When I watch US media coverage of world events, I often have the impression that I truly live in a parallel universe. Of course, it is natural for the perspective of my fellow citizens on the other side of "The Pond" to be different. Many, if not most, are struggling just to get from one day to the next. They are typically worried about keeping their jobs -- if they are lucky enough to have them, having good schools and meaningful job opportunities for their children, keeping their health insurance and not going bankrupt if they happen to have someone in the family with a chronic medical condition, among other particulars. They are much more concerned about domestic issues that touch them directly. Even from my "lofty" perspective here, I am also concerned by those issues, on their and my own children's behalf.
Even so, given our global society, there are just too many geopolitical, cultural and social issues that touch upon and affect "domestic" issues that a true disservice is done to my fellow citizens when geopolitical issues are reported superficially. Or even worse, when those geopolitical issues are not reported at all.
It is not that we do not have good journalists. We have some truly outstanding ones, especially in the print media, in publications such as The New Yorker, where Seymour Hersch, for one, has broken story after story ... only for any of those important stories that did not find favor with the corporations or interests that control the media to fade from the public consciousness. They are never given the "hype" in broadcast or even other print media that would be given to coverage of, say, a comely pregnant spouse who has gone missing. This is not to say that the latter is not important, especially to those who love her. Still, the proportionality of the effect is much different.
In the United States, there is currently great and justified concern about the burgeoning budget and trade deficits, especially because they will hinder, if not prevent outright, government expenditure in areas that can assist the general population with their most common concerns. Much is made, for example, about the impact on the US budget deficit of passing health care reform that will benefit the US population as a whole, most often in an effort to stall passage of any meaningful reform. But the real "elephant in the room" is that the biggest annual deficit producer, once entitlement programs like Medicare/Medicaid and Social Security -- which actually do benefit large segments of the population -- are excluded, is the US military. Even President Obama proposes not simply to maintain, but to increase military expenditures in 2010.
The largest and ever-increasing portion of the military expenditures is due to the two wars (Afghanistan and Iraq) begun during the administration of George W. Bush, and especially to Iraq. So it would seem logical, at least to me, to be a tiny bit curious about how the US managed to convince Tony Blair, at the time Prime Minister of the United Kingdom and who was initially -- and correctly, in the opinion of anyone who knows a thing or two about international law -- against an invasion of Iraq, to jump on the war bandwagon. Had Blair not done so, it is quite likely that the so-called "Iraq War Coalition" would not have been formed at all. (My own theory is that somehow he was "Stepfordized" while visiting the Bush ranch in Texas. Even some of his closest friends didn't recognize him after that.)
Given this natural, to my mind at least, curiosity and the Iraq War's overall adverse impact on the US budget deficit as well as international relations generally, it is mystifying that the Chilcot Inquiry has received little to no mainstream media coverage in the United States. It is truly as if there has been a news blackout. Begun in November 2009 in the UK, the Chilcot Inquiry, otherwise known as the Iraq Inquiry, is an ongoing inquiry by a committee of Privy Counsellors with broad terms of reference to consider the UK’s involvement in Iraq from mid-2001 to July 2009. It is intended to cover "the run-up to the conflict, the subsequent military action and its aftermath with the purpose to establish the way decisions were made, to determine what happened and to identify lessons to ensure that in a similar situation in future, the UK government is equipped to respond in the most effective manner in the best interests of the country."
If one "googles" news reports on the Chilcot Inquiry, one receives results like this. It is natural that the print media reports begin with British sources, of course. What is less natural, however, is that few "mainstream" US news sources carry any reports at all. Try searching for yourself with the newspapers that you most frequently read. My search through the Washington Post's archive, for example, retrieved eight stories since November 2009. Many of those were only available on-line. The two that were published in the print version were on pages A08 and A27 respectively. The A27 reference was in a column by Jim Hoagland. The A08 reference was to Tony Blair's testimony before the committee on Friday, 29 January 2009. The headline clearly provides the "slant" for the story, "Ex-British prime minister Tony Blair: The world is safer without Saddam Hussein."
Uh, Mr. Blair and WaPo headline writer, that's not the point.
Even PBS, my bastion of last hope for a "free" press because it is public and supposedly less susceptible to corporate interference, brought up only three responses to my "Chilcot Inquiry" search. "Iraq Inquiry" did better, having 647 results, but many of those actually referred to previous inquiries, not specifically the Chilcot Inquiry, which is the most recent.
So why is this "blackout" happening? I certainly have no answer and I wish that I did. At least, the UK is asking the questions to those who should be providing answers. A US commission is long overdue.
31 January 2010
30 January 2010
Sunshine joys and progress
Today, I've been humming a little John Denver tune around the house that I haven't hummed in years.
This is the first day since my return to Switzerland over a week ago that we have actually had sunshine ... sunshine so hot that I had to use the terrace awning so that I could benefit from the light and still not turn the living room into a hammam.
Last night it snowed. There was even some left on the ground this morning. There are still a few patches left now as the evening begins creeping in. It was nothing like our major dump in Maryland last month, at least not down here by the lake. But the ski stations at high levels no doubt appreciate it. Here was my lake view today. Believe me ... the sun was there, even though there were still a lot of clouds in the sky.
I also got a shot of the middle playground area today before the little kids came out to play. It's beginning to look a lot more user-friendly these days.
Here is what it looked like two years ago.
And here's what it looked like a couple months later. The weeds have been mowed, which is an improvement, but that's it. There's been a little progress in the adjoining construction.
Here's the same location one year ago. The "play area" looks to be a lost cause. A few piles were dug ... then left. Still, the building is progressing.
And here it is again a couple months later. Hmm. It looks like we have the same piles, only now the weeds have grown over them. PilotNephew (#1 Nephew) always did find the Swiss cloud cover impressive.
And here we see it from last fall. Hallelujah, there's been some movement and the area is actually taking shape.
Here, a bit later in the fall, the grass is getting green.
Since then, benches have been installed. You can see them in today's photo with the snow. There are still a few plants and trees left according to the plan. But it looks as if the play area will actually be fully operational for the kids by this spring. Hurrah!
Now, all I need is someone to enjoy it with me!
Sunshine on my shoulders makes me happy
Sunshine in my eyes can make me cry
Sunshine on the water looks so lovely
Sunshine almost always makes me high ... .
This is the first day since my return to Switzerland over a week ago that we have actually had sunshine ... sunshine so hot that I had to use the terrace awning so that I could benefit from the light and still not turn the living room into a hammam.
Last night it snowed. There was even some left on the ground this morning. There are still a few patches left now as the evening begins creeping in. It was nothing like our major dump in Maryland last month, at least not down here by the lake. But the ski stations at high levels no doubt appreciate it. Here was my lake view today. Believe me ... the sun was there, even though there were still a lot of clouds in the sky.
I also got a shot of the middle playground area today before the little kids came out to play. It's beginning to look a lot more user-friendly these days.
Here is what it looked like two years ago.
And here's what it looked like a couple months later. The weeds have been mowed, which is an improvement, but that's it. There's been a little progress in the adjoining construction.
Here's the same location one year ago. The "play area" looks to be a lost cause. A few piles were dug ... then left. Still, the building is progressing.
And here it is again a couple months later. Hmm. It looks like we have the same piles, only now the weeds have grown over them. PilotNephew (#1 Nephew) always did find the Swiss cloud cover impressive.
And here we see it from last fall. Hallelujah, there's been some movement and the area is actually taking shape.
Here, a bit later in the fall, the grass is getting green.
Since then, benches have been installed. You can see them in today's photo with the snow. There are still a few plants and trees left according to the plan. But it looks as if the play area will actually be fully operational for the kids by this spring. Hurrah!
Now, all I need is someone to enjoy it with me!
29 January 2010
Millions of small acts
"I wonder how the foreign policies of the United States would look if we wiped out the national boundaries of the world, at least in our minds, and thought of all children everywhere as our own." ---- Howard Zinn
Yesterday, at 87, Howard Zinn, the civil rights and anti-war activist, historian, author and political science professor at Boston University from 1964 to 1988, collapsed in Santa Monica, CA, where he was due to give a lecture.
I first learned this today from an article in the on-line Guardian (one of the best English-language sources, IMO, of the news that is never, or barely, reported in the so-called "mainstream US media"). To be sure, Zinn's death is being reported in the US. It could hardly be avoided. For example, here is a report from the Boston Globe, discussing one of his best-known books, "A People's History of the United States: 1492-Present." The book is considered revolutionary because it is credited with "legitimizing to the greater public the experiences of people whose stories previously had not been told, including women, laborers, Native Americans, and other minorities." Because Zinn's book focuses on American history from the perspective of the underprivileged, it has been much criticized, especially by those of the political right. No doubt, those same individuals will once again leap to criticize, even now, as his family lays him to rest. But his words remain with us, nonetheless. They are worth a thoughtful read.
