COUNTING DOWN ON BLOG CHANGES: today is the day!

Today is the day! It's raining cats and dogs outside, but that should not prevent the launch of my newly-minted blog site. We hope to have it up and running this afternoon...specific time uncertain. There are a few adjustments to be made, and then it's off and running. I will be anxious to know what you think about it.








Cartoon credit: http://www.toonpool.com/tag_gallery_peter

ENTITLEMENT: a right to benefits that is granted esp. by law or contract

In his message to the public last Friday, Tiger Woods said that he engaged in extra-marital affairs because he had been led by success, money, and fame to a point where he believed he was entitled to do whatever he wanted. In a strange way, it is similar to the comments made by John Edwards and Eliot Spitzer when they acknowledged extra-marital encounters. Which is to say that we are becoming too familiar with these situations.

But Tiger Woods' reference to a sense of entitlement is worth noting. There is so much truth in it that it is scary. His acknowledgment of this flaw is a result of reflection and therapeutic direction around an issue which plagues many people in public life. The glamor and prestige factors create a mindset that defies a normal application of the brakes when temptations are plentiful.

The media jumped all over this admission of an entitlement factor, and it was scrutinized and analyzed extensively by talk show hosts and their guest experts. Articles, editorials and op-ed pieces in the print media were filled with criticism and analysis, as well.

It was ironic, therefore, on Friday, when the press cried, screamed, and stomped their feet when Tiger excluded them from the event in which he disclosed his acknowledgments of wrong-doing and apologized to those who were damaged by them. If there was ever a good example of entitlement it was in their rage and ranting. "They had a right" to be present,they claimed, to ask questions, and to confront Tiger Woods. He "owed it to them."

Really? I don't think so. Tiger Woods is in therapy. As one stage in his twelve-step therapeutic model, it was important to acknowledge his errors and to apologize to those harmed by them. In twelve-step therapy it is understood that this is one of the most difficult things a person will have to do to get to the point of health. It is not the same thing as having a dialogue with those to whom apologies are given. In some cases, the persons who have been harmed may refuse to allow the apology to be expressed. That, in itself, can be devastating.

That is not to say that a time will not come when such dialogue is possible. In fact, it is to be expected that a prominent person like Tiger Woods will want to do that. But not now. He doesn't owe the press...or anyone...the right to decide where he is in his therapy. This is not about committing professional suicide, it is about trying to get healthy.

The press is good at demanding "rights" to which they believe they are entitled. Pushing a camera in the face of a bereaved family member, the loser of a tournament, or the victim of a crime seems to be okay in the minds of the press. We in America have our own style of paparazzi, it seems. The assumed "contract" they have with the public is about disclosure of privately-held information, the revelation of secrets, and the invasion of private and family locations. That's a contract I've never signed, and I suspect I'm not the only one who feels that way.

In this case, Tiger deserves the right to invest in therapy without the interference of the press. There will be plenty of time down the road for interviews and press conferences. He is right to honor a schedule of therapy, and he is entitled to the privacy that requires.


Definition source: Merriam-Webster's Dictionary of Law, © 1996 Merriam-Webster, Inc.
Cartoon Credit: http://www.slate.com/id/2218277/

UNDER THE BUS: a place of betrayal

The first time I heard the phrase "thrown under the bus" I knew immediately what it meant. It's one of those phrases that doesn't need a lot of explanation.

The dictionary definitions for this term stress that a person is thrown under the bus because she or he is being sacrificed to benefit someone else. In other words, a vulnerable person is being destroyed or rejected in order for someone with authority over them to gain somehow. Just speaking the phrase makes me cringe.

Power is a commodity that has the capability of being valuable to society...or it has the capability of being destructive. How persons choose to use power determines its value. When people come to a point in their lives that they have ascended to a point of having power over others, it becomes a necessity to stand back, recognize that moment, and do some assessment about how to proceed forward.

The attainment of power is not always bad. In fact, in most organizational systems it is a necessity if anything is going to be accomplished. So just having power over others is, in itself, neutral. The way in which one uses that power is the determinant of value.

When an individual intentionally chooses to sacrifice someone over whom he or she has power by throwing them under the bus it is seldom an accidental or unconscious act. It is clear to the person in power that there is some value to be attained by sacrificing the other person and they are expendable. That, in itself, is evil. It is comparable to playing God.

There is a sense of having deemed the victim to have been of no value...a piece of trash. That is unacceptable. Every living person has value. Sometimes individuals are twisted or sick and are in need of having control imposed upon them. But simply trashing them...throwing them under the bus...is something else.

The term is used in a variety of scenarios ranging from the business world to the world of politics. People within families or organizations are sacrificed frequently to benefit someone else. In sports, the arts, academia, and even religious communities one can find examples of someone climbing the ladder to success, clambering over the wasted bodies of those who have been thrown under the bus. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to spot the violation. And the first persons to recognize it are the victims who know what it feels like to be betrayed at the hands of someone in power over them.

Among the cliches to have found their way into the American English language over the past few years, this one deserves a special recognition. It is exceptionally effective in describing a despicable act.

Photo Credit: http://philsbackupsite.wordpress.com/2009/06/25/

THE BUCK STOPS...

The night hasn't finished its long and restless vigil quite yet. No poetic thunderstorms or Clintonian phone calls at 3:00 a.m. Just a sleepless and disturbing expanse of darkness and silence which refuses to produce much-needed refreshment to a troubled President.

Finally acknowledging the night as the winner of the battle, the President slips on his slippers and robe and shuffles from the room to the sanctuary of the living quarters where a glass of juice quenches his dry throat. Thumbing through a pile of required reading doesn't appeal to him, so he crosses to the window to gaze out on an empty garden, illuminated only for security. The winter's surprise of a blanket of snow has obscured every shrub and tree, refusing to allow even the beauty of a well-preened garden to bring peace to his troubled heart.

"Gets a little lonely, doesn't it?" the voice from the shadows asks.

Jolted by the sound, the President's heart skips a beat and a moment of fear grips his otherwise unshaken demeanor.

"Who's there?" he manages to speak.

"Just a fellow traveler who thought a late-night conversation might be in order," the voice responded. The speaker stepped from the shadows into the dim light of the single illuminated lamp on the table hugging the sofa. "To use a phrase I hear a lot these days, 'Been there...done it.' "

The President couldn't believe his eyes.

"President Truman? Is that you?"

"Oh come on, Barack, let's drop the formalities. I know that it bothers you as much as it did me to have all that 'Mr. President' stuff. I'm Harry, for God's sake."

A slight smile crosses Obama's face, only superficially masking his anxiety at experiencing a ghost. It isn't exactly in his theological makeup to acknowledge the existence of such beings. But at this moment, it is clear that he is sharing a space with the long-deceased former President and former resident of this same house.

"Why are you here?" he manages to stammer.

"That's not the most hospitable thing I've ever heard," Harry stated bluntly, "but I'll forgive you this time. I suspect seeing me like this isn't something that you would expect. I thought it was time to drop in on you, and the others agreed that the timing was right. I was selected to bring the message."

"The others? There's a group of you?"

Harry nodded and took off his straw fedora and placed it on a chair.

"Yes, we get together all the time. It's amazing how we have found that we have so much in common now that we are away from the battleground of politics. I think it's fair to say that we are more alike in our thinking than anyone would believe...even you."

Barack gestured to a chair and then allowed himself to collapse onto the sofa, his legs feeling a little queasy.

"What did you mean when you said, they thought the timing was right?"

