2/27/09:
I went to see the movie Doubt this evening, needing a stricter/clearer break between work life and the weekend, an effort to stop the endless loop a worried/harried brain lapses into. It seems to have been a good move, jumping into the weekend with excellent acting and food for thought.
There is much to be thankful for: I did not have to deal with any super-angry clients at work this week, no co-workers reported to me seeing clients with guns or finding unspent bullets on the floor, and our excellent receptionist was given a reprieve of 2 more weeks to work for us before being let go. Also, of our skeleton crew, only one staff person decided not to return next week. Yes, a lot to be thankful for.
I saved the picture above a month or so ago because it looked almost surreal, kind of like storm-troopers in a science fiction movie. It is of a protestor at the feet of French police. The picture links to an obituary you may have seen for Christopher Nolan, a 43 year old Irish award-winning author who wrote using a pointer attached to his head. I read the obituary and decided I need to get some of his writings.
The challenges of life are different for each of us, just as the meaning of each of life is different for each person. It often feels like my reason for existence is to whine— doesn't it Jay?
Looking through his tears he saw [his mother] bent low in order to look into his eyes. '... Listen here Joseph, you can see, you can hear, you can think, you can understand everything you hear, you like your food, you like nice clothes, you are loved by me and Dad. We love you just as you are.' Pussing still, sniveling still, he was listening to his mother's voice. She spoke sort of matter-of-factly but he blubbered moaning sounds. His mother said her say and that was that. She got on with her work while he got on with his crying.
The decision arrived at that day was burnt forever in his mind. He was only three years in age but he was now fanning the only spark he saw, his being alive and more immediate, his being wanted just as he was....
That day looked out through his eyes for the rest of his life. Comfort came in child-like notions, his clumsy body was his, but molested by mother-love he looked lollying looks at his limbs, and liked Joseph Meehan.— Christopher Nolan, in Under the Eye of the Clock
2/22/09:
When I used to work out of an office in Smokey Point we would often walk to the dollar store in the same shopping center for a break. That particular dollar store seemed to get a good supply of nice, relatively current hardback books— causing me to purchase quite a few that I am still working on finishing. The picture of geese to the left links to the university website of Bernd Heinrich, author of one of those dollar store books I just finished, The Geese of Beaver Bog. The author has written several well-regarded books, including Winter World and Bumblebee Economics. This book was a nice accounting of several years of Bernd's observations of geese in the Vermont marsh across the road from his house, precipitated by a relationship he developed with a gosling his toddler son "adopted". It is interesting to watch this scientist go through the process of verifying his observations, especially the ones contrary to currently accepted interpretations. He also makes an interesting observation after watching the geese parenting their goslings: "There is no need for any parent [geese] to be in two or more separate locations at the same time. And when the adults get tired and take a rest, the young immediately plop down to follow their example. There is little conflict between what one member of the family has to do or wants to do and what another might have to do, or wish to do. No messes ever need cleaning up in their primitive lifestyle. Modern human life has reputed advantages over that of our ancient anthropoid days, when the whole family spent their days on a series of continual romps through the woods and meadows of the great outdoors, but ease of parenting is decidedly not one of them." It is a nice read.
We had a spring-like weekend, prompting us to do some front yard work, cleaning out brown vegetation left over from last summer, trimming my mallow bush and roses in the process. I was able to visit with Carol on the phone Saturday and learn the wonderful news that she was able to move her legs a little for the first time that day. She has one more plasma exchange and then will head to inpatient rehab for a lot of therapy geared to get her up and mobile so that she can qualify for the stem cell program. As we all know stem cells are evil tools of the devil... and two negatives do make a positive but two positives don't make a negative... yeah, right.
The structure to the right, as you most likely have already guessed, is of Tartrazine. The figure links to the Tartrazine Wikipedia page. I was started on thyroid replacement the end of last April, taking 75mcg of Levothyroxine daily. I did fine for quite a while, but then started having a lot of edema in my feet and occasional weirdness in my heart rhythm. It took me a while but I finally figured out it wasn't the thyroid medication but the pill's coloring agent causing me grief. Yes, I am definitely related to my mother's family– sensitive to everything. In searching on the internet I found similar symptoms related to this coloring agent. I have been on non-generic 50mcg Synthroid for going on a couple of months now without the side effects– the 50mcg pill has no coloring agents. My doctor had not heard of any such thing but it immediately made sense to him since the symptoms did not appear until after I had been on the medication for awhile. If it had been the thyroid dose itself it would have started right away. What a wacky medical world we live in.
