I read a recent news article in the New York Times about Bank of America’s repayment of federal TARP funds paid during the financial crisis at the end of the George F. Bush administration. I’m glad to see the megabank repaying its bailout dept. But I cannot forgive them for their profiteering business practices…
Archive for the ‘Living’ Category
Bank of Not My America
Thursday, December 3rd, 2009Stars
Tuesday, November 17th, 2009I thought about taking the time to drive up somewhere to get a better view, but instead ended up walking out to the golf course. It’s a nice walk, though the November air had a bite to it. About 38 I suppose. But with some really cozy socks and a nice overcoat, hat, gloves, and the extra long scarf my sister in law knitted for me I was toasty! Rounder, my mom’s dog, kept me company.
I found the darkest place I could manage in a place surrounded by street lights. One long strip of shadows from trees stretched across the grass, and I spread my blanket to lie down and gaze at the heavens. The dog was as clueless as I as to what to expect.
There is wonder in the stars. Wonder and mystery and perspective. The unfathomable mind of God stretches out to infinity, whole galaxies reduced to tiny specks of companionship. They’re there. With you. Whether you’re looking, or not. You know.
The Leonids gave one magnificent gift to me – a slow burning arc across the sky – some lone traveler’s last heroic gasp. Was I the only one to say thank you? How ridiculous the notion.
Book Review – The Giver
Tuesday, October 6th, 2009My 7th grade daughter had to read The Giver for her Language Arts class. Now back when I was in the 7th grade we had English class, not Language Arts, but I actually prefer the latter. Or maybe English Arts. But that’s irrelevant to what I was going tosay! Sorry… I’m soooo easily distracted…
The Giver is set in a futuristic utopia in which citizens trade autonomy for peace.The setting unfolds as the good guy, a coming-of-age boy named Jonas, faces the assignment of his lifelong career at the ripe old age of twelve! Written in a narrative style from his point of view, he explores the limitations and advantages of his societal structure, anticipating along with his peers, the coming life changes. He worries about his future. His friendships. His family.
It’s not far into the book that you can figure out that when misfits of society are “released” that they are in fact put down like a rabid or sick dog, basically, as opposed to “lost” which comes from some accidental death or illness. That’s no surprise.
Nor is it a surprise that Jonas is chosen for a pivotal influential role in this cute little world, nor the fact that his struggling with this role is going to lead to some pretty dramatic changes for everyone!
But the ending loses it. It’s weak, poorly developed, and lacks any sort of dynamic twist. (Spoiler…)
The Art of Storytelling
Friday, October 2nd, 2009My youngest goes off to “Weenitville” a great deal. It’s that special place in her own imagination where her own world unfolds. We named it after her when she was very young and she’s adopted it as her own special place, to reference her own imagination. A safe place to go within one’s self.
She’s a movie producer there – she often works out entire screenplays and “watches movies” in her imagination. Or so she says.
She’s a story teller there – she will weave the strangest plots in her own little world.
Wild stories rich in imagery and character development unfold in Weenitville!
Rachel told me one of these stories just the other day. She had been telling stories in 6-year-old mode? You know the kind of story? And then everything kind of goes up? And then it has a bit of inflection? At the end? But that’s really annoying to listen to. So I told her to tell her stories using her voice as a tool to shape the story. Like music. She had to work at it… and then she started from scratch.
The boy on his way to bed went into his closet to put his clothes in the hamper. Much to his surprise, when he opened the hamper, out came a genie! The genie asked the boy what the boy wanted and offered to grant him three wishes, but not all of them right away. They had to be a month apart. The boy, who was not a good student, asked the genie if the dog would do the boy’s homework whenever he asked and POOF! So it happened.
The boy asked the dog to finish his homework and he did! Only his grades got worse, because the dog was not doing the homework all that well. Also the boy was not learning anything and got further behind in his classes.
The next month the boy again found the genie in his closet and the genie asked him what he wanted. The boy asked the genie if the dog could do his homework well. Because there’s no point having a dog do your homework if it isn’t done well! And POOF! So it happened.
For the next month the boy’s grades skyrocketed! Everytime he asked the dog to do the homework the dog did it all! Happily, and perfectly! But the problem was still that the boy was not learning anything. He failed his test. His parents didn’t understand how he could be doing his work so well and not have a clue how to even do his math at all when they asked him questions, too. And so they were about to send him off to some weird special school.
The next month the boy again found the genie in his closet and the genie asked him what he wanted. The boy asked the genie, this time, if he could just undo the spells, because he really wanted to just be normal again. He wanted to learn his schoolwork. Maybe he wouldn’t get the best grades but that’s okay. He was going to do his best.
POOF! And so it happened. The end!
This kind of story makes a daddy cry. 
Unspoken Correlations Can Point to Intent
Friday, September 25th, 2009It’s always astounded me, when I read of other nation’s dealings with Iran and its nuclear program, that all of the news articles fail to mention a very key and critical fact.