"Well," Harry said, "we wanted to wait until the glamour of your election wore off and you were able to hear my words in your head and your heart. That first year is a tough one, sorting out all that crap that came up during the campaign. We think you've been handed enough reality lately to be open to a suggestion or two."

"By all means. Let her rip," Barack quipped. "I'm always open to suggestion."

"A little too much, as a matter of fact," Harry responded without a moment's pause. "That's one of the points they want me to make. Cut the bipartisan baloney and get on with the business of being the elected Chief Executive of this crazy country. You're wasting your time trying to create a legacy of mediator between the right and the left. It ain't gonna happen, as we used to say in Missouri."

"I'm beginning to get that picture," President Obama agreed.

"You could never tell it from what you're saying out there, Barack. Your words and your gut don't seem to be in sync. It's like you don't believe you were elected. For God's sake, it was a landslide! The people of this country were serious when they voted for you in massive numbers. You excited a part of this country that has never spoken out before. But it feels like you've forgotten the sound of their voices and the tears in their eyes when you were elected. They think you've forgotten them."

Barack slumped into the cushions of the sofa. For the next twenty minutes the former President pummelled him with advice, much of which smarted beyond anything anyone had said to him in a long time. Finally, however, it was time for Truman to go. The light of day was emerging, and soon the room would be filled with the sound of children's voices and a staff prepared to provide for Obama's every need.

"One last thing...a personal note," Truman said. "Get on with that stupid 'Don't ask, don't tell' thing. If necessary, use your executive privilege to make it happen. Don't wait for everyone to agree with you. They never will. I had to swallow and take the abuse when I signed the document allowing Negroes to serve openly. Best thing I ever did. Your people are waiting, and you're the only one who can give them what they want. Too much rancor in the Congress, and that isn't going to change right away, I'm sorry to tell you."

Obama nodded in agreement. "One question. Did you really say 'The buck stops here?' "

"Doesn't matter, Barack. You know it's true. Get on with it."

President Obama looked out the window at the growing light of day. When he looked back at President Truman, there was no one there. Message delivered.


Graphic credit: www.ng.mil/.../presidential/truman.html

CHAMPION: first among all contestants or competitors.

Evan Lysacek brought home the gold medal to the United States in the Men's Figure Skating category of the 2010 Winter Olympics on Thursday evening. Not surprisingly, he was then thrust into the middle of a controversy, requiring him to defend his medal by the Russians who wanted to write new rules. Because he didn't attempt a quad, the controversial four-spin jump, he wasn't qualified to be named the Champion, they declared.

The quad has become a highly-touted maneuver accomplished gracefully by limited numbers of figure skaters over the past decade of competition. Lysacek has completed the quad on a number of occasions, but chose to eliminate it from his performance, concentrating instead on perfecting other maneuvers. According to Dick Button and Scott Hamilton, former gold medal winners and respected commentators on the sport, Lysacek won by skating a perfect performance which included grace, interpretation, costuming, athleticism, and great skill. From their perspective, as reported in an interview with Bob Costas of NBC Sports, this achievement more than qualified him for the gold and did not require the inclusion of a specific jump. It was his overall performance, they said, which impressed the judges.

I'm one of those who is interested in figure skating every four years. I used to be more attentive to the sport when we spent more time in Lake Placid, NY, the site of the 1932 and 1980 Olympics. It is also the site of one of the US Olympic Training Centers, so there is skating year round. We came to know some of the skaters "up front and personal" as regular spectators at their training events and competitions. The hard work and athletic training they undergo is grueling and impressive. By the time they get to the level of Olympic competition they have devoted a huge amount of their young lives to the sport. With all the athletic preparation there develops a philosophical perspective as well. Lysacek is one of the more articulate spokespersons for that aspect, and is redeeming himself with great skill on the international media circuit. The criticism of the Russians will not diminish his accomplishments in his mind or in the minds of those who listen to him. He is a champion in the best sense of the word.

The point of his championship is well worth noting: a person is acknowledged to be a champion by an overall performance, not because of one maneuver. The intrusiveness of the media into the personal lives of public figures can appear to deny this. A personal flaw can seem to destroy a champion's overall performance. The failure of a champion to perform as a person or group studying the champion deems necessary (even though they may not be experts in the field) can appear to scuttle that person's accomplishments. What a shame.

At one point in my life I was at an event where Archbishop Desmond Tutu said something which has stuck with me. To paraphrase it from my memory, he said "People in the Western World tend to break things down into small segments and focus upon them to make value statements about quality or lack of quality. We, however, who hold a more Eastern perspective, have learned to see things as a whole, and to evaluate them as a total entity rather than a gathering of small pieces." I may not have the exact words, but you get the point he was making.

I think it applies to this Olympic moment, but I think it applies to other moments in our lives as well.

COLD: the absence of heat

My wife and I have a running issue over the definition of the word cold. I have to admit that the one I have given in the title to this posting is my own, based upon what I have claimed is a technical explanation for why we experience cold. I don't know how much weight it would hold in a scientific debate, but it wins our humorous disagreement from time to time.

The fact is that there are lots of definitions for the word. Writers of newspaper articles keep suggesting that there are hundreds of words in the Inuit language for differing meanings of cold. Maybe. In American English I can attest to the fact that its meaning varies, depending upon the circumstances. Here is just a sampling:

* Cold: a noun defining a brief illness (hopefully) in which your nose runs, your head aches, your chest aches, and you feel like crap.

* Cold: an adjective which describes what it feels like in August when you sit in an Applebee's Restaurant wearing summer clothes and the air conditioning is cranking.

* Cold: the look on Nancy Pelosi's face when a Republican Member of Congress shouts out "You lied!" during a President's speech.

* Cold: your luke-warm coffee when someone stops by your table to tell you an extended story about something that you could care less about.

* Cold: Andy Rautins (very, very rarely) when he can't hit a three point shot for Syracuse University.

* Cold: Three-term Republicans blaming the current administration for a bloated annual budget because it includes the cost of two running wars in the accounting.

* Cold: Tiger's personal credibility among intelligent women.

* Cold: The tile floor in our shower when you are the first one to use it in the morning.

* Cold: That feeling that runs down your spine when you sort the mail and see a personal letter from the IRS.

* Cold: What you feel when you sit in front of your computer ready to write a blog posting and your mind is blank.

And of course: Cold: the temperature in your foyer when you open the door and let the heat escape into the frigid outdoors. (Or, as my wife would say, "When you open the door and let the frigid air into the house.")

*** Cold: The stare my wife gives me when I claim I won the point.

Whatever....

Graphic Credit: www.enter.net/~skimmer/coldwater.html

RHINOCEROS to LION KING

In 1969 I experienced a major change in theatrical mind-set when I attended a performance of Ianesco's Rhinoceros at a theatre in New Haven, Connecticut. It was my first exposure to the genre of drama which explored the absurd as a medium of expression. My theatrical repertoire was shaken and enhanced at the same time.

When I think about that production of Rhinoceros I am immediately transported to the moment when a huge rhino comes charging down the aisle of the theatre just about a foot to my left shoulder. I am shocked, frightened, and exhilarated...all at the same time. It is the first time ever that I have experienced that use of the audience space in so profound a manner. The design of the costume is extraordinary, making the persona of the animal a reality. I remember reflecting after the production that I never, for a moment, saw a man in a rhino costume; the rhino was a real being from that first chilling moment.

