage.
Your raise can be on the table, your promotion can be on the table, your title can be on the table, your grades can be on the table. But keep your worthiness for love and belonging off the table. And then ironically everything else just takes care of itself.”
“Be brave and vulnerable.”
“You can’t raise children who have more shame resilience than you do. Because even if you don’t shame them, and even if you are actively trying to raise them feeling good about who they are, they’re never going to treat themselves better than you treat yourself. If you want to raise a daughter with a really healthy body image, you better love your body as a mother, because that counts way more than looking at your daughter and saying “You’re beautiful and your body is beautiful.” All that matters to her is how she sees you acting with your own body. We can’t give children what we don’t have. We have to be the adults we hope they grow up to be.”
“Connection is why we're here. It's what gives purpose and meaning to our lives.”
“ Vulnerability is the core of shame and fear and our struggle for worthiness, but it is also the birthplace of joy, of creativity, of belonging, and of love.”
“Vulnerability is not weakness.”
“Vulnerability is emotional risk, exposure, uncertainty. It's our most accurate measurement of courage.”
“Vulnerability is the birthplace of innovation, creativity, and change.”
We have to talk about shame.
Shame is an epidemic in our courage.
Friday, March 22, 2013
Quote: Theodore Roosevelt
“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasm; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly.”
— Theodore Roosevelt
— Theodore Roosevelt
Wednesday, March 20, 2013
The Psychology of Evil
He speaks really fast, but it's worthwhile to stay with him.
More about the talk by Mr. Zimbardo is at this link.
Quote: Don Miguel Ruiz
“(This) is why humans resist life. To be alive is the biggest fear humans have. Death is not the biggest fear we have; our biggest fear is taking the risk to be alive—the risk to be alive and express what we really are. Just being ourself is the biggest fear of humans. We have learned to live our life trying to satisfy other people's demands. We have learned to live our life trying to satisfy other people's point of view because of the fear of not being accepted and of not being good enough for someone else.”
Don Miguel Ruiz
The Four Agreements
Sunday, March 17, 2013
Quote: Marc Chernoff
“Making money is pretty easy. Attaining true wealth is not. Most people have jobs and bring in an income. What’s difficult is to earn it by doing something that makes a positive difference.
Knowing deep down that you counted; that someone else’s life is not as rich without you in it —that’s priceless. That’s something worth working for.”
- Marc Chernoff
Friday, March 15, 2013
Tuesday, March 05, 2013
This isn't about equal rights on paper.
This isn't just about not getting fired or seeing our partner in the hospital or marriage or adoption. This is about not getting our head bashed in to the pavement.
A witness at the scene with her two teenaged sisters says the violent actions of the officers involved left her younger siblings seriously traumatised. “They were crying while the police bashed the boy’s head into the cement,” she said. “It was horrible, disgusting behaviour.”
Another witness adds: “They picked him up by the throat and slammed him into the ground with his head hitting the ground that hard it sounded like a bowling ball hitting the ground,” she said. “This was while he was in handcuffs.” - From the news site Same Same.
This video is quite violent. If you aren't disturbed by it have someone check you for a pulse.
Monday, March 04, 2013
Sunday, March 03, 2013
What happens when a neuroscientist gets to experience a stroke from the inside out.
Tuesday, February 26, 2013
Fixing Our Broken Systems
TED
"Rules are like a road map that gets you to the right city, but not to the right street."
- Barry Schwartz
We depend on rules, guidelines, and laws to provide structure, order, and function, but too often these systems fail us. These TED speakers propose how to fix our broken systems by looking to trust and practical wisdom as ways to mend education, medicine, and the law. Plus, how games might be our best resources to solve real-world problems.
Listen to the full episode.
Note: The last part on games is especially fun. It may make you think better of folks who spend so much time on online games. They may even have the key to our most challenging problems.
Monday, February 25, 2013
Proof of Heaven: A Neurosurgeon's Journey into the Afterlife by Eben AlexanderMy rating: 5 of 5 stars
A well-written, intelligent, detailed account of a neurosurgeon's near death experience. Dr. Alexander goes further into his near death experience than other accounts I've heard and tells his tale in an easy-to-follow compelling way.