If you have an apple and I have an apple and we exchange these apples then you and I will still each have one apple. But if you have an idea and I have an idea and we exchange these ideas, then each of us will have two ideas.— George Bernard Shaw (1856-1950)
2/19/09:
My February 7th entry talked about an autobiographical book I had finished about America's incarceration (yes, I choose that word) of US citizens of Japanese descent. Jay frequently refers me to a website of old photos, shorpy.com, and today I ran across some interesting photos from those days: here.
As you know, one of the al-Marri cases involving the US Government is in the process of US Supreme Court review. The Brennan Center for Justice is representing Ali Saleh Kahlah al-Marri in two cases involving the U.S. government and they have a nice summary at www.brennancenter.org. It will be interesting to see how President Obama handles this, one of the many legacies of President Bush's fascist political ideology.
The Founding Fathers continue to turn in their graves; hopefully they will get some rest soon.
Along the same lines, but in some perverse way more amusing... check out the KKK parade photo borrowed from the shorpy website– the small photo at the beginning of this entry links to a larger version you most likely will find of interest.
The establishment of the writ of habeas corpus ... are perhaps greater securities to liberty and republicanism than any it [the Constitution] contains. ...[T]he practice of arbitrary imprisonments have been, in all ages, the favorite and most formidable instruments of tyranny. The observations of the judicious [British 18th century legal scholar] Blackstone, in reference to the latter, are well worthy of recital:
"To bereave a man of life," says he, "or by violence to confiscate his estate, without accusation or trial, would be so gross and notorious an act of despotism, as must at once convey the alarm of tyranny throughout the whole nation; but confinement of the person, by secretly hurrying him to jail, where his sufferings are unknown or forgotten, is a less public, a less striking, and therefore A MORE DANGEROUS ENGINE of arbitrary government." [Capitals all from the original.]— Alexander Hamilton, Federalist 84
2/16/09:
Hello everyone, and happy Presidents' Day. It has been a huge relief to have a 3 day weekend and some extra personal time. Jay and I headed down to Seattle yesterday to see the Seattle Art Museum's showing of some of Edward Hopper's works. It was great to see his paintings in person, so vibrant and dimensional— we enjoyed it immensely. (Click on the pic to the left for a little more.) Afterward we enjoyed dinner at Taste of India, on Roosevelt near 56th. The food was delicious and the service great, plus we had a coupon for a free meal...
We were also able to visit Carol at UW Hospital, were she is undergoing her third admission for exacerbation of Devic's Disease since June. She is receiving plasma exchange treatments and working to once again regain use of her legs, and they are now working her up for a stem cell transplant procedure. I admire Carol greatly, she is a model of positive strength. Positive thoughts and prayers are appreciated.
Today I was feeling puny and worn out, and did not make it out to go get some groceries until after 1pm, only to discover that I had not completely shut one car door on our return from Seattle yesterday evening— my battery was dead. Luckily we have AAA and a tow truck came quickly to zap my car. Despite it being a rather small inconvenience I felt totally frazzled when my car did not start. I received an email at work Friday letting me know I was receiving a $1000 bonus for a "Sustained Superior Performance Award". I laughed out loud opening and reading the email. I had just finished sending a follow-up email to a union rep complaining about security issues at the clinic I work at. I frequently have to interact with incredibly angry patients, knowing some of them carry concealed weapons and that staff I work with report having found live ammunition on the floor of the clinic twice now. We have been promised security measures for a while now, and I spend a lot of time these days wondering whether to continue holding my breath or move on. It is very disappointing after working so hard to get hired into this agency, leaving a rather new job in the process. Getting new jobs is tiring, as is learning new job processes. Will I ever stop whining about my jobs? Am I being too fussy? I do work hard, do a good job... sigh.
Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and our freedom.— Viktor E. Frankl
2/14/09:
The wind.
Through the ages the wind
has blown.