With Zinn's death, we have lost yet another of the "Greatest Generation," those who lived through much of the turmoil of the twentieth century ... and drew lessons from their mistakes. Lessons which too many of us who remain here either have not learned or not taken to heart. But it is never too late to do so because this particular member has left us a rich legacy, not only in his words but also in his actions. In 2004, the film, "You Can't Be Neutral on a Moving Train," documented his life and times. It is very powerful. You can find a YouTube trailer here.
Zinn never considered his view of history as anything other than a subjective one, and not "benignly" subjective at that. But then, what history is truly objective? "Official" written history has always been in the service of money, status and power. We see current history skewed in news headlines on a daily basis or through biased commentators who become instant "experts" on everything under the sun merely by virtue of appearing before a television camera. Historical bias has been the rule from the days of court historians, who knew exactly which side their bread had better be buttered on (heads could literally roll), to today, when university chairs are endowed by corporations, often with an agenda. Zinn, however, was among the first to give voice to the American dispossessed and he had an even larger perspective. In his anti-war agenda, he spoke for the world's dispossessed.
Rest in peace, Professor Zinn. May your legacy bear fruit and continue long after you!
*****
"We don't have to engage in grand, heroic actions to participate in the process of change. Small acts, when multiplied by millions of people, can transform the world." ---- Howard Zinn
I first learned this today from an article in the on-line Guardian (one of the best English-language sources, IMO, of the news that is never, or barely, reported in the so-called "mainstream US media"). To be sure, Zinn's death is being reported in the US. It could hardly be avoided. For example, here is a report from the Boston Globe, discussing one of his best-known books, "A People's History of the United States: 1492-Present." The book is considered revolutionary because it is credited with "legitimizing to the greater public the experiences of people whose stories previously had not been told, including women, laborers, Native Americans, and other minorities." Because Zinn's book focuses on American history from the perspective of the underprivileged, it has been much criticized, especially by those of the political right. No doubt, those same individuals will once again leap to criticize, even now, as his family lays him to rest. But his words remain with us, nonetheless. They are worth a thoughtful read.
With Zinn's death, we have lost yet another of the "Greatest Generation," those who lived through much of the turmoil of the twentieth century ... and drew lessons from their mistakes. Lessons which too many of us who remain here either have not learned or not taken to heart. But it is never too late to do so because this particular member has left us a rich legacy, not only in his words but also in his actions. In 2004, the film, "You Can't Be Neutral on a Moving Train," documented his life and times. It is very powerful. You can find a YouTube trailer here.
Zinn never considered his view of history as anything other than a subjective one, and not "benignly" subjective at that. But then, what history is truly objective? "Official" written history has always been in the service of money, status and power. We see current history skewed in news headlines on a daily basis or through biased commentators who become instant "experts" on everything under the sun merely by virtue of appearing before a television camera. Historical bias has been the rule from the days of court historians, who knew exactly which side their bread had better be buttered on (heads could literally roll), to today, when university chairs are endowed by corporations, often with an agenda. Zinn, however, was among the first to give voice to the American dispossessed and he had an even larger perspective. In his anti-war agenda, he spoke for the world's dispossessed.
Rest in peace, Professor Zinn. May your legacy bear fruit and continue long after you!
*****
"We don't have to engage in grand, heroic actions to participate in the process of change. Small acts, when multiplied by millions of people, can transform the world." ---- Howard Zinn
28 January 2010
The Furry Invaders
This morning, as I walked into town along the path past the school at the rear of the château, I was literally enchanted to see, suddenly and all too briefly, a red squirrel right in front of me. This is the first time in my life that I have ever seen one in the wild. I am not sure whether I have ever seen one anywhere in the flesh. He (or she) looked exactly like this.
When we first arrived in Switzerland more than 15 years ago, HWMBO told me that he had read that there were no squirrels here at all. In fact, I don't remember seeing any around in those years but I have not been able to find a source for his statement. We have many squirrels around the house in Maryland, given our proximity to a protected habitat -- too many for some, in fact. But those are all gray [grey] and they look like this.
The Eastern Gray squirrel, the species native to Maryland and the Eastern United States, is remarkably adaptable and is the most common squirrel found in most North American habitats, including some in Canada. It was introduced from North America into other areas of the world, namely Ireland, Great Britain and Italy during the Victorian era. There it has proven to be too adaptable for its own good. It has largely driven the red squirrel native to Europe to endangered species status. Many countries in the European Union are concerned with its spread, classify the Eastern gray as an invasive species, and believe that it poses a threat to European biodiversity. Eastern grays were also introduced into South Africa and Australia. They were extirpated altogether in Australia by 1973.
Given these concerns, the European Squirrel Initiative was founded in June 2002. Its goal is "to create, develop and maintain a campaign to win the support and commitment of governments throughout Europe in securing the future of the red squirrel through the effective control of the grey squirrel." The indictment of charges drawn up against the furry little creatures is impressive.
"The grey squirrel (Sciurus carolinensis) is the principal threat to the survival of the red squirrel in Britain. The grey squirrel has already:
Having checked through various sources on the internet (what did we ever do without the internet?), I found studies that predict that the Eastern gray [grey] squirrel will appear in Switzerland from 2031-2041, with significant populations here in 2056-66. The "worst case scenario" predictions are for them to appear significantly sooner.
If that is the case, the studies are already out of date and we are already in the worst case scenario. I have seen gray squirrels in this area of Switzerland since I moved here in 2007.
But today is the first time that I have ever seen a red squirrel. It was a privilege and a joy and I hope that I will see it or another like it again. I hope that others will too.
Could it possibly be that the squirrels have found a way to co-exist with each other ... that the problem is not with the squirrels, but with us?
The Eastern Gray squirrel, the species native to Maryland and the Eastern United States, is remarkably adaptable and is the most common squirrel found in most North American habitats, including some in Canada. It was introduced from North America into other areas of the world, namely Ireland, Great Britain and Italy during the Victorian era. There it has proven to be too adaptable for its own good. It has largely driven the red squirrel native to Europe to endangered species status. Many countries in the European Union are concerned with its spread, classify the Eastern gray as an invasive species, and believe that it poses a threat to European biodiversity. Eastern grays were also introduced into South Africa and Australia. They were extirpated altogether in Australia by 1973.
Given these concerns, the European Squirrel Initiative was founded in June 2002. Its goal is "to create, develop and maintain a campaign to win the support and commitment of governments throughout Europe in securing the future of the red squirrel through the effective control of the grey squirrel." The indictment of charges drawn up against the furry little creatures is impressive.
"The grey squirrel (Sciurus carolinensis) is the principal threat to the survival of the red squirrel in Britain. The grey squirrel has already:
- Driven out the British red squirrel (Sciurus vulgaris L) from all but a few "last outposts" on the mainland
- Caused irreparable damage to coniferous and broadleaved trees such as beech, oak, sycamore and Norway spruce.
- Degraded timber quality;
- Raided birds’ nests to prey on eggs and fledglings;
- Deprived native British wildlife of food both in the wild and in gardens;
- Damaged orchards and gardens;
- Damaged historic and ancient woodlands and forests;
- Invaded and caused damage to domestic and commercial premises;
- Gnawed through electrical cables; and
- Is now posing a serious threat to the great forests of northern Italy, France, Switzerland and Germany."
Having checked through various sources on the internet (what did we ever do without the internet?), I found studies that predict that the Eastern gray [grey] squirrel will appear in Switzerland from 2031-2041, with significant populations here in 2056-66. The "worst case scenario" predictions are for them to appear significantly sooner.
If that is the case, the studies are already out of date and we are already in the worst case scenario. I have seen gray squirrels in this area of Switzerland since I moved here in 2007.
But today is the first time that I have ever seen a red squirrel. It was a privilege and a joy and I hope that I will see it or another like it again. I hope that others will too.
Could it possibly be that the squirrels have found a way to co-exist with each other ... that the problem is not with the squirrels, but with us?
Stolen Lives
There was an article in yesterday's Tribune de Genève that describes some of the many difficulties that await the Uzbek refugee who recently arrived in Geneva. He is the first former detainee from the Guantanamo prison to be granted asylum in Switzerland. The Swiss Government announced this news on Tuesday, stressing that the individual has never been charged with any offense. Evidently he has committed to learning one of the national languages (French, German, or Italian), and intends to look for work to support himself. See the article here. His identity and location will be kept secret so as to facilitate his integration into the country.
The Swiss agreed to grant asylum to this individual in December on humanitarian grounds, after he had spent the past seven years at Guantanamo.
Seven years without ever being charged with an offense! Seven! Years! Without! Being! Charged! Seven years without ever once being allowed to clear one's name!
A travesty of justice? Well, er ... yes.
Long, long ago, in 1215, at Runnymede, King John of England was forced by his barons to sign a document known as the Magna Carta. The powers of the King, up to then practically limitless, were for the first time limited in an agreed-upon manner, even if the agreement on the King's side was coerced. Certain rights of his subjects were explicitly protected. Among rights that were implicitly protected was the right of appeal against unlawful imprisonment. That right of appeal against unlawful imprisonment ultimately developed into what is now known as the writ of habeas corpus. The Magna Carta forever changed the course of legal history in the English-speaking world and influenced common law systems. It had a profound influence on the United States Constitution, into which the writ of habeas corpus was incorporated. Article One, Section 9 of the Constitution states: "The privilege of the writ of habeas corpus shall not be suspended, unless when in cases of rebellion or invasion, the public safety requires it." [emphasis mine] A writ of habeas corpus is used as a legal avenue to challenge pretrial detention, even when those detained are not US citizens.