Reading this book moved me from "I believe in near death experiences but atheists my be right about the brain having a deep self-preservation response" to "yes, NDEs are absolutely real experiences." If I'm to expect everyone to believe and respect me when I tell them I'm gay; and I'm to believe and honor someone when they tell me they're transgender; then I'm compelled to believe Dr. Alexander when he tells me of his experience. Our experiences are most of who we are. Maya Angelou said, "When someone tells you who they are, believe them."
I believe him.
View all my reviews
Different Perspective
It used to be that when a man got a woman pregnant the honorable thing for him to do was to marry her. But now, according to John McCain and Newt Gingrich, when a man cheats on his wife the honorable thing to do is to marry the mistress.
Sunday, February 24, 2013
This American Life
487: Harper High School, Part One
FEB 15, 2013
We spent five months at Harper High School in Chicago, where last year alone 29 current and recent students were shot. 29. We went to get a sense of what it means to live in the midst of all this gun violence, how teens and adults navigate a world of funerals and Homecoming dances. We found so many incredible and surprising stories, this show is a two-parter.Listen to part one here.
487: Harper High School, Part Two FEB 22, 2013 We pick up where we left off last week in our second hour from Harper High School in Chicago. We find out if a shooting in the neighborhood will derail the school's Homecoming game and dance. We hear the origin story of one of Harper's gangs. And we ask a group of teenagers: where do you get your guns.Saturday, February 23, 2013
Sunday, June 03, 2012
Mt. Laguna
Friday Teresa and Lee and I piled into Lee's new Fiat 500 and drove east on the 8 to Sunset Highway to Mt. Laguna. Mt. Laguna isn't one peak but a high ridge reaching up to 6000 feet. Teresa and I hadn't been there before so Lee gave us a grand tour of the area's camping grounds, cabins, general store, view points, and different trails before parking at the head of the trail he thought we'd enjoy.
We only hiked for about 2 hours but we went through pine forest, a large meadow and pond, a creek, rocky outcrops, and great views across to other mountains. The only sound was the song of the wind through the trees. Pine trees in dry areas at high altitudes give off a particular, refreshing scent that brought back memories of visiting the Southwest one summer with my family as a seven or eight year old.
To see the slideshow full screen; click on it, then look for the Full Screen button in the upper left and press Play lower center. Mine say OLMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA. The rest were taken by Lee.
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
Charlie's Angels
Sabrina, Jill, Kelly, and Charlie came over for a short stay while their house gets fumigated. Katie quickly greeted her new friends.
Saturday, March 03, 2012
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Monday, February 27, 2012
Descanso Falls
Friday at 10:00 Teresa and Lee parked by my house and we piled into my car. We headed east on the 8 to the 67 to go north just a short way to Descanso. It’s a small hamlet at 3500 feet at the southern tip of the Cuyamaca Rancho State Park. The road winds around a couple miles to the trail head.
There was already a pick-up truck with a horse trailer and a couple getting the horses ready for a ride when we parked in the shade of a large tree. After taking pictures at the trail head we hiked the main trail for a short way up a steep incline and then took a smaller trail down to the spring fed falls.
I took my boots and socks off to cool my feet, but the water was freezing. I could only just dip my toes in for a few seconds. But the cold water kept all of the rocks around it cool and we had a nice time snacking on munchies and talking until we were ready to head back.
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**Thank you Lee Bowman for sharing your photos.
Saturday, February 11, 2012
Still I Rise
You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.
Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.
Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.
Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.
Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.
You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.
Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?
Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.
Maya Angelou
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.
Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.
Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.
Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.
Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.
You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.
Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?
Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.
Maya Angelou
Monday, January 23, 2012
Sunday, January 22, 2012
Friday, January 20, 2012
Thursday, January 19, 2012
Piano Lessons 5
After many years and several different teachers I was assigned to a teacher that was new to the program but not new to teaching music. She had a great ear and a dynamic, encouraging teaching style. She paid attention more than anyone else every had. I was very excited. Working with her would be tough but rewarding.
After a couple weeks I was told that she had decided not to join the program but would teach on her own out of her home. Years of useless attempts at interactive communication at home had taught me that the answer to every question was “no.”. Finally, my junior year of high school I walked out of Illinois Wesleyan University’s Music Building and their Piano Pedagogy Department.