Take a time-crossing machine to February 16, 2010, and I find myself in the Boston Opera House,one of the most beautiful theatres I have ever seen. The curtain lifts on Disney's Lion King, the Broadway musical. An African woman with a powerful stage voice sets the stage for my presence in central Africa.

Suddenly, down the aisle comes a herd of African animals, again only a couple of yards from my left shoulder. This time I am "protected" by two people to my left who are as enthralled by the spectacle as I am. My wife, who has seen the show in San Francisco, has shielded me mercifully from the details, so it is as dramatic a moment as that evening in 1969 when I was spared from being trampled by a rhinoceros in New Haven.

What is to follow is not nearly as "absurd" as Ianesco's presentation, but, at the same time, I find myself transported to a place where animals are animals, and their human imitators fade into obscurity. It is a testimony to the outstanding performances of the actors, however, that the transition is effective and complete. Lions, hyenas, wart hogs and giraffes occupy the stage for nearly three glorious hours. My fantasy "fix" is fulfilled.

I marvel at the artistry of both productions. They are as different as night and day, yet they both have elements of the absurd. Both are based upon deeply philosophical questions about the meaning of life. Rhinoceros is far more pessimistic than Lion King, however. The use of imagery allows me to abandon any labelling or identification with actual persons or movements and to wallow in the depth of the message without judgment. It is refreshing.

I'm not one who loves musicals. To be more honest, I really don't like musicals. There are a few exceptions which have excited me. Lion King is one of them.


Photo Credits: Rhino photo: boiteaoutils.blogspot.com/2008_09_01_archive.html/ Lion King photo: http://kublia.lionking.org/tlkob/GALLERY.HTML

DRUG: to have dragged something across the floor

It must be a huge, complex enterprise to try to learn American English as a second language. We, for whom American English is our natural tongue, take for granted the complexities of the language, overlooking the myriad of exceptions and mis-conceptions which lace themselves through everyday speech.

I stumbled across this thought yesterday when I was watching a movie in which the term "drug" was used...as in "I drug it across the floor." It was intended as a form of the past tense of the word "drag." My immediate reaction was that I think the character meant to say "I dragged it across the floor." And then I began to wonder if I was correct. So I pulled out my recently-purchased Garner's Modern American Usage to check it out. Sure enough, it is allowed as a usage within a dialect from Southern United States. They even reference President Clinton as one who has been known to use the term "drug." My reading of the notation in Garner's however, is that the reference is descriptive and not prescriptive. That is to say, Garner acknowledges that it is used, but refrains from saying it is the best use of the term.

I had a similar response when watching the news the other night and the anchor talked about a convict who "plead" guilty at his arraignment. I'm not sure if her notes read "plead" or "pled." They are homonyms, pronounced the same. I would have said "pleaded." Again, Garner notes that my choice is preferred, but that the other two terms are used in common American English. He stops short of saying that the terms "plead" and "pled" are wrong.

We seem to be living in a permissive age where language is evolving rapidly and previously-scorned usages are acknowledged as being "okay" simply because a lot of people use them. While I am coming to acknowledge that American English is evolving, and that there is no prohibition against it, I have to note that I am increasingly uncomfortable with an easy acceptance of jarring usage.

The examples above have to do with the use of the past tense of words. It is the place where I sense the most jarring use of what I would call "sloppy language." That is my own decision, based as much upon my gut reaction as my mental analysis. I hate to hear someone say "orientated" when they should have said "oriented." Thanks to the military for that violation of grammar! I cringe when people say "Her and I went to the movies." I learned the English language at a time when there were some things that were depicted as "wrong usage." Today, increasingly, it is not politically correct to label anything as "wrong."

As I have said before, I have no control over others' uses of language. But I can choose to employ words which I believe enhance communication without dropping to the lowest common denominator.


Photo Credit: www.warshooter.com/.../060126-253A.jpg

AMERICA'S CUP: back page news?

I may well be the only person in Rhode Island who doesn't know how to sail. It wasn't part of my childhood, and prior to my mid-adulthood I didn't know a single person who talked about sailing. Looking back on it, I suspect there were some friends who sailed, but, as I have said, they didn't talk about it...at least around me.

My first experience with sailing came in the early 80's when a friend took my family out on a magnificent sailing vessel to sail around Little Cranberry Island off the coast of Maine. I was scared to death. When the ship keeled up and I found myself parallel to the surface of the water my prayer life improved dramatically. Later sailing experiences on one of the Finger Lakes proved less harrowing, but I found myself more comfortable below with a wine cooler than on the deck. I discovered that I have a natural fear of the water, probably dating back to an experience of my childhood when I came close to drowning. (A future blog posting.)

Consequently, my knowledge of sailing and my awareness of its finer moments is limited. However, living in Rhode Island means knowing that the America's Cup races are happening. Newport is the spiritual home of the America's Cup and many of the winning vessels over the past 33 races have been built in Bristol. We spend a lot of time in Newport these days, so my interest in the America's Cup is somewhat higher than one might have expected.

When the victory of the BMW Oracle was relegated to the back page of the Providence Journal sports section, therefore, I was shocked. Basketball, hockey, baseball and Olympic news filled the pages while the announcement that the United States had re-captured the America's Cup was found on the back page, and the article was lifted from another source.

I had to wonder what the sailing community in Rhode Island would have to say about this. As one of the more successful industries in a state with a miserable economy, it is inconceivable that this historic event, comparable to the World Series in baseball, the Masters Tournament in golf, and the NCAA Final Four in basketball, was not covered and was not given a more prominent place in the paper.

It remains to be seen whether the letters to the editor will pick up on this theme, or whether the sailing community has given up on the Journal altogether and doesn't really care.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.bmw.com/

VIRTUOUS IGNORANCE: another way of saying "anti-intellectual"

David Akin, in a recent posting on his On the Hill blog, referred to Jonathan Raban's book review of Sarah Palin's memoir Going Rogue in New York Review of Books. (Isn't that just about the most hyperlinked sentence ever?) In that blog posting he identified the words virtuous ignorance,
a phrase coming to mean the intentional employment of ignorance for a seemingly higher purpose. Sarah Palin is the poster girl of that movement.

Palin's speeches, comments, and writings are laced with untruths and innuendo which skirt the truth to the degree that increasingly it is difficult to separate truth from fiction. In my opinion, that is not unintentional. Her ability to employ a "turn-it-on/turn-it-off" folksy dialect to enhance her populist banter is a tool she uses very effectively in portraying herself as the peoples' guardian of political virtue. Many, many people love it. It feeds a wave of anti-intellectualism which is destructive and frightening.

If this were a peaceful era in which the national debates centered on obscure or insignificant issues, one might be amused by her virtuous ignorance. We could debate creationism and evolution until the cows come home. Such issues lend themselves to her style.

But the issues of war, international relations, the economy, health care and national security do not fare well in an anti-intellectual atmosphere. This is time for careful thought, honest research and intelligence, and review of options which are difficult and require global perspective. Virtuous ignorance as employed by Palin and her colleagues only serves to cloud the issues, mask them with superstition and fear-mongering, and wallow in folksy chit-chat which accomplishes nothing of significance. On another level, however, this enterprise slows down government process, delays effective legislation, and undermines the confidence of the people in their government.

Perhaps the use of terms like intellectual and intelligence create an opportunity for such violations of integrity. They are words which are "off-putting" to many people, reflecting an elitism which separates classes of the population. That is unfortunate, because they are also words which describe vital elements of good government. They are not meant to denigrate anyone, but to assure the voting population that their elected leaders are employing due diligence in the pursuit of peace, economic stability, and social justice.