The writ of habeas corpus was suspended at extraordinary times and in certain areas throughout the relatively short history of the United States. For example, President Abraham Lincoln suspended it in 1862 during the American Civil War in Maryland and parts of midwestern states. President Ulysses S. Grant suspended it in the early 1870s against nine counties in South Carolina as part of federal civil rights action against the Ku Klux Klan. The writ was suspended from 1942 to 1944 in Hawaii by President Franklin Roosevelt, following the imposition of martial law there in the wake of the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor. Although each of these suspensions was considered controversial even at the time, it was also arguable that in each case, there was a genuine issue of public safety that tipped the scales in favor of the suspension. In each case, once the public safety issue was resolved, however, the suspension was lifted as soon as possible thereafter so that the court system could function normally.
Former President George W. Bush did something unprecedented in a democracy, however. He did not actually suspend the writ. He totally ignored it. On 13 November 2001, he issued a Military Order stating that individuals could be held indefinitely without charges being filed against them, without a court hearing, and without entitlement to a legal consultant. This Order was not only in direct opposition to a person's right to a writ of habeas corpus, but also to a person's rights to counsel and to a fair and speedy trial as specifically provided for in the US Bill of Rights. Bush Administration lawyers used contrived definitions and circumstances to argue how and why the US Constitution and Bill of Rights should not apply to prisoners held at Guantanamo Bay, especially as they were not US citizens. But the US Supreme Court, even this conservative one, and other US Courts did not buy those arguments. Thank heavens for us all, they reaffirmed prisoners' rights, time and again, in a series of decisions.
Finally, on 21 January 2009, shortly after being sworn into office, President Barack Obama issued an Executive Order, not only reinstating the writ of habeas corpus but also ordering the "immediate" review of the status of each detainee together with a "prompt and thorough" review of the circumstances of all those who had been charged with offenses, and providing specifically for the closure of the detention facility at Guantanamo Bay. That task has proven to be much more difficult than we had all hoped.
Yesterday's article about our recently arrived asylum seeker featured an interview with another former prisoner at Guantanamo. Mourad Benchellali, a French national of Algerian origin, was held at Guantanamo for two and one-half years, before being released to French authorities in 2004. He spent another two years behind bars in France until his eventual release in 2006. He stated that he has been able to reintegrate into French society primarily because he grew up in France and knew how the system worked. He is now employed as a tile installer ("carreleur"), is married and has a child. He still has residual trauma from his years behind bars. Mr. Benchellali believes that it will be more difficult for the gentleman from Uzbekistan to integrate into Swiss society because he will not have had the same cultural background and that therefore Swiss social services will have to help him more than French authorities helped Mr. Benchellali.
Some comments below the story reflect that some individuals cannot understand why the asylum seeker was not simply returned to Uzbekistan. Others, more knowledgeable about the situation in Uzbekistan and the likelihood of further persecution, if not outright torture or death there, note that asylum to a third country was the only option. In today's paper, it was noted that the gentleman is a pastry cook ("pâtissier") and that this profession was one of the considerations in accepting his relocation here.
Well done for Switzerland.
The Swiss agreed to grant asylum to this individual in December on humanitarian grounds, after he had spent the past seven years at Guantanamo.
Seven years without ever being charged with an offense! Seven! Years! Without! Being! Charged! Seven years without ever once being allowed to clear one's name!
A travesty of justice? Well, er ... yes.
Long, long ago, in 1215, at Runnymede, King John of England was forced by his barons to sign a document known as the Magna Carta. The powers of the King, up to then practically limitless, were for the first time limited in an agreed-upon manner, even if the agreement on the King's side was coerced. Certain rights of his subjects were explicitly protected. Among rights that were implicitly protected was the right of appeal against unlawful imprisonment. That right of appeal against unlawful imprisonment ultimately developed into what is now known as the writ of habeas corpus. The Magna Carta forever changed the course of legal history in the English-speaking world and influenced common law systems. It had a profound influence on the United States Constitution, into which the writ of habeas corpus was incorporated. Article One, Section 9 of the Constitution states: "The privilege of the writ of habeas corpus shall not be suspended, unless when in cases of rebellion or invasion, the public safety requires it." [emphasis mine] A writ of habeas corpus is used as a legal avenue to challenge pretrial detention, even when those detained are not US citizens.
The writ of habeas corpus was suspended at extraordinary times and in certain areas throughout the relatively short history of the United States. For example, President Abraham Lincoln suspended it in 1862 during the American Civil War in Maryland and parts of midwestern states. President Ulysses S. Grant suspended it in the early 1870s against nine counties in South Carolina as part of federal civil rights action against the Ku Klux Klan. The writ was suspended from 1942 to 1944 in Hawaii by President Franklin Roosevelt, following the imposition of martial law there in the wake of the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor. Although each of these suspensions was considered controversial even at the time, it was also arguable that in each case, there was a genuine issue of public safety that tipped the scales in favor of the suspension. In each case, once the public safety issue was resolved, however, the suspension was lifted as soon as possible thereafter so that the court system could function normally.
Former President George W. Bush did something unprecedented in a democracy, however. He did not actually suspend the writ. He totally ignored it. On 13 November 2001, he issued a Military Order stating that individuals could be held indefinitely without charges being filed against them, without a court hearing, and without entitlement to a legal consultant. This Order was not only in direct opposition to a person's right to a writ of habeas corpus, but also to a person's rights to counsel and to a fair and speedy trial as specifically provided for in the US Bill of Rights. Bush Administration lawyers used contrived definitions and circumstances to argue how and why the US Constitution and Bill of Rights should not apply to prisoners held at Guantanamo Bay, especially as they were not US citizens. But the US Supreme Court, even this conservative one, and other US Courts did not buy those arguments. Thank heavens for us all, they reaffirmed prisoners' rights, time and again, in a series of decisions.
Finally, on 21 January 2009, shortly after being sworn into office, President Barack Obama issued an Executive Order, not only reinstating the writ of habeas corpus but also ordering the "immediate" review of the status of each detainee together with a "prompt and thorough" review of the circumstances of all those who had been charged with offenses, and providing specifically for the closure of the detention facility at Guantanamo Bay. That task has proven to be much more difficult than we had all hoped.
Yesterday's article about our recently arrived asylum seeker featured an interview with another former prisoner at Guantanamo. Mourad Benchellali, a French national of Algerian origin, was held at Guantanamo for two and one-half years, before being released to French authorities in 2004. He spent another two years behind bars in France until his eventual release in 2006. He stated that he has been able to reintegrate into French society primarily because he grew up in France and knew how the system worked. He is now employed as a tile installer ("carreleur"), is married and has a child. He still has residual trauma from his years behind bars. Mr. Benchellali believes that it will be more difficult for the gentleman from Uzbekistan to integrate into Swiss society because he will not have had the same cultural background and that therefore Swiss social services will have to help him more than French authorities helped Mr. Benchellali.
Some comments below the story reflect that some individuals cannot understand why the asylum seeker was not simply returned to Uzbekistan. Others, more knowledgeable about the situation in Uzbekistan and the likelihood of further persecution, if not outright torture or death there, note that asylum to a third country was the only option. In today's paper, it was noted that the gentleman is a pastry cook ("pâtissier") and that this profession was one of the considerations in accepting his relocation here.
Well done for Switzerland.
27 January 2010
"He Who Must Be Obeyed"
Thanks to some of my family members who have let me know by email that they have been reading some of my blog posts ... by the way, you who are wading through these are all awesome! ... I understand that I need to clarify somewhat my "HWMBO" reference to my spouse.
The acronym comes from the expression "He Who Must Be Obeyed" which I mentioned in my first post. Since then, I have referenced him as "HWMBO." Anyone who knows HWMBO understands that he is a person who is used to being obeyed. At the same time, he is not only a lovely and compassionate human being, but a wonderful husband, good father and stepfather, great provider, loyal, brave, true and utterly dependable.
His astrological sign is Leo and, in so many ways, he epitomizes the most positive characteristics of that sign. Leos typically are monarchs among humans in the same way that the lion is considered to be king of beasts. In HWMBO's case, those leonine tendencies are reinforced by his given name, which is related to the word for "king" in Romance languages. Fortuitously, Leos are considered to be very compatible with Sagittarians.
The reference that I use is a very loose parody taken from the works of the recently deceased British writer John Mortimer. In addition to being a champion of human rights and, in my opinion, a kindred spirit, Mortimer was a prolific dramatist, screenwriter and author, as well as a barrister, i.e., a lawyer who presents cases and advocates before a court. Mortimer's best-known literary creation was the beloved Horace Rumpole, a barrister whose specialty is defending those accused of crime before London's Central Criminal Court, otherwise known as the Old Bailey. Rumpole of the Bailey was developed into a popular series of books and television programs in Great Britain. Many have been televised in the US by PBS.
