So many 'survivors' seemed, initially, strange to me

Reminiscing over the holidays, about our move here 13 years ago (Mort immigrated on 16 December, our house closed on the 19th, etc) in 1996. I'd been 'in Virginia' on my own for three months. One of the first things that hit my 'cultural awareness' was the number of men I'd met at Datatel who were about my age, and Vietnam vets. I kept thinking....wow, so many folks lived through that. It took me a while to wise up to the facts. Of course the men I met who served in Vietnam were 'survivors' ! But my context, having left the US to live in Canada permanently in 1969, was either the number of fellows I knew personally who had died in Vietnam (5 from my graduating h/s class of only 70, was one statistic)...and then the large number of deserters and draft-dodgers I met in Montreal, Toronto, etc. When I started working as an in-course advisor at University of Toronto in early 1970, I kept being amazed by the number of young male undergraduates who easily contemplated dropping out for a while, or changing majors, etc with so much aplomb. It took me so long to adjust to the fact that that generation of guys didn't have to make the hard choices about war, life, etc.

Dystopian Novels.....Female writers rule !

All my absolute favs were written by women: Doris Lessing (but not the Campos ones, the earlier ones), PD James (Children of Men), Margaret Atwood (The Handmaid's Tale, Oryx & Crake, The Year of the Flood) and now, 'The Unit' by Ninni Holmqvist.



Moreso that any of my other favs, "the Unit' does, as one critic said (I read some reviews after not before, I read the novel) ...'create a mental condition and a geographical place.' And, moreso than any of the others, it incorporates the essential gender bias towards the 'longer productivity' of men over women in the marketplace...But more harrowing is the definitive line drawn between the 'dispensable' people (both male and female) and the 'necessary' ones.



If this book had not been written in Swedish, by a Swede, and only recently translated into English and sold in English edition, I would suspect it to have been a fictional commentary the 'logical extensions' of the right/conservative agenda .... but it is much grander in sweep....and therefore much more politically inclusive, focusing as it does on 'what it really takes' when a country and its society take action to ensure that resources and policies focus on achieving productive results.



Read it (Amazon has it on Kindle and paperback) and wonder....even if you can classify yourself among the 'necessary ones' ...if you're willing to go there....or to live in a country that does.

So, it's been a while. I thought long and hard about making an entry when Ted Kennedy died, end of an era, and some comments on my own political coming of age in the 60's, but then decided, no, not enough substance (although certainly a 'moment in life' where i looked at things again).

No what drove me to the keyboard today was the death of Mary Travers. Reminded me of one of those 'out of the blue' moments ........

Several years ago, I was waiting to meet with a client at a Theological Seminary. The waiting area outside her office was also outside the Chapel, and a service was underway. The sermon wound down and a muted trumpet started playing an oddly familiar melody in clear, but soft tones. Soon a guitar joined in, and then in purest, most lyrical and touching tones I'd ever heard, a fine male voice started into a full, all stanza, rendition of 'I shall be released.' I savoured the sound, the words, the guitar and trumpet, the whole nine yards, and was disappointed when the music ended, in the way we sometimes are disappointed when we reach the last page of a fine novel.

As my colleague left the chapel and came over to fetch me for our meeting, I told her how touched I was by the beautiful final 'number.'

Paul Stookey was spending that semester as musician in residence at the seminary....Time passes, music is a gift always......

Getting with the program: First Week on Facebook

What fun, FINALLY joining Facebook (shamed into it by family, friends, work colleagues and my erstwhile hairdresser, nonetheless !). Mostly what I like is seeing other folks pictures ! But I also like the ambience of chat/observation/etc. Everything from whether basil pineapple or basil blueberry is the better combination for a gelato flavour, to finding out that one of my former colleague's daughter's ankle surgery went well and she's on the mend.

Of course, my first week also included the major 'attack' on service for Facebook, I (of course) just said, blythely 'the internet must be down for a bit' and went and did something else.

The Bus Experience in NYC

This article reminded me of my own adventures 'riding the buses' in Manhattan (and occasionally, also in Brooklyn). For several years I was working with a client on 14th St between 6 & 7th Avenues, and liked to stay in a quasi (i.e. old) boutique hotel up on 24th East. I got accustomed to taking the 3rd Avenue Bus and then the 14th Street to get to/and fro during my week's assignments each month. I never noticed anyone 'famous' (or 'infamous' for that matter) but there was always something worthy of notice, and often quite thought-provoking too.