At college I met many people my age who could play much more difficult music than I ever tried and would sound better at the first sitting than I would after months of teaching my fingers where to go. Sometime after college I found out from my mother that she always wanted me to be able to just sit down at the piano and have fun with it; to play like my grandmother played. My grandmother had a whole notebook full of popular songs going back to the ’30s and would pound them out during holiday get togethers while my aunts sang along.
All those years of classical piano lessons, all those hours of practicing, all that frustration at no support and no way out, all those other things I didn't get to do and none of it was for me. It didn't raise my mother's esteem for me. She did not respect me any more for it. It was just to fulfill her desire to be like her mother that she couldn’t do for herself.
I haven't touched a piano in decades.
After a couple weeks I was told that she had decided not to join the program but would teach on her own out of her home. Years of useless attempts at interactive communication at home had taught me that the answer to every question was “no.”. Finally, my junior year of high school I walked out of Illinois Wesleyan University’s Music Building and their Piano Pedagogy Department.
At college I met many people my age who could play much more difficult music than I ever tried and would sound better at the first sitting than I would after months of teaching my fingers where to go. Sometime after college I found out from my mother that she always wanted me to be able to just sit down at the piano and have fun with it; to play like my grandmother played. My grandmother had a whole notebook full of popular songs going back to the ’30s and would pound them out during holiday get togethers while my aunts sang along.
All those years of classical piano lessons, all those hours of practicing, all that frustration at no support and no way out, all those other things I didn't get to do and none of it was for me. It didn't raise my mother's esteem for me. She did not respect me any more for it. It was just to fulfill her desire to be like her mother that she couldn’t do for herself.
I haven't touched a piano in decades.
Sunday, January 15, 2012
Marc Chagall
“When I am finishing a picture I hold some God-made object up to it—a rock, a flower, the branch of a tree or my hand—as a kind of final test. If the painting stands up beside a thing man cannot make, the painting is authentic. If there's a clash between the two, it is bad art.”
- Marc Chagall
- Marc Chagall
Saturday, January 14, 2012
Invisible
My oldest brother, Steve, is 6 years older than I am. We look like brothers but no one has ever mistaken one of us for the other. Starting in 7th grade, after every public appearance, my mother would say to me, “You sure looked like Steve up there.” She said this seriously as if I was to take it as a great compliment. Even though I respected my older brother, it seemed like a non sequitur from the beginning.
She was completely consistent, saying it after every junior high band concert, Boy Scout awards ceremony, high school marching band performance, concert band performance, piano recital, summer band camp concert, Honor Society ceremony, high school graduation; “You sure looked like Steve up there.”
University of Illinois Marching Band members are given two free season tickets each year to give to their parents. My parents were long since divorced but I was able to just give them the tickets and they would hand them off between themselves.
The seats weren’t great. They were in a corner of the lower deck, far from the action and not up high enough to see very well. When I was in it, the Marching Illini was 300 strong; almost all wearing the same uniform and brass instruments covered our faces. After the first game my freshman year; “You sure looked like Steve out there.”
She was completely consistent, saying it after every junior high band concert, Boy Scout awards ceremony, high school marching band performance, concert band performance, piano recital, summer band camp concert, Honor Society ceremony, high school graduation; “You sure looked like Steve up there.”
University of Illinois Marching Band members are given two free season tickets each year to give to their parents. My parents were long since divorced but I was able to just give them the tickets and they would hand them off between themselves.
The seats weren’t great. They were in a corner of the lower deck, far from the action and not up high enough to see very well. When I was in it, the Marching Illini was 300 strong; almost all wearing the same uniform and brass instruments covered our faces. After the first game my freshman year; “You sure looked like Steve out there.”
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Piano Lessons 4
My teacher recommended me for a special program that was an evaluated performance in front of a judge. If you received high marks for 10 years in a row you won a college scholarship. The first year went ok. The 2nd year I planned to play a challenging Chopin piece. I could play the piece just fine. I had the technical ability and the musicality. Chopin is known for having had large hands and wrote music that requires more than an octave reach. My hands don't seem large but my fingers are long and I could reach all the notes.
But the level of concentration required to memorize the order of the themes and repeats could not be achieved at home and I floundered on stage. After the director walked up and let me know I had gone over the allowed time I met my mother at the back of the auditorium and we walked home. She mentioned several times how embarrassed she was while I was fumbling at the keyboard. She found the whole experience very embarrassing. How I felt? She never asked.