Rumpole, clearly a middle-aged plus gentleman in the series, has a wife of many years, Hilda, of whom he is quite fond even though he secretly refers to her as "She Who Must Be Obeyed." Given several relevant analogies between the Rumpoles' marital situation and our own, I borrowed the idea from Mr. Mortimer, with all due apologies to him and his heirs for taking the liberty.
I hope that this explanation clears up the mystery. If nothing else, I hope that you'll enjoy some episodes of Rumpole of the Bailey.
The acronym comes from the expression "He Who Must Be Obeyed" which I mentioned in my first post. Since then, I have referenced him as "HWMBO." Anyone who knows HWMBO understands that he is a person who is used to being obeyed. At the same time, he is not only a lovely and compassionate human being, but a wonderful husband, good father and stepfather, great provider, loyal, brave, true and utterly dependable.
The reference that I use is a very loose parody taken from the works of the recently deceased British writer John Mortimer. In addition to being a champion of human rights and, in my opinion, a kindred spirit, Mortimer was a prolific dramatist, screenwriter and author, as well as a barrister, i.e., a lawyer who presents cases and advocates before a court. Mortimer's best-known literary creation was the beloved Horace Rumpole, a barrister whose specialty is defending those accused of crime before London's Central Criminal Court, otherwise known as the Old Bailey. Rumpole of the Bailey was developed into a popular series of books and television programs in Great Britain. Many have been televised in the US by PBS.
Rumpole, clearly a middle-aged plus gentleman in the series, has a wife of many years, Hilda, of whom he is quite fond even though he secretly refers to her as "She Who Must Be Obeyed." Given several relevant analogies between the Rumpoles' marital situation and our own, I borrowed the idea from Mr. Mortimer, with all due apologies to him and his heirs for taking the liberty.
I hope that this explanation clears up the mystery. If nothing else, I hope that you'll enjoy some episodes of Rumpole of the Bailey.
26 January 2010
A "Living" Wage
One of the great pleasures I have when I am in the United States is listening to National Public Radio while I am working on other things. It is wonderful to discover that even here in Switzerland, I am able to get podcasts of at least some of my favorite shows. National Public Radio (NPR) and its sister network, Public Broadcasting System (PBS) are literally the only two electronic communications systems in the US that actually provide worthwhile news coverage and in-depth analyses of issues, in my opinion. Our much vaunted "freedom of the press" has in too many ways shown itself to be wholly subservient to corporate bidding. Unfortunately, our knowledge and understanding of much, if not most, of what is actually happening in the world has been literally dumbed-down and biased as a result. The most blatant example of right-wing bias, in the opinion of many, is the Fox News Network, also known in the blogosphere variously as "Faux News," "Faux Noise," or even simply "Fux," among others.
Even NPR and PBS have not been immune to some trending to the political right since the 1980s, however. Censorship to some extent also exists there. But they still broadcast many programs that give me hope that we will someday find our way back, if not to the ideal, at least to what we used to take for granted. In my opinion, re-establishment of the "Fairness Doctrine" would help immensely. But I will most likely not see that in my lifetime because too many powerful and moneyed interests oppose its return.
One NPR program that HWMBO and I both particularly enjoy is the Kojo Nnamdi Show. Kojo covers a broad variety of topics in order to better educate his listeners. Most make for fascinating listening. But I found one recent broadcast to be quite shocking. That broadcast occurred on 13 January and gave a "back of the house view" of the Washington restaurant scene.
What shocked me is that the guests on the program asserted that the wages paid to most restaurant staff in Washington, DC amounted to little more than USD 2.00 per hour. !!!??? What is supposed to happen is that patrons are "expected" to tip 20 per cent of the bill, to make up the difference between the staff salaries and a "living" wage. Of course, since most patrons consider a tip to be an indication that they have received good service, those who do not consider that they have received good service, or who are simply mean-spirited in general, don't tip at all. All of the nameless persons who serve "at the back of the house" are then stiffed.
Nor do most restaurant staff receive sick leave or vacation days. Health insurance or retirement benefits? Fuggettaboutit!
When I was a university student in the 1960s, like most of my working-class colleagues, I was able to afford tuition costs by supplementing my parents' contributions towards my education with a combination of academic scholarships, student loans, summer work and university work-study programs. I worked as a salesclerk at the largest department store, known by a rather grandiose name, "The Paris of Montana," in the small city where my school was located. In addition, I was a waitress and a switchboard operator. As a salesclerk, I earned the then-minimum wage of USD 1.50 per hour. Under the university work study programs, I earned USD .85 per hour. The university was private and therefore was allowed to pay me less. But I also had the advantage of not having to commute to work for those jobs because I lived on-campus. Income and social security taxes were deducted from my paychecks, so my actual take-home pay was much less than the gross per hour amounts. But I was a student at the time and those jobs were always intended to be temporary. As a student, I also had health insurance coverage.
In those days, everything also cost a lot less. For example, when I received my Bachelor of Arts degree, my total student loan indebtedness was USD 500. At the time, it seemed quite a lot. The amount is farcical in light of student costs today.
What has happened in the United States that we seem to have literally gone backwards in time? From being one of the most prosperous, vital, energetic and optimistic countries, in many ways a role model, we have regressed to conditions that resemble those in some developing nations, nations that we simply refuse to acknowledge have progressed at least to our level. And many of those nations even have universal health care. The US does not. Arguably, health conditions in those countries may not be the most desirable, but people are at least getting treatment there without having to go bankrupt.
While having lunch with Healer Sis and Sis-In-Law at a trendy little DC establishment, I mentioned having listened to Kojo's program and they too were shocked. They couldn't believe it. Healer Sis called over a young waiter, who looked like a college student himself, and asked him what the salaries there were. He readily answered that they were a little more than USD 2.00 an hour. My companions were stunned. He chuckled when he saw our faces and said, "I'm from San Francisco. They pay USD 10.00 an hour there ... a living wage."
There was no question of anything less than a 20 per cent tip after that.
Abraham Lincoln issued the Emancipation Proclamation in 1863. But slavery clearly exists in America today.
Even NPR and PBS have not been immune to some trending to the political right since the 1980s, however. Censorship to some extent also exists there. But they still broadcast many programs that give me hope that we will someday find our way back, if not to the ideal, at least to what we used to take for granted. In my opinion, re-establishment of the "Fairness Doctrine" would help immensely. But I will most likely not see that in my lifetime because too many powerful and moneyed interests oppose its return.
One NPR program that HWMBO and I both particularly enjoy is the Kojo Nnamdi Show. Kojo covers a broad variety of topics in order to better educate his listeners. Most make for fascinating listening. But I found one recent broadcast to be quite shocking. That broadcast occurred on 13 January and gave a "back of the house view" of the Washington restaurant scene.
What shocked me is that the guests on the program asserted that the wages paid to most restaurant staff in Washington, DC amounted to little more than USD 2.00 per hour. !!!??? What is supposed to happen is that patrons are "expected" to tip 20 per cent of the bill, to make up the difference between the staff salaries and a "living" wage. Of course, since most patrons consider a tip to be an indication that they have received good service, those who do not consider that they have received good service, or who are simply mean-spirited in general, don't tip at all. All of the nameless persons who serve "at the back of the house" are then stiffed.
Nor do most restaurant staff receive sick leave or vacation days. Health insurance or retirement benefits? Fuggettaboutit!
When I was a university student in the 1960s, like most of my working-class colleagues, I was able to afford tuition costs by supplementing my parents' contributions towards my education with a combination of academic scholarships, student loans, summer work and university work-study programs. I worked as a salesclerk at the largest department store, known by a rather grandiose name, "The Paris of Montana," in the small city where my school was located. In addition, I was a waitress and a switchboard operator. As a salesclerk, I earned the then-minimum wage of USD 1.50 per hour. Under the university work study programs, I earned USD .85 per hour. The university was private and therefore was allowed to pay me less. But I also had the advantage of not having to commute to work for those jobs because I lived on-campus. Income and social security taxes were deducted from my paychecks, so my actual take-home pay was much less than the gross per hour amounts. But I was a student at the time and those jobs were always intended to be temporary. As a student, I also had health insurance coverage.
In those days, everything also cost a lot less. For example, when I received my Bachelor of Arts degree, my total student loan indebtedness was USD 500. At the time, it seemed quite a lot. The amount is farcical in light of student costs today.
What has happened in the United States that we seem to have literally gone backwards in time? From being one of the most prosperous, vital, energetic and optimistic countries, in many ways a role model, we have regressed to conditions that resemble those in some developing nations, nations that we simply refuse to acknowledge have progressed at least to our level. And many of those nations even have universal health care. The US does not. Arguably, health conditions in those countries may not be the most desirable, but people are at least getting treatment there without having to go bankrupt.