One stood out so much in my mind that I did write it down at the time, and shared it via email with a few friends. For those of you who might have 'read it before', just skip over this. Anyone else is welcome to share c'mon in:

The 'scene' Beautiful day in mid-October, balmy and it's rush hour. Get on the 14th Street bus, haul up my too-heavy computer 'roll-aboard' case and find a smash-croweded, standing room only busload of packed people. I suffle to the rear, hang-strap by hang-strap, and finally stoping, swaying over a 2 year old have a major tantrum on his mother's lap. Swing and Sway (and squeal and shriek). Two wheel chair passengers are strapped into the special anchor areas on either side of the rear doors. Two year old continues to wail. Mother murmurs comforting sounds and keeps him from hurling himself on the bus floor and/or into the knees of other passengers (such as, for example, mine) in a language I do not recognize.

Bus stops at a designated bus stop where connections are made and 'kneels' -- passenger loading side electronically lowers itself to sidewalk level with 'beep' 'beep' 'beep' sounding warnings. Disembarking passengers are asked politely to 'hold it' and embarking passengers are also waved aside. Two 'attendants' unhook the wheelchair passengers and roll them off the now-level platfor to the sidewalk.

Not done yet ! A waiting wheelchair passenger is then loaded up on the platfor, and bus returns to its normal travelling level (i.e. it 'un' kneels). Passengers help strap in the new wheelchair person. Then, blind person with Seeing Eye Dog boards, then throngs of 'regular' passengers. Two year old Tantrum Boy continues, more loudly if that is possible. Oriental new passenger starts singing to the child (in yet another language I don't recognize), mother smiles a 'thank you' and keeps fielding his thrashing.

Time, traffic, and rush hour continue as we make progress moving westward on 14th Street.

More people are getting off than on now, and I am offered a seat right behind the bus driver, which I gratefully accept. Tantrum continues. Person (yet another one, as I've moved to the front of the bus by now) in wheelchair falls asleep across from me, and the Seeing Eye Dog drools on my roll-aboard computer case, but 'smiles' at me and wags his tail when I look at him (and the drool).

Slowly I notice there is some standing right against the back of the driver's chair and motioning energetically with her hands. In the driver's rear view mirror, I see the driver motioning back to her, equally as energetically. At the next stop, the standing 'motioner' gets off and flashes American Sign Language for Thank You (one of the few phrases I've learned). I suddenly realize that she'd been asking for, and getting (!!) directions from the bus driver.

I see my stop and signal to get off. Child is still screaming, wheelchair person is still napping, and Seeing Eye Dog has last all interest in me and my bag and is catching a nap himself. I get off the bus, stop in Starbucks and get a latte to go, and go up to my client's offices, thinking I've had a true 'New York' slice of life experience.

All at the client site are amazed that I'm on time, and with a latte in hand, no less. A subway fire has the lower Manhattan area in gridlock disarray, delaying subway and ground level transportation everywhere. I recount to them my 'bus trip' and they decide to make me an 'honorary New Yorker' for the day.

'unergonomicism'

There are many many many reasons why I love The New Yorker and now, with this word in this week's edition, there is yet one more reason to love it.

What's the context? Hint, search out the article that deals with the Kindle

Onward, and happy weekend to you all

Follow up on Leaving a Comment

Humm, I'm new to blogging and heard from one reader that she couldn't leave a comment, so I've mikled about with the comment settings ...... let's see if it's more user-friendly now?

Getting started, finally

For some time now I've been 'thinking' about blogging, instead of writing random thoughts to share by direct email.

But like any new venture, the idea has to percolate for a while -- izzit worth it? do I really have anything to say? etc, and then finally I realize that I'm thinking things which I ultimately share radomly in those emails anyway, so why not just blog them instead.

When I was younger i.e. less older chronologically than I am now, so I felt I could be somewhat cavalier about 'getting older' (anyone remember those days?) I decided that one of my goals as I got older was to get wiser. And then I devised a sort of 'wisdom' scale analogy that I would like to be at least (my age) + 5 pts on a wisdom scale at any given time. Then I figured someone must have dropped something into my ginger tea, and dropped that idea completely. Too metric and too 'achievement' oriented.

Wisdom should come. But there must be things that one can do to make oneself easier for 'wisdom' to find, right?

Then I had it: notice things that strike me as 'interesting' or 'remarkable' and think a bit about them. What was interesting about that, or what made that instance remarkable? Often I found that the most interesting and remarkable experiences I felt I had were those where I experienced something entirely new for the first time and/or things that broadened and or challenged my normal thinking about things.

So, in no particular order, and on no particular schedule, I plan to write my way through some of those experiences in a shared environment.

Stay tuned and please comment !