But first, some questions: Does a nation have a right to pursue an energy policy that puts other nations at risk by adding the specter of nuclear proliferation? Iran seems to be claiming yes. It’s national sovreignty! Does a nation have a right to defend itself in like manner against its foes? Iran has answered no. It has no intention to build nuclear arms even though Israel does apparently have that capability.
Yet Israel’s own nuclear armaments, which still are not publicly acknowledged, are widely known to exist. It would behoove world leaders to get rid of Israel’s nuclear threat if they want to put rival nations and faiths at ease, particularly given Israel’s own tendencies to act as a maverick rogue, stomping over other people’s rights and kicking people out of their homes, all backed, largely, by the Divine and Magnanimous Will and Word of Almighty US.
So Iran claims to want to build nuclear reactors for energy. That’s laughable.
Iran, not blessed with oil reserves of many other middle east nations, happens to be sitting on one of the largest and most accessible natural gas reserves in the world. There’s enough gas beneath the asses of those Iranian leaders to light their energy fires for centuries. So it’s hard to respect the country’s whining about the needs to build nuclear reactors for power.
Yet why haven’t any news articles ever highlighted the fact that Iran doesn’t actually need nuclear power to be energy self-sufficient? It seems to be a key fact that points to Iran’s true intentions.
Bad Gasses Can Be Avoided
Wednesday, September 16th, 2009Today I was driving to work, peacefully finding my way through the rainy streets of downtown Black Mountain, when….
! B..A..M !
Some weird explosion beneath my seat just about made me jump out of it. I could feel it through the seat, too, a bump much like running over a log. Only I had not run over a log at all, or anything else for that matter.
“What was that?!” … I sat and thought about it for 15 seconds or so. Then it hit me….
- Trip to Florida 10 Days Ago.
- Kids in the Back Seat.
- Convenience Store Break.
- A One-quart Screw-top Bottle of Chocolate Milk.
An image of a brown bottle catching my eye a few days ago lurking under my driver’s seat came to my mind… “I really need to get that out of there. And clean up that back area a bit!” It’s very nice in the front where I am, of course, but the kids haven’t yet learned that just a sight amount of neatness, not too much, greatly adds to quality of life. And tolerability of life as well, as it turns out.
The smell. The inescapable smell. The frantic wondering of just what the underside of my driver’s seat might be like now….. Even with all four windows rolled down and worrying about getting pulled over for speeding, the smell was just simply overwhelming.
Sort of a cheesy aroma too, really disgusting in some ways, but in other ways, kinda interesting! That makes me wonder a lot about cheese!
Time and Talent
Friday, September 11th, 2009I watched my daughter dive into her writing assignment last night. She’d read a novel that had left her class with a cliffhanger ending, unfinished, the way some good stories do. Her assignment was to suggest what might have happened next.
The thing about Morgan that’s always amazed me is that she embodies an indomitable creative spirit. She focuses on some things to the exclusion of others and produces what are for her and her loved ones masterpieces of expressive outburst.
That’s all well and good, except that in this case she wrote this story for three hours, and neglected to do her math!
“I hate to stifle your creative energy, Morgan. Please think about what you want to do, versus what you need to do, and choose carefully,” were the words that came out of my mouth.
She did manage to finish her story, though, and do most of her math. I feel it was a good balance, and she wasn’t up too late.
Isn’t that true? There are so many things I want to do with my life but can’t because of time. So many outlets for my own creativity that are unexplored because I have to finish the college home page layout (which I didn’t design – I’m just the grunt man implementing the technical details and making other people’s creativity happen these days), cook and prepare dinner, help my kids with their homework, manage dishes because the kids are too busy to help, and prepare for my own class tomorrow.
Some of that is creative. All of it I chose. Much of it I treasure. But where is the time to write, to play the piano, to practice Tai Chi, to roleplay, to dream? To invent? To create?
I watch my kids grow up and am so thankful that they have an appreciation of the treasure of these last days of childhood. Unburdened by the expectations and responsiblilities of adulthood and only lightly tethered to the duties of education, which is itself a joy if embraced from the softer side, their lives are blossoms of joy and energy.
Mine is too. I’ll never lose the hope of getting to do the things I want and love.
Ken Robinson Talks about Education
Monday, June 1st, 2009Ken Robinson speaks to the current structure of our education system, and claims that we should radically shift the focus of education away from head-knowledge and towards allowing children to continue in their creative potential.
This talk is amazingly inspiring. Ken says so many things that give you this “Oh yeah.. that’s TRUE!” experience that the whole talk is one massive goosebump dose. And while he’s correct – our education system teaches people that they should be right vs. inventive – that the heady topics in education are at the top of learning but the arts are at the bottom – that our education system does not properly value creativity as a necessary component in our new culture – he’s a bit short on any details as to how things might change.
One big idea that he only hinted at is the notion that our current degree oriented system is outmoded because it doesn’t value creativity, not just that it doesn’t value creativity. The millionaires in our culture are the movers: athletes. The drawers: movies and film. The creatives: Musicians.
Somehow, our education system simply does not value these endeavors much. And he’s correct – the system is geared on a need to feed our young into an industrial society.
We aren’t an inststrial society anymore.