A great bulk of the American populace is confused, angry and disappointed in the way life is unfolding at this moment in history. Those qualities are not restricted to conservative types or members of the Tea Party community. They cry out for clarity and signs of progress. But simplistic answers are not sufficient in such perilous times. To the contrary, the solutions to today's problems require keen minds, careful diplomacy and difficult choices. Virtuous ignorance is not a welcome attribute.


Photo courtesy of: www.creationism.org"

SAINT VALENTINE'S DAY

The origin of this holiday is murky, but its contemporary observance is clear. This is a day when love is celebrated. While it has become a very commercial observance, it remains a day on which we take a breath, step away from difficult issues and reach out and touch those we love. I'm one of those who thinks that "simpler is better" expresses it best.

Consequently, a carefully chosen card, a quiet dinner out...that's how my wife and I observe this day. She and I have a very clear understanding of our love for each other, and expensive jewelry would somewhat confuse that understanding. But I am a firm believer in "different strokes for different folks." Whichever means you have for expressing your love today, go for it.

Bathymetry: plumbing the depths to get to the bottom

I stumbled onto this word recently and found it interesting. The idea of mapping the bottom of a lake the size of one of the Great Lakes or the bottom of the ocean caught my imagination, so I investigated it further. There is amazing technology available these days to do this with great accuracy.

My curiosity revolved around the lack of technology prior to the current era. I wonder how they did it without lasers and modern equipment. My imagination and limited technological information led me to the familiar realm of literature, and...of course...I landed on the person of Samuel Clemens. We are told that he developed his pen name, Mark Twain, on hearing the crew of Mississippi river boats call out those words when measuring the depth of the water. The rope they used sank to the bottom because it was weighted, and there were knots on the rope to measure the number of fathoms beneath the river boat. When it hit the second knot, they called out "mark twain"...meaning second fathom. Not very sophisticated, but it provided us with a wonderfully colorful name attached to one of the great people of our society's history. I suspect Clemons never heard the word bathymetry; my resource says that it is a word that emerged into our lexicon in the 1860's.

Just pursuing this word led me to the phrase, "plumbing the depths" which has to have come from the same practice. Relating it to the story of Samuel Clemens/Mark Twain helps to get the picture of what the phrase means. We use the phrase fairly commonly in the writing produced today. It has come to mean something more than a navigational aid, however. More commonly, it means to explore the deeper meaning of a subject, trying to get "to the bottom" of a concept.

Investigative reporting is supposed to be about plumbing the depths, but I fear that in many cases the reporter is satisfied too early in the process, and jumps on a discovery only part way to the bottom. I am increasingly wary of investigative reports that are published very quickly after an event. When further investigation reveals that a first impression was inaccurate, the corrections published are ineffective in adjusting the perceptions of the public.

I lived in a town many years ago where there was an abundance of persons with emotional or mental limitations. When a nearby Developmental Center began to close down and started releasing long-term residents into the community, the character of the community changed dramatically. The former residents suffered from all kinds of mishaps and false starts in their attempts to adapt to life "on the outside."

One young man known to me was accused of rape and imprisoned rapidly. The newspapers and other media jumped on the story and convicted him quickly. At the same time, the entire population of former residents of the Developmental Center was convicted by the published stories. I was one of numerous citizens who knew that there was something wrong with the reports. This young man had a well developed moral fibre and respected the difference between right and wrong. Our defense of him was seen as liberal softness on crime.

When it was discovered that the victim of the alleged rape had lied to avoid detection by her parents that she was pregnant from having had sexual relations with a forbidden boyfriend the print media printed small corrections to their story, hidden well into the pages of the newspapers. The young man was released from jail, but his reputation had been destroyed. With the help of some friends, he relocated to another part of the country where he lived a healthy and productive life. But he was emotionally scarred by the experience.

The depths of the story had not been plumbed appropriately. The bottom was not sought...just enough information to make a headline. Precautionary terms such as alleged were not employed, and anecdotal commentary by people who knew the young man were derided instead of reported as significant input.


I'm one of those who believes that it is inappropriate to publish the name and personal information about a suspected rapist prior to the point where a confession or incontrovertible evidence has been obtained. The media appropriately withholds the name of the victim. I believe it is important to withhold the name of the alleged rapist as well.

This may seem like a long way from bathymetry to Mark Twain, to plumbing the depths to faulty investigative reporting. But that's how my mind works.

Graphic Credit: Copyright 1996/2009 Nautical Know How, Inc.

OVERABUNDANCE: too much!

We wanted to say "Thank You" to our hosts. Thanks for hospitality is something for which there is no real easy way to show gratitude. People have disrupted their lives, opened their privacy to invasion, and above all...have worked hard to make sure our comfort needs have been met. This was an exceptionally good experience for us; the sacrifices on our behalf have been visible.

To show our thanks we took the family out to dinner. We settled on a restaurant that our hosts had not frequented, but the reports were good. They turned out to be accurate. It was a fun place, filled with lots of appreciative customers, with a great bar, attractive surroundings, and filled with the smells of good food. Our noses didn't let us down. The food was excellent. Overall, it was a very successful evening...and the check was much less than we expected.

However...and this is a big however...the quantity of food served each of us was unbelievably excessive. We should have been suspicious when the appetizers came and they were the size of a small mountain. Great food, but way, way too much.

Then the entrees arrived and I began to look around to see who else would be joining us for dinner. My chicken parm could have fed three people. We all started laughing at the overabundance of food and the likelihood that Seamus, the family dog, was going to be the recipient of great "doggie boxes." In the end, the boxes we took back to the house were huge...enough meals for several days.

As we were packing the left-over food into the take home boxes, we commented that we wished we could ship it off to Haiti. It was not really as flippant a comment as you might expect. We in the group had some experience with poverty and disaster and knew that having this excess food from one meal was obscene when balanced against the needs of people in earthquake-ravaged Haiti. Of course the idea of sending it to Haiti was impossible, and served more as a comment than anything else. But there was a sense of guilt in all of our commentary.

Someone commented that Michelle Obama, who has just undertaken an initiative to address childhood obesity, would be horrified to think that someone might actually eat all the food that was served. The only children at the table were adult, professional children, but the point was not lost.

Opulence in a society takes many forms. Living into the overabundance of food without recognizing its destructive quality is one way in which opulence affects us with such ease. I'm not sure how we make that point without sounding sour and bitchy. Maybe a note in the mail to the management of the restaurant? A letter to the editor? A boycott of a great restaurant which may only need a comment to correct its practices?

The reality is that some people want that overabundance and may frequent that restaurant specifically because they want those "doggie boxes" at the end of the meal. I have to be careful about judgment. And this restaurant is not the focus of my comments. It is our society as a whole which lives into overabundance and the unhealthy, obscene results of it.

The bottom line about last night is that it was an enjoyable evening which, I believe, adequately expressed our thanks to the host family. We laughed at jokes, enjoyed the restaurant, and ended the evening with a feeling of well-being. My words this morning are just after-thoughts which needed to be spoken, probably to ease my guilt. Every good thing doesn't need a negative comment to balance it out. But it's hard these days not to be aware of the contrast between opulence and poverty.


Photo Credit:www.pdphoto.org/PictureDetail.php?mat=&pg=6924

FANATIC: A person marked or motivated by an extreme, unreasoning enthusiasm, as for a cause.

Yes, it is true that the word fan is derived from shortening the word fanatic. I can attest to the connect between the two words.