But the level of concentration required to memorize the order of the themes and repeats could not be achieved at home and I floundered on stage. After the director walked up and let me know I had gone over the allowed time I met my mother at the back of the auditorium and we walked home. She mentioned several times how embarrassed she was while I was fumbling at the keyboard. She found the whole experience very embarrassing. How I felt? She never asked.
Sunday, January 08, 2012
Fatherly Advice
I don't know how my brothers learned the facts of life, but I do remember that when the time came my father ignored his usual Depression Era spending plan and gave my older brothers really nice electric shavers. I waited as long as I could but finally had to teach myself to shave using my mother's leg razor. That summer at Boy Scout Camp one of the Scoutmasters had a disposable razor and encouraged me to use it.
Not to completely abandon his duties, a couple years later my father said to me, “You know, you're getting to the age where you need to start trimming your nose hairs.”
Not to completely abandon his duties, a couple years later my father said to me, “You know, you're getting to the age where you need to start trimming your nose hairs.”
Monday, January 02, 2012
Sunday, January 01, 2012
Piano Lessons 3
Each spring the piano pedagogy department gave a recital in the university's nicest music auditorium. Each student would walk across the stage, play their best piece on the music department's best concert grand, bow, and walk off.
There was a whole system: All of the kids sat in one section by the stage door. While one student was playing one would be waiting backstage for their turn to walk out and one would be waiting in their seat for their turn to walk back stage.
One year early in my career my grandmother came down for the spring recital. Her first name was Mildred. After the program she and my mother and father were standing around her car talking before she headed back home. While talking my father called her “Millie.” Even at that young age, and despite my mother’s and grandmother’s grace at not acknowledging the insult, I could tell that it wasn't right for him to call her by that name.
Several years later, at home after the recital, I picked up my father’s printed program. He had written a one word review of each of the performers. Several of the 16 and 17 year old girls were “sexy.” I was “average.”
There was a whole system: All of the kids sat in one section by the stage door. While one student was playing one would be waiting backstage for their turn to walk out and one would be waiting in their seat for their turn to walk back stage.
One year early in my career my grandmother came down for the spring recital. Her first name was Mildred. After the program she and my mother and father were standing around her car talking before she headed back home. While talking my father called her “Millie.” Even at that young age, and despite my mother’s and grandmother’s grace at not acknowledging the insult, I could tell that it wasn't right for him to call her by that name.
Several years later, at home after the recital, I picked up my father’s printed program. He had written a one word review of each of the performers. Several of the 16 and 17 year old girls were “sexy.” I was “average.”
Friday, December 30, 2011
Piano Lessons 2
My piano teacher, usually frustrated that I hadn't practiced much, was ecstatic one week when the lesson went really well and said that if I practiced like that every week I'd be the best student in their program. At home my father didn't have anything to do with me. He was dismayed that one of his sons, already not the butchest boy on the block, was continuing to take piano lessons. One of my brothers was openly hostile and my mother considered getting the lessons paid for completed her part and expected me to do the rest. In the passive-aggressive logic of the Midwest she didn't like it any more than my father did that she had a not-butch son taking piano lessons, but made a great show of disappointment whenever I hinted at possibly doing something else.
I knew I wasn't the butchest kid on the block because one day the kid next door (we were friends, but not great friends; mostly we were somebody to do stuff outside with for each other) said that the previous evening, while they were all watching television, his father had said that I was a pansy. He did not say this in a mean or taunting way, just matter-of-factly his father had said that I was a pansy.
I knew I wasn't the butchest kid on the block because one day the kid next door (we were friends, but not great friends; mostly we were somebody to do stuff outside with for each other) said that the previous evening, while they were all watching television, his father had said that I was a pansy. He did not say this in a mean or taunting way, just matter-of-factly his father had said that I was a pansy.
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
Piano Lessons 1
Just as some mothers are determined that one of their sons will grow up to be a priest, my mother was determined that one of her sons would learn to play the piano. She was able to harass my father into the expense despite his preferred spending plan of acting like it was the Depression, and his complete failure to understand why anyone would need anything that he did not.
So one summer my two older brothers took piano lessons from this nice lady who had a cute house with a steep gable over the front door. They, wisely, were horrible at it; trying to learn their pieces at the last minute just before the final recital, one of my brothers breaking out in tears, my father looking on proudly, my mother, not too disappointed, realized this wasn't going to work.