The wind blows now,
bringing in today,
sending yesterday
on its way,
into the certainty
of eternity.
The wind blows through my hair,
still. I am glad
the graying roots,
the thinning strands,
are yet lifted.
The wind will bring
tomorrow from wherever
it hides today.
Meanwhile today is full
of everything.
Some say that of
tomorrow, today and yesterday,
only yesterdays are real,
the only days done with becoming.
I have felt the wind
blowing many todays into reality.
Has the wind sped up?
The wind is blowing
through my hair.
I do not dare to smooth it down,
hoping this that I know with you,
will remain in becoming.
2/13/09:
Somehow it only seems fitting to have a story about pregnancy and a picture of sorts of egg and sperm for the day before Valentine's Day. The egg/sperm picture links to an interesting article you may have seen about a 13 year old boy in England becoming a father. Of course that story is of major interest in itself, although I found some of the statistics cited as only more evidence in support of my own narrow views about the ineffectiveness of our Puritanical views in this country— as follows:
"Britain had 27 births per 1,000 women aged 15-19 between 2000 and 2005, according to a report published by Population Action International. Comparable figures are 10 per 1,000 for Spain, 8 in 1,000 for France, and 5 in 1,000 for The Netherlands.
Britain's teen pregnancy rate, however, is still far below that of the United States, which registers 44 births per 1,000 women aged 15-19 and are more line with English-speaking countries such as Australia and New Zealand, which respectively have 17 and 27 births per 1,000 women between 15 and 19, according to the report.
But the country's [England] reputation as Europe's teen pregnancy capital has been an embarrassment to politicians."
Not so here, of course. We defy any such statistics to embarrass us, as the empire burns.
With or without religion, you would have good people doing good things and evil people doing evil things. But for good people to do evil things, that takes religion. — Steven Weinberg
2/9/09:
We have had rain/snow showers today, just to remind us it is still winter.
It was an enjoyable, low-key weekend, that was over sooner than I wanted. I met an old co-worker friend for lunch Saturday, catching up on the last few years and getting her out for the first time just to socialize with a friend since her husband and love of her life passed away. It was good to catch up. Jay and I went to Rexville's yearly champagne and chocolate tasting later in the afternoon Saturday, in celebration of the upcoming Valentine's Day holiday.
My cousin Diane lost a very close friend last week and my good friend Carol lost her mother the end of last month. The loss of loved ones accelerates with age, a fascinating, frightening, and sorrowful reality. My niece Kristin is now 4 months pregnant and planning a shower at her mother's home in Indiana in early April– another baby to bring its own brand of joy into this world. As it has always been, life is bracketed by birth and death, leaving space for everything else that gives it meaning in between.
This evening we listened to President Obama's news conference, noting his lengthy, thoughtful answers to reporter questions. It was quite a contrast to Presidential news conferences of the last eight years, a contrast intensified when the President used a word I had to ask Jay the definition of. What is the world coming to? A President with a large vocabulary, to go along with an inquiring intellect— he has kept his campaign promise of change already. What? What was the word? Yikes! Oh no, that wasn't the word, just my reaction– yes, the word was bellicose, just as you thought.
The little news blurb up to the left links to an interesting ad from Popular Mechanics, July 1905. Check it out and see if you have seen the same ad recently.
HAPPINESS
I ASKED the professors who teach the meaning of life to tell
me what is happiness.
And I went to famous executives who boss the work of
thousands of men.
They all shook their heads and gave me a smile as though
I was trying to fool with them
And then one Sunday afternoon I wandered out along
the Desplaines river
And I saw a crowd of Hungarians under the trees with
their women and children
and a keg of beer and an
accordion.
— Carl Sandburg
2/7/09:
I have been reading a book by Mary Matsuda Gruenewald titled Looking Like The Enemy. Mary published this, her first book, in 2005– turning 80 also that year. Mary grew up on Vashon Island, in the Puget Sound south of Seattle, until the Japanese bombing of Pearl Harbor changed her life, and that of not only her family but all families of Japanese descent living on the west coast. Mary spent the remainder of her teen years, despite being an American citizen, in internment camps. Her account of those experiences is insightful and touching. The stoic strength of her family during those days is astounding and touching, as are Mary's memories of attending school in the camps and reciting the Pledge of Allegiance to the country imprisoning her family, and her brother's entry into the US Armed Forces. Her parents' belief in their adopted country and the family's desire to be "good" citizens speaks to a kind of faith in America those less tested... well, it is an inspiring story.