More than 24,000 crazed, otherwise healthy people packed themselves into the Carrier Dome at Syracuse University last night to watch Syracuse sneak away with a basketball victory over The University of Connecticut. That may seem like a huge number for a midweek game between a highly-ranked team and one struggling to get any attention.

But it's only a shadow of what is yet to come. Tickets for the upcoming SU/Villanova game have been sold out for a week, and it is estimated that more than 34,000 people will return to the Carrier Dome to scream, eat Dome Dogs, abandon their usually civil proprieties, and demonstrate their most outrageous orange-colored attire. These attorneys, physicians, engineers, librarians, postal clerks, bartenders, CEOs and maintenance workers will scream together, embrace wildly even though they don't know each other, and posture for national television in garb and and decorum which may embarrass themselves when it appears on the sports page of their hometown newspaper. They are fans/fanatics. Nothing can stop them...except an occasional weak season.

There is something about being a sports fan that borders on insanity. It can be a temporary suspension of propriety, emboldened by a need to express one's devotion to a simplistic cause. But no matter how intellectual I can be about seeking the root causes of sports fanaticism,there remains something indiscernible...something raw and primitive inside a sports fan that emerges when donning an orange sweater, trudging blocks of city streets to get from a parking spot to an uncomfortable three hour seat, eating outrageously unhealthy food, consuming beverages which one convinces himself taste good, and releasing primitive behavior that has been forming for days prior to the game.

Fanaticism isn't restricted to sports, and it isn't always fun. I will reserve my Tea Party parallels for another posting. But for one evening, having driven six hours to get there, I found myself re-embraced by more than 24,000 best friends whose names I don't know, and who have never heard of me. I became a fan. I wasn't nearly as outrageous as most of my "friends" were. On a scale of 1-10, with one being boring and 10 being eligible for institutionalization, I was about a 2.

What fun, in the midst of economic, political, global issues that boggle the mind, to pull out my orange sweater and scream until my voice was raw. And now, back to normal....

Dictionary Credit: The American Heritage® Dictionary of the English Language, Fourth Edition
Copyright © 2009 by Houghton Mifflin Company.
Published by Houghton Mifflin Company. All rights reserved
Photo Credit: : www.flickr.com/photos/brianeden/3305398518/

PRE-DAWN: that welcome period before the sun rises and the world awakens

Several years ago we made our first visit to Albuquerque, New Mexico. In the middle of the night we climbed into a car with young friends and drove to Socoro, where the Bosque del Apache National Wildlife Refuge is located. If you've never been there, it should be on your "bucket list." The secret is to get there before dawn, however, so you don't miss "The Ascension"...a daily rising up of thousands of snow geese from their sleeping quarters into the sky...one of the most beautiful sights I have ever seen. Something about the changing color of the sky stimulates them and on a signal apart from any human sound or inspiration, the sky is filled suddenly with these magnificent creatures. They soar above the refuge in a dramatic curtain call to the night before settling into a corn field where they undertake the true meaning of breakfast, breaking their night-long fast. Our young ornithological friends told us that there could be as many as 20,000 snow geese in a single ascension.

Part of my respect for that memory is my own appreciation for the pre-dawn period of time. As I write this it is 5:40 a.m. and I have been up for an hour. The awesome quiet, coupled with the beauty of the dark sky and sparse human sounds is the perfect time for me to write. I find my mind is clearer than usual, my energy is high, and my sense of well-being is profound. All of that may deteriorate as the day progresses, but I'm learning how to capture it and sprinkle it out sparingly throughout an increasingly-busy day. In a month or so I will re-learn how to share this spectacular time of day with song birds who will join me in celebrating the new day. But for now, in a frigid mid-winter, I'm the only being awake and functioning in the dark world which surrounds me.

I know that isn't true, but it feels that way. I almost resent the occasional shifting of gears in a truck on the street below the windows of our sun room. The lonesome wail of a distant siren tells me that others share this time of day with me as an ambulance streams to a nearby hospital. On Tuesday mornings the trash collectors begin their vital tasks right about now. The newspapers have been delivered already, their plop having disturbed the silence of pre-dawn some time ago. And on Mondays the sound of clanking glass as our home-delivered milk (what a treat) arrives in our milk box, led there by a delivery person who guides himself to our door with a flashlight so as to not disturb the sleeping neighbors with his truck lights. I suspect he and I share a similar respect for the pre-dawn beauty.

Today it will snow. The meteorologists have predicted a sizeable accumulation in what I hope is the last measureable snow of the season. We hope to escape it as we are heading off to visit friends in a place where this storm will not make its presence known. When snow starts in the middle of the night it adds even more to the quiet beauty of pre-dawn. Today that isn't the case. The storm is holding off until we are well on the road and away from the accumulation.

For now, I will finish this posting and sit for a few minutes just enjoying the peace and quiet of the pre-dawn. All too soon the business of packing the car and leaving will, by necessity, signal a new mode for the day. My hope is that the beauty of this hour can find a place in our car as we speed away into a new day.


Photo credit: Suzi McGregor at http://photo.net/photodb/photo?photo_id=8514685

MAELSTROM:a restless, disordered, or tumultuous state of affairs

Searching for the right word to describe a situation is not always an easy task. A dictionary, thesaurus, or online resource can be of help if I know where I'm going and have a vague idea of the concept I'm trying to describe. But by far the richest resource for discovering words like maelstrom is the massive world of literature.

Probably nobody did more for the word maelstrom than Edgar Allan Poe whose dark and ominous writings left indelible imprints of doom and gloom on the reader. Visions of sinking into whirlpools never to be seen again could keep any youthful reader awake all night. In most of the use of maelstrom in literature like Poe's the word is used as a synonym for whirlpool...a vicious, raging whirl of ocean waters that sucks whole ships into a place of non-existence.

In more recent literature and other common usage, maelstrom has been expanded to mean a situation which is swirling out of control. While it is ideally suited to political commentary, it is also used commonly in such areas as family therapy, sociological analysis, and economic reporting. It could have been applied to the 2009 economic turmoil, for instance, although I have to admit that I don't remember reading a single report in which it was employed.

Maelstrom carries with it the implication that things are out of control. As in an oceanic whirlpool, the waters are surging, the winds are ferocious, and the force of downward spiral is unable to be avoided. Similarly, in a political, sociological, or economic maelstrom the ability of even the strongest leadership is incapable of averting disaster.

I am not inclined to use the word maelstrom to describe our current political or economic climate. To do so would imply a degree of fatalism which is neither accurate or helpful. There are those who seem to delight in doing so, however, and will spare no language to embolden the pessimism which prevails in some circles of American culture in 2010. The result is a self-referential weakening of the very correctives which are capable of pulling us from the storms which rage on Wall Street, in the economic markets around the world, and in the difficult settings of Main Street and County Road.

Dr. Norman Vincent Peale is best remembered for his book, The Power of Positive Thinking. While some dismiss his work as being simplistic, refuting the idea that one's embracing of a positive mindset can help in bringing about a positive result, there is much to be said about refusing to cave in to negativity and allowing it to affect the direction of one's life and one's energies.

The maelstrom which grieves me at this moment in 2010 is the swirl of negativity, gossip, name-calling, slander and embracing of gloom and doom among the most visible/aural people in our nation. It is destructive, just as a whirlpool can be destructive. I'm not suggesting that a twisting to naive wishful thinking will solve our serious problems. But I am convinced that our wallowing in negativity will only enhance the problems we face and further distance us from successful solutions.