A couple years later I started piano lessons with Mrs. Schafer who had a piano studio in her finished basement. Stupidly, I showed some aptitude for it; learning how to read music and the key signatures and the scales fairly quickly. After a year her husband got a job out of town and I started taking lessons at the university two blocks away.
So one summer my two older brothers took piano lessons from this nice lady who had a cute house with a steep gable over the front door. They, wisely, were horrible at it; trying to learn their pieces at the last minute just before the final recital, one of my brothers breaking out in tears, my father looking on proudly, my mother, not too disappointed, realized this wasn't going to work.
A couple years later I started piano lessons with Mrs. Schafer who had a piano studio in her finished basement. Stupidly, I showed some aptitude for it; learning how to read music and the key signatures and the scales fairly quickly. After a year her husband got a job out of town and I started taking lessons at the university two blocks away.
Quote: Isaac Asimov
“Knowledge is indivisible. When people grow wise in one direction, they are sure to make it easier for themselves to grow wise in other directions as well. On the other hand, when they split up knowledge, concentrate on their own field, and scorn and ignore other fields, they grow less wise—even in their own field.”
Friday, December 23, 2011
Apology
In that letter where my father said he didn't think Mom “would do that” he went on to blame everything that went wrong with our family on our mother. He didn't mention that, as undisputed head of the household in all things, a role he insisted was his, he might be at least partly at fault.
In the letter my father justified his blamelessness on being a workaholic and a man of the church, spending time at meetings and classes. He didn't mention time spent pursuing other women. One year he took another woman to his office Christmas party. Another time he had a vasectomy without telling my mother, but she connected the dots of how he was acting when he called in sick to work.
Also in that letter my father expressed his regret at not being around more when I “made my decision.” My father was a very intelligent man. It's too bad that he put his intelligence into learning conspiracy theories instead of learning to respect his intelligent son. After not talking for 2 years he cornered me at my Aunt's funeral, told me I looked sunburnt and skinny and proceeded to expound on the latest theory that being a gay man equaled having AIDS. I was tan and fit in a room full of pastey, fat people destined to die of heart disease, starting with him. Seven years later my uncle found him in his apartment.
In the letter my father justified his blamelessness on being a workaholic and a man of the church, spending time at meetings and classes. He didn't mention time spent pursuing other women. One year he took another woman to his office Christmas party. Another time he had a vasectomy without telling my mother, but she connected the dots of how he was acting when he called in sick to work.
Also in that letter my father expressed his regret at not being around more when I “made my decision.” My father was a very intelligent man. It's too bad that he put his intelligence into learning conspiracy theories instead of learning to respect his intelligent son. After not talking for 2 years he cornered me at my Aunt's funeral, told me I looked sunburnt and skinny and proceeded to expound on the latest theory that being a gay man equaled having AIDS. I was tan and fit in a room full of pastey, fat people destined to die of heart disease, starting with him. Seven years later my uncle found him in his apartment.
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Tattletale
When I was little my father would spend most evenings working late and leaving my mother to single-handedly manage 3 young, rambunctious boys by herself. That's not redundant: I mean single-handedly literally. She survived polio at the age of 2 but was left with little use of her left arm.
My mother would send me to my father's office to keep him company. Then she wasn't bothered by my walking nearly a mile across town in the dark by myself. But one year after the YMCA Halloween Party I watched all of the other kids get picked up by their parents, waited a while longer, then decided walking home alone was better than sitting on a downtown street corner alone. This was a walk I'd made dozens of times after swim lessons. But this time she was furious that I had set off in the dark by myself. When she got home she screamed at me and got out the belt.
Those evenings when I got to my father's office he'd let me play on the office machines. I especially remember the large adding machine with all of the numbers lined up down the front of it and a big handle to pull to make it do the calculation. One time when I got there the office was dark and the door was locked so I just walked back home.
My mother would send me to my father's office to keep him company. Then she wasn't bothered by my walking nearly a mile across town in the dark by myself. But one year after the YMCA Halloween Party I watched all of the other kids get picked up by their parents, waited a while longer, then decided walking home alone was better than sitting on a downtown street corner alone. This was a walk I'd made dozens of times after swim lessons. But this time she was furious that I had set off in the dark by myself. When she got home she screamed at me and got out the belt.