Mary's parents are pillars of strength and philosophically inspiring, as when her mother speaks to Mary and her older brother while in the third camp they are sent to: "Let's imagine," she said after a thoughtful silence, "that we are now twenty years into the future, looking back on our situation as it is right now." She looked at Yoneichi, then glanced briefly at Papa-san. "Some of us may survive this time. Twenty years from now, we may have nothing more than the memories of how we conducted ourselves with dignity and courage during this difficult time." She paused. "What kind of memories do we want to have then of how we faced these difficulties now?"
The links at the beginning of this entry, for the book's and Mary's names, go to the author's site about her book and the need she felt after 9/11 to get the story out that she had kept silent for so long, as she saw the risk of her country sliding down some of the self-same slippery slopes. The picture above also links to a Wikipedia piece about the internment of people of German ancestry in the US during WWII. Mary's brother became part of the combined 100th and 442nd Regimental Combat Team, which for their size were the most highly decorated units in the history of the US Armed Forces.
[A soldier who fought in the 100th] remembered Italy and a young German soldier, about 18 years of age, who was badly wounded. "We cut away his trousers and tried to stop the blood flow, but we soon realized he was going to die. We were too far from the aid station, and there was no way to save his life. He tried to tell us something in German, but we couldn't understand. By arm and hand motion, we gathered he wanted us to take out his wallet, which we did. And then he wanted us to take out some pictures. By his facial expressions, by his tears, we knew somehow that he wanted us to tell his mother about his last moments on this earth. And that, I think, hit us very deeply. We realized very very vividly that he was another human being–young, innocent, who meant no real harm to us, other than he was in the same bind we were... War is as close to hell on earth as man can create, and why people fight them, if you've ever been in one, you never understand."— Excerpt from I Can Never Forget by Thelma Chang
2/5/09:
I talk with my parents in Michigan every Sunday, and lately every time I talk to them there is more snow. I guess they had about a winter's worth of snow in January this year, brrr. Not sure why God is shaking his head so much over that way.
Our weather continues more normal, thank goodness. Jay has been working on the yard, pruning our fruit trees and cutting back our butterfly bush. With all the building last year and the repairing of the mess construction made to our yard, we have lots to do and I haven't yet got bitten by the yard-work bug to head out there myself. I like it warmer outside...
Jay came up with an idea for a novelty telegram service recently, requiring female telegram delivery persons. If you click on the cartoon you can see a fun "Trekky" variation of an old mammogram joke. Happy Friday one and all.
My education was dismal. I went to a series of schools for mentally disturbed teachers.— Woody Allen
2/1/09:
The two pics that grace the top of this month's page were culled from old pages, bringing back a couple of favorites. Where did that January go? Wasn't it fast?
The latte pic to the left links to a New Yorker cartoon– enjoy.
Today was Super Bowl Sunday, which was a close game, highlighted by Bruce Springsteen's energetic performance. The two pics at the top of the page link to "We Are One" Inauguration Concert performances that are nice to check out. The picture of me waving links to the U2 performance, with Bono inserting about 3/4 of the way through that the dream is shared by not only our allies.
Friends from Uzbekistan and from Iran have told me that the world loves America, the America of ideals and values, the America of the dream. We forget all too often, or maybe we just do not truly know, that most of the world's population wants us to succeed because they want the dream to be true. They want the dream to exist, to be a possibility so that there is someplace where things are right, where things are just. If there is no such dream, no such place... it is frightening when there is no place of safety in the whole wide world.
Do you think it is possible to enlarge our dream of freedom, justice and democracy to include all of mankind? How big can we dream?
Born laughing, I've believed in the absurd,
Which brought me this far; henceforth, if I can,
I must impersonate a serious man.
— John Updike, "Midpoint and Other Poems"
Jardot's World: February Edition, 2009
All pictures on my page link to
somewhere... go ahead, click!
  |  Donate to Linda's |