While having lunch with Healer Sis and Sis-In-Law at a trendy little DC establishment, I mentioned having listened to Kojo's program and they too were shocked. They couldn't believe it. Healer Sis called over a young waiter, who looked like a college student himself, and asked him what the salaries there were. He readily answered that they were a little more than USD 2.00 an hour. My companions were stunned. He chuckled when he saw our faces and said, "I'm from San Francisco. They pay USD 10.00 an hour there ... a living wage."
There was no question of anything less than a 20 per cent tip after that.
Abraham Lincoln issued the Emancipation Proclamation in 1863. But slavery clearly exists in America today.
All women who have hearts ...
Forty-four years ago yesterday, I became a mother for the first time.
I was 22 then. Because my eldest, Big T, is now 44, you can do the math ... and yes, it is startling, to say the least. Even I can't believe it and I've been here the whole time. Where did the years go? There have been many things said about motherhood, some humorous, some profound and some both at once. No doubt many more things will be said before all is said and done. Motherhood is one of the strangest and most wonderful of circumstances. Motherhood can be, at the same time, one of the most fulfilling as well as the most frustrating of professions. If our own mothers had not had the courage to bear us, none of us would be here now.
One of the most interesting things about motherhood is that one does not actually have to give birth to be a mother. An adoptive mother can be every bit as caring and nurturing as a birth mother. However one achieves motherhood, the job requirements are the same. Among other qualities, one must have lots of love, even more patience, tolerance for routine, boredom, exhaustion and yes, even sorrow. One must show flexibility, adaptability, willingness to re-examine the world from a new perspective, firmness to instill a desire for excellence and full achievement of potential, discipline when it is required, and strength to encourage a young individual to develop his or her own personality at the same time as one struggles to keep one's own. Above all, one must have a sense of humor and an ability to laugh at oneself. Without that last, we are lost.
A wise woman, Elizabeth Cady Stanton, once said "Though motherhood is the most important of all the professions -- requiring more knowledge than any other department in human affairs -- there was no attention given to preparation for this office." While this lack of preparation is true for fatherhood as well, I simply cannot speak from the male perspective.
When I became a mother, the role models that I had were my own mother and my aunts. My maternal aunts were numerous because my mother came from a family of seven sisters. For the most part, all lived within a day's drive of our family. In most cases, none worked outside the home while the children were small, although several aunts who were married to farmers also pitched in and did at least as many of the daily chores required for farm labor as did their husbands -- whether the children were small or not. In all cases, each family had more than one child. Most had five, so I had scads of cousins. I was also the oldest of five siblings. It was understood, even expected, that we older children would automatically help care for, instruct and help the younger ones, and so we did. It was also expected that the younger ones would be integrated into the daily family life cycle, sooner rather than later, themselves learning to help with appropriate tasks, including caring for siblings even younger than they.
Not much was available in written form about parenting at the time. When my son, then Little T, born in the United States, was around three months old, we returned to Morocco to be with his father and spent the next four years living there. His brother, then Little S, was born in Morocco, 15 months younger than his brother. It was almost like having twins. I had to raise both boys during those early years without my family support system. Thankfully, I was able to turn to Dr. Benjamin Spock and my trusty, well-worn copy of Baby and Child Care, chock full of practical, common sense advice. What sanity I am blessed with today, I am convinced that I owe to Dr. Spock.
When Little T, at six months old, hit his forehead on the marble floor after falling from a cushion where he had been sitting, I was sure that I had, in effect, either killed or at least permanently maimed him. Because I had no way of getting him to a doctor and no telephone to call one, in near hysterics, I rushed him to the nearest neighbor who was also a practicing nurse. After ascertaining that there appeared to be no major obvious harm other than significant swelling on his forehead and that he was howling lustily, she commented that the forehead, of all parts of the head, was that best equipped to take hard knocks. She then kindly sat this hysterical mother down, gave her a cup of tea and sent her home with instructions to watch the baby carefully and keep him awake until his regular bed time.
Given that he celebrated his 44th birthday yesterday, he appears to have survived that early trauma. We'll never know whether that incident forever destroyed his chances of being the next Einstein. In any event, the feelings of guilt that he had been harmed at all would have paralyzed me from that day forward if Dr. Spock's book hadn't assured me that a few bumps at that age were actually good signs that I was not being an "overprotective" mother. Whew!
As I look back over the years, I see that I made many mistakes in raising my children. I am not perfect -- far from it. There are so many things that I didn't do that I wish that I had done and many others that I wish that I had done differently. But one doesn't generally get do-overs in this life. We have to live with things as they are.
All I know is that since the first time that I saw that little head, I loved that baby, just as I later loved his brother. I still love the men that they have become and I am very proud of them both.
And I always will be.
I was 22 then. Because my eldest, Big T, is now 44, you can do the math ... and yes, it is startling, to say the least. Even I can't believe it and I've been here the whole time. Where did the years go? There have been many things said about motherhood, some humorous, some profound and some both at once. No doubt many more things will be said before all is said and done. Motherhood is one of the strangest and most wonderful of circumstances. Motherhood can be, at the same time, one of the most fulfilling as well as the most frustrating of professions. If our own mothers had not had the courage to bear us, none of us would be here now.
One of the most interesting things about motherhood is that one does not actually have to give birth to be a mother. An adoptive mother can be every bit as caring and nurturing as a birth mother. However one achieves motherhood, the job requirements are the same. Among other qualities, one must have lots of love, even more patience, tolerance for routine, boredom, exhaustion and yes, even sorrow. One must show flexibility, adaptability, willingness to re-examine the world from a new perspective, firmness to instill a desire for excellence and full achievement of potential, discipline when it is required, and strength to encourage a young individual to develop his or her own personality at the same time as one struggles to keep one's own. Above all, one must have a sense of humor and an ability to laugh at oneself. Without that last, we are lost.
A wise woman, Elizabeth Cady Stanton, once said "Though motherhood is the most important of all the professions -- requiring more knowledge than any other department in human affairs -- there was no attention given to preparation for this office." While this lack of preparation is true for fatherhood as well, I simply cannot speak from the male perspective.
When I became a mother, the role models that I had were my own mother and my aunts. My maternal aunts were numerous because my mother came from a family of seven sisters. For the most part, all lived within a day's drive of our family. In most cases, none worked outside the home while the children were small, although several aunts who were married to farmers also pitched in and did at least as many of the daily chores required for farm labor as did their husbands -- whether the children were small or not. In all cases, each family had more than one child. Most had five, so I had scads of cousins. I was also the oldest of five siblings. It was understood, even expected, that we older children would automatically help care for, instruct and help the younger ones, and so we did. It was also expected that the younger ones would be integrated into the daily family life cycle, sooner rather than later, themselves learning to help with appropriate tasks, including caring for siblings even younger than they.
Not much was available in written form about parenting at the time. When my son, then Little T, born in the United States, was around three months old, we returned to Morocco to be with his father and spent the next four years living there. His brother, then Little S, was born in Morocco, 15 months younger than his brother. It was almost like having twins. I had to raise both boys during those early years without my family support system. Thankfully, I was able to turn to Dr. Benjamin Spock and my trusty, well-worn copy of Baby and Child Care, chock full of practical, common sense advice. What sanity I am blessed with today, I am convinced that I owe to Dr. Spock.
When Little T, at six months old, hit his forehead on the marble floor after falling from a cushion where he had been sitting, I was sure that I had, in effect, either killed or at least permanently maimed him. Because I had no way of getting him to a doctor and no telephone to call one, in near hysterics, I rushed him to the nearest neighbor who was also a practicing nurse. After ascertaining that there appeared to be no major obvious harm other than significant swelling on his forehead and that he was howling lustily, she commented that the forehead, of all parts of the head, was that best equipped to take hard knocks. She then kindly sat this hysterical mother down, gave her a cup of tea and sent her home with instructions to watch the baby carefully and keep him awake until his regular bed time.
Given that he celebrated his 44th birthday yesterday, he appears to have survived that early trauma. We'll never know whether that incident forever destroyed his chances of being the next Einstein. In any event, the feelings of guilt that he had been harmed at all would have paralyzed me from that day forward if Dr. Spock's book hadn't assured me that a few bumps at that age were actually good signs that I was not being an "overprotective" mother. Whew!
As I look back over the years, I see that I made many mistakes in raising my children. I am not perfect -- far from it. There are so many things that I didn't do that I wish that I had done and many others that I wish that I had done differently. But one doesn't generally get do-overs in this life. We have to live with things as they are.
All I know is that since the first time that I saw that little head, I loved that baby, just as I later loved his brother. I still love the men that they have become and I am very proud of them both.
And I always will be.
25 January 2010
Night and Fog
Last evening, TSR2 showed the French documentary "Nuit et Brouillard," (in English, "Night and Fog") directed by Alain Resnais and shot in 1955, ten years after the liberation of the Nazi concentration camps. The film features then-contemporary photos of the abandoned grounds of Auschwitz and Majdanek concentration camps, while describing the lives of prisoners in the camps. Last night's film was shown in French only, but here is a version on Google video with English subtitles. It's short, a bare half-hour, but the horrors it encompasses resonate long afterwards.