Those evenings when I got to my father's office he'd let me play on the office machines. I especially remember the large adding machine with all of the numbers lined up down the front of it and a big handle to pull to make it do the calculation. One time when I got there the office was dark and the door was locked so I just walked back home.
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Monday, December 19, 2011
San Diego Driving Tips
While exchanging emails with a friend about possible activities in San Diego when visiting family over the holidays I passed along a few driving tips and I thought some of the rest of you might benefit as well. If you’re visiting Southern California over the Holidays, or anytime for a mid-winter break, there are a few differences between driving here and driving in the Midwest that may surprise you and being aware of them might be enough to avoid something you'd rather didn't happen while on vacation.
First: treat driving in the rain like you would driving in the snow back in the midwest. Most obviously, because the other cars on the road do. But don't assume they're idiots and zip around them like a maniac. There are several good reasons for their caution.
Since there can be up to nine months between rains here, the fluids that leak out of cars and trucks build up instead of getting washed away. And when it does rain it's usually light, floating the oil residue up but not washing it off. What's left on the road is something with the consistency of snot. Not a good surface for high-performance driving.
Even after the main rain slows down or stops, 4 or more lanes of cars kick up a lot of spray. It's like driving through a dense, low fog with the addition of side-rocker jets like car washes have. You may be able to look up and see blue sky but not see the tail lights of the car in front of you. Don't mind the jacked up 4x4 trucks with monster wheels zipping by you in the fast lane. Their higher vantage point and rugged equipment gives them the advantage over your rental car. Plus, guys that drive those things are compensating for something.
Hydroplaning is a real possibility. A couple years ago a friend completely lost control of her car on a patch of rain sitting on the highway. Fortunately she didn't careen into anybody else or get seriously injured. Unfortunately her new car was totaled.
If you're approaching water or feel yourself losing steering control, ease off of the accelerator. Don't jam on the breaks. Make small controlled adjustments with the steering wheel. Do not over steer.
When changing lanes on a 3 or more lane freeway, look 2 lanes over to make sure no one is about to move into the same space you want. It's not enough to make sure the lane next to you is clear.
When driving on surface streets through a busy neighborhood make a point of looking for pedestrians. There can be a lot of us and we have the right-of-way in cross-walks. If you hit someone who's stepped out into the street in the middle of a block you may not get a ticket but your auto insurance will most likely end up paying out on a bodily injury claim.
San Diego County has 511 service. You can call 511 for traffic updates, mass transit information, and roadside assistance. I'm guessing it's also available in Orange County and LA County.
On a recent episode the Car Talk guys berated everyone for comprising safety for convenience and just pulling over to the shoulder of the freeway. That's an extremely dangerous place to be. Don't worry about saving tires or wheels; drive slowly with the flashers on as far to the right as possible until you get to the next exit. After calling roadside assistance for help with a flat try not to be embarrassed when rescued by a guy in a Prius. Just sayin'.
Update: As Keith reminded me in his comment I should have mentioned that's it's legal, and common, for motorcycles to split lanes with cars in California. If freeway traffic slows down motorcycles may come up from behind and pass between your car and the vehicle in the next lane. It's also good to remind yourself to make a point of looking for motorcycles. On surface streets also look for bicycles, skate boarders, rollerbladers, and pedestrians. If you only look for cars, you'll only see cars.
First: treat driving in the rain like you would driving in the snow back in the midwest. Most obviously, because the other cars on the road do. But don't assume they're idiots and zip around them like a maniac. There are several good reasons for their caution.
Since there can be up to nine months between rains here, the fluids that leak out of cars and trucks build up instead of getting washed away. And when it does rain it's usually light, floating the oil residue up but not washing it off. What's left on the road is something with the consistency of snot. Not a good surface for high-performance driving.
Even after the main rain slows down or stops, 4 or more lanes of cars kick up a lot of spray. It's like driving through a dense, low fog with the addition of side-rocker jets like car washes have. You may be able to look up and see blue sky but not see the tail lights of the car in front of you. Don't mind the jacked up 4x4 trucks with monster wheels zipping by you in the fast lane. Their higher vantage point and rugged equipment gives them the advantage over your rental car. Plus, guys that drive those things are compensating for something.