Photo Credit: seekingalpha.com/article/108553-options-trade...
Definition Credit: Dictionary.com Unabridged
Based on the Random House Dictionary, © Random House, Inc. 2010.

DENOMINAL VERBS: going from noun to verb.

The New York Times Magazine carried a great article yesterday by Ben Zimmer entitled Podium. In anticipation of the opening of the 2010 Winter Olympics, Zimmer wrote about the use of two words we will hear a lot: podium and medal. Obviously. Podium refers to the place where awards are distributed after an Olympic event and medal is the item which is being awarded. They come in either bronze, silver or gold.

But Zimmer's article identifies a new use for the two nouns. They have undergone surgery to become verbs. It turns out that it is okay now to say an Olympic athlete "medaled" and that he or she "podiumed" to receive the medal. Zimmer calls this process the act of creating denominal verbs. It turns out to be a linguistic phenomenon which has been around for quite a while.

I notice denominal verbs with somewhat of a neutral emotion. They don't bother me as much as other linguistic patterns. Remember, I'm the one who still finds himself bothered by "split infinitives" in spite of my recent discovery that there is no recognized rule forbidding their use. (Click on my previous blog, Eavesdropping....) So there are some things in linguistic use over which I get emotional. For some reason, this isn't one of them. I Google and blog right along with the rest of the world, in spite of the fact that neither of those words began its life as a verb.

As opposed to being incensed about word use (for the most part) I am amused by departures from the norm.

Yesterday, for instance, I happened upon a heated discussion between my good friend, Lee, and one of his customers. The customer was ranting at Lee about something. It turns out that he couldn't identify the root cause of the rant. A group of his co-workers had assembled to attempt to sort it out in a light-hearted respite from a very hectic surge of business. Lee said to us, "We were just conversating and everything fell apart."

Conversating? Where did that come from? We laughed about the new word he had created out of frustration. I doubt that it is a word which will be perpetuated by anyone, except to tease Lee about it when possible. There's no reason to get negative about the use of a word in an unusual and inappropriate way. It was fun.

I like the Winter Olympics, so I expect I'll be watching a lot of it in the next few weeks. I'll probably hear the words podiumed and medaled used in their newly-minted forms. I doubt that I will adopt them into my own lexicon. I was standing on the thick ice of Mirror Lake in Lake Placid in 1980 when Eric Heiden received his fifth gold medal for speed skating. It didn't occur to me to use the term that he had "medaled" at that historic moment, and just a thousand feet away the USA Olympic Hockey team was making history as well. They "won the Gold Medal" to the delight of millions of Americans. I never experienced the urge to exclaim that they had "medaled."

So it would seem that these two words have squeezed their way into the common lexicon of sports announcers, journalists, and others who discuss the Olympics. You will find me conversating about it without using those two words.

GraphCredit: http://pronunciationmatters.blogspot.com/2009/10/verb-or-noun.htmlic

HIATUS: a break or interruption in the continuity of a work, series, or action

Sometimes you welcome them and celebrate their presence. At other times they impose themselves upon you and bring some pain and suffering. Relatives or "long lost friends?" No, I'm talking about those breaks which interrupt the flow of creative juices. The word for them is hiatus.

They happen almost without warning. You get up at the regular hour, go through the normal pre-writing routines, stretch your arms and fingers... and then *@%#$. It isn't there. Nothing comes to your mind. You are blank. Words which usually flow freely are frozen in wordspace. A hiatus attack has taken place, and there is no software program which will prevent it, search it out and destroy it, or neutralize it. You've been hit, and the damage has been done.

Thankfully, hiatus assumes that a gap exists. Therefore, there is an end to the previous flow of creativity and the beginning of another season of writing. The hiatus you have entered is not the end of writing...it is only a break.

There is no standard amount of time for a hiatus. Maybe it's a few seconds, hours, or days. Some writers talk about going through years when the creativity doesn't flow, but that's not a gap...that's a crisis! Some writers refer to it as "writer's block" but that makes it sound as if it only happens to writers. It is a very familiar phenomenon to artists, musicians, speech writers, and others in the creative industry.

I am not in a hiatus right now. To the contrary, I have great energy about my daily writing. Several fellow bloggers have said, "How long are you going to keep up the daily blog? When are you going to get serious and realize that you can't write every day?" I don't have a good answer for them, because the possibility of it seems so foreign that I can't imagine it happening in this venue.

I collect words. Literally. Every day I capture a few new words and record them on a list in my cellphone. I keep Post-Its at my desk. I collect newspaper and magazine articles which inspire me. I think the secret to it is to keep reading, keep listening, and staying open to fresh material.

My biggest problem on a daily basis is making a decision about which word I'm going to pursue that day. I'm very attentive to politics and the issues surrounding political situations. But I recognize that some people get tired of political talk, so I try to limit my obsession with politics to a couple or few days a week.

And, as you have guessed if you've been reading this blog, I like to pursue words and their meaning. I'm not nearly as sophisticated in that genre of postings as some of the wordsmiths writing blogs that I read daily. (I'm learning a great deal from them.) I'm more interested in the way that certain words inspire a train of thought. Like hiatus, for instance. Instead of spending a whole posting on the derivation of the word and its multiple meanings, I like to take this kind of a spin-out and explore the way the word leads me to an interesting place. For me, it's more about the trail than the arrival.

So, no...I'm not announcing a hiatus in publishing this blog. The changes I have been telling you are coming are not about frequency or abandonment. They are about visual changes and format changes which will allow me greater flexibility. They are about expanding my universe through the use of new cyber tools. The changes are almost complete. I need a tutorial in their use, and then...bang!!!...one day next week you will open this site and see something new.

Right now, however, I'm going to declare a hiatus and read the local paper.

Photo Credit: dctobc.com/2009/04/hiatus/

FAIRWAY: the safe, closely-cropped part of the golf course which swallows up my ball

I came to golf after spending my youth doing other things. I regret that. I think I might be a better golfer if I had taken it up when my body was slimmer, more flexible, and not quite as settled. I'm stretching the word fully when I say I'm a golfer; I should say I play golf. But, given all the excuses I can scrape up for why my game isn't better, I'm happy that I discovered golf at all.

I'm not terribly competitive when it comes to golf. I enjoy playing. I love to be out on a golf course with a friend who isn't there to embarrass or destroy me. We talk, joke around, tell stories, and solve the problems of the world. Sometimes we hit the ball well. Sometimes we don't. We do keep score, but it's never posted or added to a handicap list. I don't need someone to give me a handicap; I'm well aware of my handicaps without a second opinion.

I suppose I'm thinking about golf right about now because I'm tiring of winter. It hasn't been a terribly hard one in Providence, but I'm ready for it to be over. As I listen to the reports of the huge snow storm hitting the Mid-Atlantic area I feel the pain. That rascal, Phil, from Punxatawny, hasn't done my mood any good this week.

At this point, golf is a romantic fantasy. A good distance away from my last golf game I can afford to be romantic. But it won't be long before I remember the frustrations of the game. Chief among them is that for some strange reason I lose balls in the most unlikely places. Usually right on the fairway. I'm not half bad at hitting the fairway. Maybe that's because I don't have a powerful swing, so my ball goes a hundred yards or so down the fairway and then sits there rubbing its bruises, waiting to be hit again and again until it eventually lands on the green.