There have been many other films, both documentary and historical fiction, since then that discuss these subjects, many in more depth and length, but this was the first literally to burst upon the international film scene. It also caused controversy when it was first distributed. In fact, it very nearly was not distributed at all.
At the end of the film, person after person stands before tribunals at Nuremberg, saying "Je ne suis pas responsable," (the French translation of "I am not responsible" -- the individuals concerned were most assuredly speaking in German). One description of the film notes that there is a dual meaning behind the title. First, it references the arrival of interned prisoners under the cloak of darkness, and second, it references the conscious suppression of knowledge and culpability for the "resulting horror of the committed atrocities."
While it is fervently to be hoped that the horrors and scope of the Holocaust during the Nazi regime will always be stand-alone, never to be replicated, events, it appears that the worst of human nature has not yet run its course. So long as a detention situation like Guantanamo exists, for example, where individuals have been imprisoned for years without ever being able to defend themselves in a court of law, many of whom there simply because they happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time or to have been on the wrong side of a powerful warlord who collected a bounty for their delivery whether they were actually guilty of anything or not, we Americans are on shaky moral ground to point fingers at anyone else. This is true, even though there are many -- far too many in fact -- nations whose actions are every bit as atrocious, or worse.
If "je ne suis pas responsable," who is? And when will "they" be held accountable?
There have been many other films, both documentary and historical fiction, since then that discuss these subjects, many in more depth and length, but this was the first literally to burst upon the international film scene. It also caused controversy when it was first distributed. In fact, it very nearly was not distributed at all.
At the end of the film, person after person stands before tribunals at Nuremberg, saying "Je ne suis pas responsable," (the French translation of "I am not responsible" -- the individuals concerned were most assuredly speaking in German). One description of the film notes that there is a dual meaning behind the title. First, it references the arrival of interned prisoners under the cloak of darkness, and second, it references the conscious suppression of knowledge and culpability for the "resulting horror of the committed atrocities."
While it is fervently to be hoped that the horrors and scope of the Holocaust during the Nazi regime will always be stand-alone, never to be replicated, events, it appears that the worst of human nature has not yet run its course. So long as a detention situation like Guantanamo exists, for example, where individuals have been imprisoned for years without ever being able to defend themselves in a court of law, many of whom there simply because they happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time or to have been on the wrong side of a powerful warlord who collected a bounty for their delivery whether they were actually guilty of anything or not, we Americans are on shaky moral ground to point fingers at anyone else. This is true, even though there are many -- far too many in fact -- nations whose actions are every bit as atrocious, or worse.
If "je ne suis pas responsable," who is? And when will "they" be held accountable?
"Tyger! Tyger! burning bright ... "
The Tiger is considered to be a very powerful symbol in Oriental astrology. Because I want my youngest grandson, whose heritage is a mixture of Asian, European and North African cultures, to be strong against the many "slings and arrows of outrageous fortune" he will encounter in life, I have often thought of and referred to him as "Prince Tiger." If anything at this stage, he is a very cuddly cub. Imagining him as a tiger in any way boggles the mind.
Over the past several weeks, very sordid stories have entered the public consciousness about another young man. Like me, his mother wanted nothing but the best for him. She knew that he would have to be especially strong against everything that he would have to face in life. Because of that, she deliberately chose to name him "Tiger." Her Tiger accomplished magnificent things and has served as a role model to inspire many.
Unfortunately, the Tiger symbol also has a dark side that needs to be mastered. That dark side has not served that unfortunate young man well. Nor have those humans who should have known better and who enabled his bad behavior. Those individuals are responsible for their own actions and their own accounts will undoubtedly be settled one day. In the meantime, I hope that the young man sincerely accepts the help that he needs in order to turn his life around again.
But I want our own little Prince, who is not actually named Tiger, to have many of the attributes of that powerful symbol so that he too will be strong in life. So that there will hopefully not be such an obvious link to the now infamous Tiger and, hopefully, no corresponding fall from grace later on, from now on I choose to refer to him as "Prince Tyger."
"The Tyger" is the name of a very famous poem by the English classical poet, William Blake. It is strange and wonderful and is among the most quoted of English poems, although most remember primarily the first and last verses, which are the same except for one word.
The "Tyger" referred to is generally understood to be a metaphor, but there are differing interpretations of that metaphor. Blake also wrote what is generally considered to be a "sister" poem called "The Lamb." People generally interpret "The Lamb" as innocence, good, serenity, even as God (Blake was a very religious person even though he was not too enthusiastic about organized religion), whereas "The Tyger" is often understood to signify experience, turmoil, even to some, evil, i.e., entirely the opposite of "The Lamb." For one person's thoughtful interpretation, see here. Interestingly, he does not necessarily see "The Tyger" as evil, nor do I. He sees rather the "transcendent mystery at the very heart of creation -- and a certain terrible beauty." That is an interesting choice of words and evokes for me the duality of human nature. How can man at once create such things as strange and wonderful as the Bamyan Buddhas, for instance, and, once having created, then destroy them? We see such dichotomies on a daily basis, dichotomies that exist even within the same individuals, incomprehensible dichotomies similar to those represented in the very unfortunate Tiger who is currently in the headlines. But there is not really an "either-or" answer to them; the world is neither entirely black nor entirely white. It is much more complex. Indeed, we humans are much more complex.
These are very weighty considerations to place on the tiny shoulders of an unsuspecting 16-month-old. But my precious Prince Tyger will no doubt see, have to confront and understand such dichotomies in his own life and the lives of others, hopefully with compassion, when he is old enough to understand what they are. For that, he will need all the strength that he can get. So, if "Tyger" helps him, so much the better.
Over the past several weeks, very sordid stories have entered the public consciousness about another young man. Like me, his mother wanted nothing but the best for him. She knew that he would have to be especially strong against everything that he would have to face in life. Because of that, she deliberately chose to name him "Tiger." Her Tiger accomplished magnificent things and has served as a role model to inspire many.
Unfortunately, the Tiger symbol also has a dark side that needs to be mastered. That dark side has not served that unfortunate young man well. Nor have those humans who should have known better and who enabled his bad behavior. Those individuals are responsible for their own actions and their own accounts will undoubtedly be settled one day. In the meantime, I hope that the young man sincerely accepts the help that he needs in order to turn his life around again.
But I want our own little Prince, who is not actually named Tiger, to have many of the attributes of that powerful symbol so that he too will be strong in life. So that there will hopefully not be such an obvious link to the now infamous Tiger and, hopefully, no corresponding fall from grace later on, from now on I choose to refer to him as "Prince Tyger."
"The Tyger" is the name of a very famous poem by the English classical poet, William Blake. It is strange and wonderful and is among the most quoted of English poems, although most remember primarily the first and last verses, which are the same except for one word.
"Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could [Dare] frame thy fearful symmetry?"
The "Tyger" referred to is generally understood to be a metaphor, but there are differing interpretations of that metaphor. Blake also wrote what is generally considered to be a "sister" poem called "The Lamb." People generally interpret "The Lamb" as innocence, good, serenity, even as God (Blake was a very religious person even though he was not too enthusiastic about organized religion), whereas "The Tyger" is often understood to signify experience, turmoil, even to some, evil, i.e., entirely the opposite of "The Lamb." For one person's thoughtful interpretation, see here. Interestingly, he does not necessarily see "The Tyger" as evil, nor do I. He sees rather the "transcendent mystery at the very heart of creation -- and a certain terrible beauty." That is an interesting choice of words and evokes for me the duality of human nature. How can man at once create such things as strange and wonderful as the Bamyan Buddhas, for instance, and, once having created, then destroy them? We see such dichotomies on a daily basis, dichotomies that exist even within the same individuals, incomprehensible dichotomies similar to those represented in the very unfortunate Tiger who is currently in the headlines. But there is not really an "either-or" answer to them; the world is neither entirely black nor entirely white. It is much more complex. Indeed, we humans are much more complex.
These are very weighty considerations to place on the tiny shoulders of an unsuspecting 16-month-old. But my precious Prince Tyger will no doubt see, have to confront and understand such dichotomies in his own life and the lives of others, hopefully with compassion, when he is old enough to understand what they are. For that, he will need all the strength that he can get. So, if "Tyger" helps him, so much the better.
24 January 2010
Memory snippets ...
The past six weeks literally flew by. The holiday season is always a busy one and this one was no different. It was chock full of the usual holiday-related festivities: concerts, special events, exhibitions, sports and especially, family gatherings. There were good moments, and some ... not so good. The one particularly bad experience was losing HWMBO in the Metro on the way to the Terra Cotta Warriors exhibition at the National Geographic Museum. But that's a tale for another time. All's well that ends well and the evening ended well for all of us, except that neither HWMBO nor I ever did make it to the actual exhibition. I was accosted by a Terra Cotta Warrior in the flesh at the ticket booth, however, so I guess that counts for something. He looked pretty good for his age.
We were all surprised one week after my arrival in Maryland by one of the most impressive snowfalls in recent memory. It gave a traditional touch to the season. Fortunately, it occurred on a Sunday. Most people did not have to go to work and schools were closed. Trying to get anywhere by car would have been practically impossible.