Hydroplaning is a real possibility. A couple years ago a friend completely lost control of her car on a patch of rain sitting on the highway. Fortunately she didn't careen into anybody else or get seriously injured. Unfortunately her new car was totaled.
If you're approaching water or feel yourself losing steering control, ease off of the accelerator. Don't jam on the breaks. Make small controlled adjustments with the steering wheel. Do not over steer.
When changing lanes on a 3 or more lane freeway, look 2 lanes over to make sure no one is about to move into the same space you want. It's not enough to make sure the lane next to you is clear.
When driving on surface streets through a busy neighborhood make a point of looking for pedestrians. There can be a lot of us and we have the right-of-way in cross-walks. If you hit someone who's stepped out into the street in the middle of a block you may not get a ticket but your auto insurance will most likely end up paying out on a bodily injury claim.
San Diego County has 511 service. You can call 511 for traffic updates, mass transit information, and roadside assistance. I'm guessing it's also available in Orange County and LA County.
On a recent episode the Car Talk guys berated everyone for comprising safety for convenience and just pulling over to the shoulder of the freeway. That's an extremely dangerous place to be. Don't worry about saving tires or wheels; drive slowly with the flashers on as far to the right as possible until you get to the next exit. After calling roadside assistance for help with a flat try not to be embarrassed when rescued by a guy in a Prius. Just sayin'.
Update: As Keith reminded me in his comment I should have mentioned that's it's legal, and common, for motorcycles to split lanes with cars in California. If freeway traffic slows down motorcycles may come up from behind and pass between your car and the vehicle in the next lane. It's also good to remind yourself to make a point of looking for motorcycles. On surface streets also look for bicycles, skate boarders, rollerbladers, and pedestrians. If you only look for cars, you'll only see cars.
Saturday, December 17, 2011
Discipline
When I was 3 and 4 years old my mother would get so mad she would whip me with a belt; hard and for a long time. I have no memory of what, if anything, I did to incite such wrath; probably just trying to get some kind of attention. I remember trying to talk to her and she’d keep walking away. At one point I said, “ Mom, I'm trying to talk to you. Please stop walking away.” She said I could talk to her but that I would have to follow her around; she had no time to stop. The beatings were so bad that my father had to take a break from working late to make her stop. Many years later I got a letter from him saying, “I didn’t think your mother would do that.”
At times both my brothers and both my parents would be yelling at me all at once about how awful, unreasonable, and irresponsible I was. I’d have to tell them it was completely unfair for all of them to yell at me at once and that if they were going to yell at me they could only do it one at a time. It was the only point I ever successfully got across.
I do remember wondering why suddenly the beatings stopped and things improved for me at home. From then on I was more polite and forever more subdued.
At times both my brothers and both my parents would be yelling at me all at once about how awful, unreasonable, and irresponsible I was. I’d have to tell them it was completely unfair for all of them to yell at me at once and that if they were going to yell at me they could only do it one at a time. It was the only point I ever successfully got across.
I do remember wondering why suddenly the beatings stopped and things improved for me at home. From then on I was more polite and forever more subdued.
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
Graham Street
We moved into a large, green shingle-sided house on Graham Street 2 blocks from a small Methodist university and 1/2 a block from Franklin Elementary School that had this awesome fire escape. It was an enclosed grey spiral slide down from the 2nd floor that the kids in the upper grades got to slide down during fire drills. I got through Mrs. Cranberry’s ( Cranapple’s? ) Kindergarten class just in time for the school district to announce that they were closing the school to general education students. The next year I started walking 9 blocks across town to Bent School.
Bent School is a very nice building that had been built as a high school and then was relegated to lower grades as newer high schools and junior highs were built. I remember my father nearly yelling at a school board meeting over the closing of Franklin School, saying he'd moved his family to be close to the school they would be attending. I was the youngest of three so his plan had nearly worked. For my part I was sorely disappointed I never got to go down that fire escape.
Bent School is a very nice building that had been built as a high school and then was relegated to lower grades as newer high schools and junior highs were built. I remember my father nearly yelling at a school board meeting over the closing of Franklin School, saying he'd moved his family to be close to the school they would be attending. I was the youngest of three so his plan had nearly worked. For my part I was sorely disappointed I never got to go down that fire escape.
Sunday, December 11, 2011
Hillary Clinton’s Human Rights Day Speech to the U.N.