I gave up a long time ago thinking about "driving the green." I decided to become one of those players who is happy to take two or three swipes at the ball, take a double put, and settle for bogey or double bogey. Sometimes I hit a par, but usually not. I would be very happy to be a consistent bogey player.

But, back to the ball. I hit it from the tee. Spot the location on the fairway, pick up my bag and walk to the spot where I saw it land, and discover that my ball is not there. It isn't even close to there. Sometimes it is yards away from where I saw it land. It has to be something about the way my eyes work. Or maybe it is a symptom of the artist mindset I own; specifics and details are not in my skill set. I think in more ambiguous terms. Whatever it is, I lose a lot of balls out there on the fairway, right in front of my eyes.

And the idea that fairways are safe...it isn't true. They forgot to teach me about such things as sand traps, ponds,(shudder) brooks and streams, bushes and small trees, and other things so casually referred to as "hazards." I know them all up front and personal.

This morning I chose to write about golf and fairways and lost golf balls because I can see a metaphor being born. Having used up my allotted time and space on this piece, I won't go there today. But you can see it, can't you? How a safe fairway can turn out to be a place where your expectations are not met. Take it from there. You are now the author.

Photo: Rhode Island Country Club, Barrington, RI

RECALL: the instilling of fear into my already-frail consumer confidence

This is one of those "waiting for the other shoe to drop" moments. Over the past several days there have been many, many articles in the news about the discovery of production errors in the manufacture of Toyota vehicles. It seems as if there are serious problems with some Toyota vehicles and their accelerator pedals. Accidents have happened. People have died.

We own a Toyota. It's a brand new, 2010 Third Generation Prius. We bought it in June. I think we may have had the first one on the road in Providence. We enjoy the car and the mileage we are getting. At this point in our lives, that counts!

However, when the first notices about recall started to come out we rushed to the listing of models and breathed a sigh of relief. It didn't include Prius models. We had escaped the recall!

The other shoe dropped! Wednesday we began hearing rumors of a problem with Prius models...and...sure enough...yesterday it was announced that there is a unique problem with Prius involving the braking system. Our couple-blood pressure took off. We have had a braking problem ever since we bought the car. We are less than 1,000 miles away from a service call, so we thought we'd mention it then.

Oh, no. Yesterday I was on the phone with our service department (which we like very much) and I have an appointment on Monday. I could hear the service manager's voice drop when I told him what was happening. Want to bet I wasn't the first call he had received yesterday about this issue? I'm confident that they will fix the situation and we'll be okay. But the recall message is a scary thing.

Remember when they started using colors to signal the terror threat in the USA? The move to orange...and then red...was enough to fill a cardiac emergency room. That's what it feels like to me to hear the word "recall."

I suspect I have friends that are saying, "See, that's what you get for buying a foreign car." I can hear the chuckles all the way to Providence. But every two weeks or so when I fill the 10 gallon gas tank and it only costs me $20 or so, I tend to chuckle a little myself.

I'm happy to hear the reports that American-made cars have improved dramatically over the past year. I'm rooting for Detroit to make the comeback necessary to put the group Formerly Known as Big Three back on the stage again. I'm cheering for my friends at Ford, GM, and Chrysler to surge to the top in quality and environmental efficiency.

In the meantime, I'm looking forward to Monday when our Prius goes to the emergency room and gets treated. The diagnosis seems clear, and the prognosis is good. I'm looking forward to our Prius having a long and healthy life...at least until the car is paid off!

ADVANTAGE:the first point scored after deuce.

The language of tennis is too precious in some ways. To me, it reflects the genteel origins of the sport. "Love... deuce... advantage...." The words all sound like terms one might expect to be used in describing ballet positions. Not quite the same as "Scrum...foul ball...or piling on...."


However, as gentle as the tennis terms may be, anyone who has followed the sport knows that the words describe intense, aggressive, and demanding moments in athletic competition. When I watch the Wimbledon or the U.S. Open I am awed by the painfully aggressive athleticism of the competitors. The loud and audibly painful sound of grunting when returning the ball is hard to ignore. This is not a gentle sport.

It isn't tennis season yet. Snow still covers most of the sites of major competition in the United States and Europe. But the language of tennis came to mind when I was thinking about the U.S. Congress over the past week or so. The metaphor of tennis applies.

If, in tennis, a competitor fails to jump on the advantage moment she/he may lose the game. The score has been tied, and one player has just scored a tie-breaking point. Thus: advantage. It isn't the end of the game. No one has won yet. But the one player is one step ahead of the other and can smell a victory if other points can be attained without the other player scoring first.

The Democrats in Congress have the advantage position on legislation. They have a sizable majority of Members in the House of Representatives and a mind-blowing majority in the Senate. (Until Massachusetts scored, they were at set point and could have won the legislative game without any interference by the Republicans.)

However, there was a decision to be made: Is this game a tournament competition, in which victory is urgent, or are we just playing a casual, friendly game on a sunny Sunday afternoon where the exercise is more important than winning? From my perspective the latter was the choice. The Democrats seem to have chosen seeking friendly bipartisanship over legislative victory.

Having a scoring advantage(more than a majority) in Congress is a big deal. When both houses have that advantage one party has an opportunity to act in a way that is seldom the case. If a party believes in issues strongly enough to have campaigned on them and defeated other candidates with opposite goals, having a majority is an advantage to be seized upon and applied.

In the case of Congress, a party in that advantageous position needs to recognize that forging ahead and "scoring" legislative victories based upon that advantage can be risky. It may energize the opposing party and jeopardize future elections. It may lead to characterization of being a legislative bully, affecting the political perspective of the populace. (That is particularly true in the current Tea Party environment.)

However, massive social change within one's grasp is nothing to sneeze at. It is how previous generations of legislators brought about civil rights and economic recovery. The other possibility in taking advantage of that majority is to gain the respect and thanks of a nation which returns the party to power because of the strength of its "game."

There isn't a lot of time left for Democrats to hear the announcer's words, "Advantage: Democrats" sounding in their ears. This is no time to decide (mid-game) that gentle bipartisanship (which I believe is incapable of being attained in the current Congress) is better than winning legislative victories.

Health Care, economic reform, gay rights in the Military, and even education and immigration reform can be affected before the November elections if the Democrats in Congress remember that they have the advantage and it was given to them by a nation who wanted them to win the battles in Congress. This is not the time to put on a demonstration tournament in which everyone comes away smiling and cheery on the way to the refreshment tent. But it will take the Democrats remembering why they were elected; they need to stop focusing on their re-elections. They will not have this advantage after November.

Cartoon credit: www.johnhaggis.com/humour.php

FICTION: the class of literature comprising works of imaginative narration, esp. in prose form.

My mind has been filled with fiction over the past week. I have been in the process of finishing a piece of fiction which has absorbed me. As I "put it to bed", in the sense of putting the finishing touches on it, editing it yet once more, having spent days editing it over the past month, and sending it out to several people to read for me, I have found myself at a familiar place. I have to ask myself, "Is this it? Am I done? Is it ready to go to publication?" The temptation to keep editing is great.

I studied oil painting once with a very wise teacher. She was an artist of the old school, incorporating a good amount of philosophy of painting into a class already full of instruction in technique. I guess I'm more of an art philosophy person than an artist, because I remember her philosophical instructions more than her words about technique.

One thing she pounded into my brain: "When you are finished, you are finished. Put the brush down and walk away. The revisions you add from this point on will destroy the character of the painting." It was great advice. I find that I employ that advice even more in writing than I did in painting.