Many neighborhoods were like ours; everyone helped dig everyone else out once the snow stopped falling ... the mood was relaxed and we all had a good time chatting and renewing contact with one another. The neighbor children, of course, all happily brought out sleds, going up and down the small hills nearby with such energy that it was exhausting to watch .
The visiting with neighbors is something that we don't do often enough and we always wonder why because it's so enjoyable ... before we return to our usual lifestyles. HWMBO took his turn with the snow shovel and yes, I did my share too.
It was cold enough that the snow lasted several days. But when relatively warm weather returned, the snowmelt caused flooding and the Little Patuxent River, generally a small brook where it runs behind our house, turned into a torrent. Fortunately, even during hurricanes, the protected wetlands nearby absorb the overflow.
The wetlands, sandwiched between the highway and the rear of our development, support an amazing amount and variety of wildlife species, given that we are in a major metropolitan area. I love to walk through the area and always see something interesting, although it was much too wet and muddy to walk there for most of my visit this time. I have seen deer, beaver, and tons of gray squirrels, of course, in my very superficial visits. I have also have spotted sparrows, robins, cardinals, blue jays, orioles and, on occasion, a very graceful blue heron in addition to the ducks, swans and Canadian geese that live in the small lake nearby. During my last couple visits, I noticed that quite a few trees had been felled by the beavers who appear to be thriving and, in general, doing what beavers do. On one memorable occasion some years ago, I saw a pair of red foxes. They melted back into the morning mist, leaving me breathless with the beauty of the moment.
Since it was the holiday season, family gatherings, accompanied by lots of food, were very much l'ordre du jour. Here are some candid flashbacks.
LumberJax (#2 Nephew) and Sweet E (#1 Niece) eager to begin having some holiday food. Caps appear to be de rigueur for this particular meal. They're always a good way to disguise "bed head."
LumberJax, Big T and Artist Sis, relaxing for a few moments as they prepare to open gifts. Yes, it is hard work.
The star attraction, Prince Tyger (Baby Grandson), ignoring the "grown-ups" as he maneuvers his brand-new fire truck around the room. He hasn't yet realized that he's actually supposed to get inside it and drive. But he has the sound effects down pat.
Artist Sis with Healer Sis, with someone other than an angel giving Healer Sis an inverted halo.
The "Hostess with the Mostest,'" Momma D, sharing a glass of wine with her Big Sis B before serving dinner to at least 35 people.
HWMBO with Teenager J (#3 Grandson), admiring a new digital camera. Catch the pony tail, HWMBO's latest hairstyle. I find it rather dashing. He likes it because he doesn't have to go to the barber so often. But he has to use the blow dryer for the first time in his life and he now has a glimmer of what the fairer sex goes through on a daily basis.
Sweet K (#1 Daughter), with SO S, and Big J (#1 Step), sharing a quiet moment before things get too lively and the food service begins.
Sweet C (#1 Teen Granddaughter) with big brother, Teenager C (#2 Grandson), with the "magic" ping pong paddle suspended in air to hide his face, biding their time until the food service.
It was cold enough that the snow lasted several days. But when relatively warm weather returned, the snowmelt caused flooding and the Little Patuxent River, generally a small brook where it runs behind our house, turned into a torrent. Fortunately, even during hurricanes, the protected wetlands nearby absorb the overflow.
LumberJax (#2 Nephew) and Sweet E (#1 Niece) eager to begin having some holiday food. Caps appear to be de rigueur for this particular meal. They're always a good way to disguise "bed head."
LumberJax, Big T and Artist Sis, relaxing for a few moments as they prepare to open gifts. Yes, it is hard work.
Artist Sis with Healer Sis, with someone other than an angel giving Healer Sis an inverted halo.
The "Hostess with the Mostest,'" Momma D, sharing a glass of wine with her Big Sis B before serving dinner to at least 35 people.
HWMBO with Teenager J (#3 Grandson), admiring a new digital camera. Catch the pony tail, HWMBO's latest hairstyle. I find it rather dashing. He likes it because he doesn't have to go to the barber so often. But he has to use the blow dryer for the first time in his life and he now has a glimmer of what the fairer sex goes through on a daily basis.Sweet K (#1 Daughter), with SO S, and Big J (#1 Step), sharing a quiet moment before things get too lively and the food service begins.
Sweet C (#1 Teen Granddaughter) with big brother, Teenager C (#2 Grandson), with the "magic" ping pong paddle suspended in air to hide his face, biding their time until the food service. The aftermath: Momma D in front of her "Tupperware Hellhole," preparing to box up the leftovers!
23 January 2010
"... first in the hearts of his countrymen."
Last Saturday, Healer Sis, Sis-In-Law and I visited Mount Vernon. We had planned to go the preceding weekend, but Sis-In-Law had unfortunately hurt her ankle. Besides, the weather then was much too cold. Last Saturday, the weather in DC was mild, although not quite as spectacularly beautiful and warm as on Thursday and Friday. We decided to use the trusty GPS which generally does a good job of navigating, although Sis-In-Law also wisely printed out the directions furnished on the website. Based on our experience, the website directions are better. The GPS wanted to send us to downtown Alexandria. Because the historical markers clearly indicated that Mount Vernon was in the opposite direction, I turned off the GPS and we just followed the signs and several other cars that were obviously headed that way. Technology is great, but common sense is even better.
In my earlier visits, the Mansion itself was the sole focal point. While the guided walk-through of the Mansion is still a must-do, the improvements have added a lot to the outbuilding areas. The education center is especially worthwhile. One can even see a set of George's dentures there, although those I have pictured here are actually from the Smithsonian Institution. They render a truly great man all too human.
Having myself just been to the dentist the day before, I could sincerely empathize with the excruciating pain that Washington must have suffered during his life. And no, his teeth were not wooden.
What fascinated us most, however, was that the home of our first President was almost sold, forever to be lost to our national heritage, some 60 years after his death. Had that happened, the site would undoubtedly now be the site of some luxury development. The location is a striking one, with its magnificent view over the Potomac River. As it happened, in 1854, an amazing woman, Ann Pamela Cunningham, was the guiding spirit for the formation of the first historic preservation socety in America, The Mount Vernon Ladies' Association of the Union. At that time, the Mansion was delapidated and only three items belonging to Washington could be found on the property. Leave it to the women to raise consciousness and recognize the need for preservation! Unfortunately, during the Civil War disruption that occurred later, restoration works had to be halted. War has a way of adversely affecting constructive developments.
The success of this association led it to become the role model for others. In 2010, Mount Vernon will have a special celebration to commemorate the work of the very dedicated individuals who constituted the Association's first membership. Since then, the States of Virginia and Maryland, which owns the land on the opposite bank of the Potomac, have cooperated in the spirit of preservation so that the view today from Mount Vernon is much the same as it would have been in Washington's day.
Washington was so popular that he could have become a King, but would only accept the role of President, in accordance with the US Constitution. After serving two terms, he returned to live out his days at Mount Vernon with Martha and his family. His hopitality was legendary. Although he was a slaveholder, as were all Virginians of a certain class, Washington felt that human slavery was abominable and that it compromised republican principles. He was not successful in convincing others of that during his lifetime. He insisted that all slaves that he owned be taught a trade, as well as reading and writing. Upon his death, he freed all slaves that he personally owned, which may in large part account for why the 8,000 acre estate he owned at the time of his death became simply 200 acres. There was no one else to do the work in an economically viable manner.
22 January 2010
Something in common
As expected, I crashed definitively this afternoon, from around 14:00 to 18:00, and feel better than I have in several days. For some reason, this week has been a bad one for sleep. I usually have no trouble heading off to the Land of Nod. I'm still saving the gin because I don't believe that I'll need it tonight.
This morning, the carreleur arrived to perform some touch-up repairs on the silicon grouting between the floor tiles and the wall moldings where some small but unsightly holes had appeared in various places. The apartment is still under warranty so I want to be sure to get as much of this work completed now as I can, although as the building continues its settling process, more small defects will likely appear. The plasterer/painter will return to repair some small cracks in the wall, most along the wall-ceiling meeting points. He came early in December to assess the damage, but his business has been on hiatus for most of January, which corresponded with my own period of absence.
After the carreleur left, I managed to accomplish the one goal that I had on my task list for today: getting stocked up on groceries. Anticipating that I wouldn't want to do much cooking tonight (good thinking), I bought a couple of Anna's Best prepared Indian menu entrees. Tonight I opened up the Butter Chicken to find two microwavable packets of saffron rice, instead of one packet of saffron rice and one of butter chicken sauce. Don't you just hate it when that happens? This was a first for me.
What to do? The stores had closed by then and, anyway, I was in no mood to return to Migros. I decided that my karmic destiny this evening was to eat vegetarian, although if I had been more energetic and ambitious, I could have thawed some frozen turkey chunks from Thanksgiving. In the spirit of "If life gives you lemons, make lemonade," I decided that my Butter Chicken sans poulet would have to do. So, I microwaved the rice, chopped up and added a tomato, part of a cucumber, part of an onion, and some mushrooms. To that mixture I added some cumin. Everything savory is better with cumin in it, in my opinion. Together with one glass of water and another of white wine, it made a lovely supper. And I even have some leftover rice for lunch tomorrow.