I’m not a fan of speeches by politicians or government officials because they rarely have anything meaningful to say and usually talk down to the lowest common denominator in their audience. However, this speech is full of ground-breaking content and uses straight-forward language that speaks to all of us. Plus, her delivery is incredible. There are a few “uh”s at the beginning, but those quickly disappear.
From Rex Wockner
Catherine Street
When I was born our family lived in a small house on Catherine Street across from the railroad yard. I only remember one Christmas having a package in my hands with a toy airplane in it and asking if it was mine before opening it. I also remember peeking through the crack of a pair of locked doors to a garage at the car inside and being reprimanded for being where I knew I shouldn't. We moved when I was three. Later we would go back to visit the neighbors who I was supposed to remember as these great family friends, even though I wasn't old enough to remember much of anything when we lived there.
Wednesday, December 07, 2011
Saturday, December 03, 2011
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Quote
“Sometimes you have to divorce your friends.
Sometimes you have to divorce your family.”- Oprah Winfrey
Monday, November 28, 2011
Quote: George Carlin
“Anyone driving slower than me is an idiot and anyone driving faster is a maniac.”
Saturday, November 26, 2011
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Amazing Gracing, 4th verse
11 months ago I was sitting in a waiting room when I saw an elderly lady in much worse shape than I was in. She taught me that if I wrote down every blessing in my life I could be at it forever, and after all that time I wouldn't be any closer to being done than when I started. Since then the number of angels in my life has increased exponentially. Since then I see something to be grateful for in everything.
“When we've been here ten thousand years
Bright shining as the sun,
We've no less days to sing God's praise
Than when we'd first begun.”
Sunday, November 06, 2011
Sluts
Recently my friend Keith did the Slutwalk in Seattle to reinforce that the cause of rape is the rapist and not women who might dress in a way some may disapprove. It got me thinking about the word and the way we use it.
For a while I've thought ‘slut’ to be a worthless word. It implies guilt and shame, which are worthless emotions. And it's impossible to pin down exactly what it means.
Where's the line between virtue and sin?
Where's the line between virtue and sin?
The Catholic Church considers anyone who's had sex with more than one person, ever, to be a slut. That's most of us.
Most folks consider middle-age to be some indistinct number of years older than they are and they think sluts are people who've slept with more people than they have according to some obscure algorithm they've justified in their heads.
A co-worker once told me she was starting to get worried because she could no longer count the number of men she'd been with on one hand. I refused to tell her how many I'd been with because I could tell from the look on her face and her tone of voice that she would judge my double-digit number negatively. But compared to my friends that are well into triple digits, I'm a prude.
So does that mean that 5 is virtuous but 6 puts you on a slippery slope? When I reach 8 that's kind of a lot, but when you reach 8 that really isn't all that many? 9 you're fine, but 10 is just too much? 99? Well, ok, but 100 puts you in Madonna territory. And is that bad?
The people I admire most are the ones that are super comfortable in their own skin, know themselves well, and proudly label themselves sluts; and they take away anyone else's power to hurt them.
I truly think that God doesn't count how many. She knows, but is more concerned with how we treat ourselves and our partners.
If you think God is adding demerits as your list gets longer, then the opposite must also be true. I imagine that when I get to the Pearly Gates St. Peter is going to scowl down at me and say, “We sent you all these nice guys to bring joy to your life and you ran away from most of them. Downstairs!”
If you think God is adding demerits as your list gets longer, then the opposite must also be true. I imagine that when I get to the Pearly Gates St. Peter is going to scowl down at me and say, “We sent you all these nice guys to bring joy to your life and you ran away from most of them. Downstairs!”
Friday, October 21, 2011
Thought for the day:
Do not start to think of us as less than
because we fail to live up to your expectations of more than.
We are. Love us for that or get out of our way.
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Sunday, August 21, 2011
Kitten Family Photo
Test Photos
Saturday, August 20, 2011
How much are the kittens in the window?
They've grown SO MUCH! They seem to get bigger by the hour. They got their first shot and a clean bill of health from the vet this morning. They still nurse a little but the vet said this is the perfect time for them to go to their new homes. All of them are spoken for unless someone backs out at the last minute. Or you can try to sweet talk someone out of theirs.
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Guy Tunes
Saturday, July 30, 2011
Friday, July 29, 2011
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