The secret was to know when you were at that point. As she so correctly taught, you know it more in your gut that you do in your brain. You stand back, look at the painting and say to yourself, "I'm done." It's not so much a rational decision as it is a gut feeling.

A second issue that raised itself when completing this piece is the distinction between my own story and pure fiction. I have come to believe that there is no such thing as pure fiction. Writing is not some abstract act that is disconnected from the writer. Rather, writing calls upon all of the personal qualities, skills, talents, and motivations which have been years in the making within the writer's person. A great word used in writing is roman a clef. It is a French word (pronounced "ro-mahn'-ah-clay") which describes a piece of fiction written around a personal experience. In many case the piece is a thinly-disguised story which is, in reality, a true story from one's own history.

As I said at the beginning of this piece, there may be no way to write fiction without it relating back to the writer's self. But that is different from a roman a clef. The fact that a writer's traits can be seen in a piece of fiction does not mean that the story is about the writer. A roman a clef is an intentional re-telling of a personal story.

I raise this because the piece I have just finished is so far from my own life, story, and childhood that I am amused by my having written it. Granted, I can see traits in the story that are familiar, and the locations chosen are places I have known personally. Apart from that, however, I feel as if I have just met a new person. I like him. And I like his story.

The bottom line: I like this book. I can't wait for it to be published .

Graphic Credit: www.outpost-daria.com/fan_fiction.html
Definition Credit: Dictionary.com Unabridged
Based on the Random House Dictionary, © Random House, Inc. 2010.

HAITI: What to do?

The tremors have stopped, both the physical ones from the earthquake and the emotional ones from the people of the world. Haiti is rapidly settling into that despised period in human disasters when they no longer occupy the front page of the major newspapers and the prime stories on the network news. The crisis in Haiti is sliding into its place next to the New Orleans hurricane and the Indonesian tsunami. The story of the earthquake will occupy us in a more tangential way for a short period of time, and then will wait for the end of year articles about the most significant news events of the year.

But in Haiti, the tragedy continues. More bodies are found, more orphans are created, more violence and anger erupts, and more despair over the future grows. A country that has wallowed in poverty and poor government for decades seeks solutions to its current disaster in an atmosphere which is incapable of providing solutions.

I was intrigued by calls for the U.S. to "take over" Haiti...as in annex it. There is something to be said for that emotionally, but when reality sets in, there's no rational foundation for such a tactic. This is no time for empire building..

So what is Haiti to do? Is there a way to turn their "lemon" into "lemonade?" At first glance the answer is a resounding "no!" All that can be done is to patch up the mess and return to life in a nation with no future.

However, there is a possibility. It is a little far-fetched, but it is out there, no less. What if Haiti was able to do that which other countries or cities have talked about, but have never had the ability to undertake? What if Haiti were to trash Port-au-Prince and the other destroyed municipalities, remove the rubble to a massive landfill someplace, and build a new city...or a new country? Instead of trying to patch up the overwhelming mess that confronts the Haitians today, lay out a plan for the construction of a beautiful new city that might just signal a turn-around for the nation.

There would be millions of jobs available in a place where previously there were none. There could be beauty where previously there was ugliness. A new economy of tourism could emerge in a place that has a natural beauty which has been obscured by a poverty-stricken deterioration. Instead of despair on the part of Haitians there could be hope and promise of a brighter future.

Where is the money going to come from to do all this? Entrepreneurs and capital venturists from all over the world would be foolish not to invest. A Caribbean Dubai is not necessary...just a sparkling clean, fresh-painted and colorfully decorated city with hotels, restaurants, shops, and tourist-based industry. Instead of cruise ships sneaking into the beaches and pretending that Port-au-Prince didn't exist, there could be a cruise capital created on the site of the current rubble. Nations, industries, speculators, and others could be the backbone for a new industry which would create a new hope.

Not many places have the opportunity to undertake such a wild dream. And that is not to say "thank goodness for the earthquake!" No such thing. That's lousy theology. But there is something to be said for seeing the promise that this provides for a nation that may be without a vision.


Photo Credit: JONATHAN TORGOVNIK/REPORTAGE FOR CNN

EDITING A FEW VERY RECENT POSTS

I spent some time yesterday scrolling through several recent posts in this blog. It became clear to me that there are some details of which I have become aware since posting them. These details help to "round out" the postings. And, truthfully, it allows me to move on without seeing them as totally complete. Written items will always have an emerging quality; there is no such thing as a "final word." But maybe you'll find this list interesting:

* (Holden Caulfield...1/31/10) I read an article in the New York Times yesterday that indicated that J. D. Salinger did, indeed, continue to write during his final years in seclusion in New Hampshire. He left his children a file cabinet with a color code indicating which pieces could be published, and when was the appropriate time for that to happen.

* (Aha!...1/30/10) It turns out that my initial feelings of ecstasy about the ease of publishing my new book online may be somewhat premature. Unless I choose to go the "self-publishing route" I will still find myself dealing with agents and publishing companies. Obviously...I need to do more research on the process.

* (Confirmation...1/29/10) A very interesting "further information" comes from the meeting of the President with the Republicans in a give and take session. It was candid, sometimes fiery, but...overall...a successful venture into hostile territory which may have laid the groundwork for what happens next.

* Eavesdropping...1/29/10) I have discovered that when an editor or other professional linguist uses the word "superstition" it refers to that assemblage of topics taught by teachers as facts about language...but which turn out to be without substance. That's a fancy way of saying they are not true. It helps that I have purchased a copy of Bryan Garner's seminal book, Garner's Modern American Usage, 2009. It is a treasure of good information about the American language. It helps dispel those myths and establish a foundation for writers which is very helpful. As an aside, however, it is interesting that linguists are allowed to co-opt a word (superstition) which has one meaning and provide it with a new meaning that meets their purposes. It does cause some confusion among those who are not members of the fraternity.

* (Alcoholics Anonymous...1/27) Please, folks, it was a dream. It is always dangerous to try to ascribe reality attributes to something which has been described as a dream. When I said I wanted to seek out somebody who could walk me through the meaning of the dream I meant a professional therapist with whom I could have a casual conversation...not a therapy session. I don't want to ruin the beauty of the dream by over-analysis, however.

* (The State of the Union Address...1/26) The idea that the President should engage both his intellectual and his emotional sides was played out nicely in clips of VP Biden joining him at the Georgetown-Duke basketball game on Saturday. It was a joy watching him have fun for a couple of hours away from the Oval Office. Apart from the Duke fans among his "watchers" I suspect there is a fair amount of "attaboy" attitude bolstering him today. It wasn't a Constitutional Law Professor who sat on the bench in the arena...it was Barry Obama, basketball fan.

* (A Book...1/23/10) After extolling the virtues of Patterson's books, it was a pleasure to read the article in the New York Times Magazine on 1/24 about Patterson and his publishing industry. What an amazing enterprise. In some ways it takes away the mystique of writing fiction, but it also amazes me that one man has the quantity of amazing stories holed up in his brain and the ability to get them out to his co-writers...and eventually to us...as interesting, engaging books. I read somewhere (long forgotten source) that he never takes suggestions of stories seriously. They emerge from within his own mind...although I suspect it could be argued that the seed for them was laid by somebody who whispered a theme into his ear at some point.

Enough...you can see that my postings are unfinished most days. Just limited thoughts on a topic that day. Sometimes it's only a matter of minutes before I learn something about the topic that I wish I had known when I wrote it. But, I suspect that's why the electronic phenomenon, TWITTER, exists.


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