So, hey, you out there with the two packets of Butter Chicken sauce ... we have a connection!
This morning, the carreleur arrived to perform some touch-up repairs on the silicon grouting between the floor tiles and the wall moldings where some small but unsightly holes had appeared in various places. The apartment is still under warranty so I want to be sure to get as much of this work completed now as I can, although as the building continues its settling process, more small defects will likely appear. The plasterer/painter will return to repair some small cracks in the wall, most along the wall-ceiling meeting points. He came early in December to assess the damage, but his business has been on hiatus for most of January, which corresponded with my own period of absence.
After the carreleur left, I managed to accomplish the one goal that I had on my task list for today: getting stocked up on groceries. Anticipating that I wouldn't want to do much cooking tonight (good thinking), I bought a couple of Anna's Best prepared Indian menu entrees. Tonight I opened up the Butter Chicken to find two microwavable packets of saffron rice, instead of one packet of saffron rice and one of butter chicken sauce. Don't you just hate it when that happens? This was a first for me.
What to do? The stores had closed by then and, anyway, I was in no mood to return to Migros. I decided that my karmic destiny this evening was to eat vegetarian, although if I had been more energetic and ambitious, I could have thawed some frozen turkey chunks from Thanksgiving. In the spirit of "If life gives you lemons, make lemonade," I decided that my Butter Chicken sans poulet would have to do. So, I microwaved the rice, chopped up and added a tomato, part of a cucumber, part of an onion, and some mushrooms. To that mixture I added some cumin. Everything savory is better with cumin in it, in my opinion. Together with one glass of water and another of white wine, it made a lovely supper. And I even have some leftover rice for lunch tomorrow.
So, hey, you out there with the two packets of Butter Chicken sauce ... we have a connection!
Jet-lagging
Well, I've been up more or less since 2:30 this morning. Alas and alack! As is commonly recommended when traveling, I stayed up until my normal bedtime, hoping to sleep through the night without incident. I even eschewed (I love using that word!) the tiny bottle of gin from the transatlantic flight and instead sedately drank water. In retrospect, that may have been a mistake. At least I can look forward to having the gin tonight ... if I need it. I expect that I'll probably crash long before then.
I am not sure what woke me up, if anything. All I know is that I have been wide awake since 2:30 and none of the usual techniques have helped. I finally gave in at 5:30, got up and dressed and have been organizing various odds and ends, feeling quite virtuous. Feeling so fatuously virtuous should put me to sleep.
For the past half-hour, I've been watching the John Isner-Gael Monfils tennis match live from Melbourne. Monfils is an excellent, often brilliant, player, and he had John Isner, also excellent, on the ropes in the third set. But then Monfils lost his focus enough to let Isner back in. They're currently on serve in the fourth. Monfils may rue the outcome in that third set, as well he should. Update: Monfils lost. We've now moved on to cover the match of local Vaud tennis hero, Stan Wawrinka, with Marin Cilic. Surprisingly, because watching a tennis ball bounce back and forth can be soporific, I am still wide awake.
Yesterday, I didn't have much time to see the most recent changes in the third phase of the development that my apartment belongs to, principally because I arrived here as the daylight was waning but also because I wanted to unpack while I was still conscious enough to remember where things should go. As always, it was a small shock to see how gray it was below the clouds when the Alps had shown themselves so scintillatingly white in the blue sky above the cloud cover. It is always a pleasure to be greeted by Mont Blanc, the eternal Snow Queen of the French Alps. Her entire mountain court was splendidly attired as well.
When we bounced a bit on the tarmac while landing, many of us were surprised to see a large greeting committee of several police cars, airport security personnel, and several others standing about in fluorescent green vests. This was extraordinary. This morning's on-line Tribune de Genève gives the reason. No, it was not because there was a special welcome party for our flight, as we were at first flattered to believe. The group was there to see the huge new Airbus 380 (l'A380) take off from Cointrin Airport just after our plane landed.
I am not sure what woke me up, if anything. All I know is that I have been wide awake since 2:30 and none of the usual techniques have helped. I finally gave in at 5:30, got up and dressed and have been organizing various odds and ends, feeling quite virtuous. Feeling so fatuously virtuous should put me to sleep.
For the past half-hour, I've been watching the John Isner-Gael Monfils tennis match live from Melbourne. Monfils is an excellent, often brilliant, player, and he had John Isner, also excellent, on the ropes in the third set. But then Monfils lost his focus enough to let Isner back in. They're currently on serve in the fourth. Monfils may rue the outcome in that third set, as well he should. Update: Monfils lost. We've now moved on to cover the match of local Vaud tennis hero, Stan Wawrinka, with Marin Cilic. Surprisingly, because watching a tennis ball bounce back and forth can be soporific, I am still wide awake.
Yesterday, I didn't have much time to see the most recent changes in the third phase of the development that my apartment belongs to, principally because I arrived here as the daylight was waning but also because I wanted to unpack while I was still conscious enough to remember where things should go. As always, it was a small shock to see how gray it was below the clouds when the Alps had shown themselves so scintillatingly white in the blue sky above the cloud cover. It is always a pleasure to be greeted by Mont Blanc, the eternal Snow Queen of the French Alps. Her entire mountain court was splendidly attired as well.
When we bounced a bit on the tarmac while landing, many of us were surprised to see a large greeting committee of several police cars, airport security personnel, and several others standing about in fluorescent green vests. This was extraordinary. This morning's on-line Tribune de Genève gives the reason. No, it was not because there was a special welcome party for our flight, as we were at first flattered to believe. The group was there to see the huge new Airbus 380 (l'A380) take off from Cointrin Airport just after our plane landed.
21 January 2010
From the East Side of The "Pond" ...
The long trip is over. Having been burned more than once at the Heathrow transfer in London, I decided to book the later connection to Geneva this time, given the compound vagaries of winter travel. Of course, because I had all the time in the world, the flights were actually slightly ahead of schedule and so I am now more tired than I would have been had I taken the earlier connection, for which I had arrived in plenty of time. But still, one never knows. This way, my luggage also arrived at the same time and place that I did. Which is always nice. It was also a shock when I checked in to discover that the checked baggage policy had changed; I had brought two bags to check. Now they accept one only. So I had to pay for the extra suitcase. It was worth it, but still startling. And the clerks will not accept cash, so I had to use a credit card. I wasn't the only person who was surprised by the change. When some passengers mentioned this to a crew member, he responded that, since the near-tragic events at Christmas, the policy has gotten more restrictive. He also mentioned that it does not seem to be applied consistently. So I must learn to pack more efficiently.
The transatlantic flight had the smallest number of passengers that I have ever seen, which meant that many of us in "steerage" were able to stretch out in the middle rows and sleep. The crew was not at all overworked and actually passed out some extra drinks, thus I have a tiny bottle of gin that I decided to save for tonight, with a generous amount of tonic. That will hopefully help me to sleep through the night. We had the video-on-demand (VOD) feature and I watched "Julie and Julia," awed at how uncannily Meryl Streep, a truly outstanding actress, managed to evoke the essence of Julia Child. I enjoyed the movie, in part because I had read Julia's memoir My Life in France. I've not actually read the book that Julie Powell wrote but what a challenge she took on!
After that, I tried to sleep, unsuccessfully as things turned out. In all, I managed to doze off for about 45 minutes before we landed in London. The connections there went smoothly although the flight to Geneva was as full as it could be. I ended up arriving at the apartment here at around 4:30 pm this afternoon, or at 16:30, as is the preferred way to tell time here. The immigration officer asked whether I was a resident and wanted to see my permit for verification, which happened to me for the very first time here last summer, but now seems to be the standard. In anticipation of such situations, I make sure always to have my Swiss permit as well as my US passport with me generally, and especially when I travel outside either of those countries.
I've unpacked the suitcases and organized everything, thawed leftovers from a Moroccan-type stew that I had cooked but had not completely been able to finish before my departure in December and had that for dinner, and am now watching the European figure-skating championships on TV. There are some very nice routines! I decided to post this and then head for a nice soak in the bathtub before resting my very weary head.
The transatlantic flight had the smallest number of passengers that I have ever seen, which meant that many of us in "steerage" were able to stretch out in the middle rows and sleep. The crew was not at all overworked and actually passed out some extra drinks, thus I have a tiny bottle of gin that I decided to save for tonight, with a generous amount of tonic. That will hopefully help me to sleep through the night. We had the video-on-demand (VOD) feature and I watched "Julie and Julia," awed at how uncannily Meryl Streep, a truly outstanding actress, managed to evoke the essence of Julia Child. I enjoyed the movie, in part because I had read Julia's memoir My Life in France. I've not actually read the book that Julie Powell wrote but what a challenge she took on!
After that, I tried to sleep, unsuccessfully as things turned out. In all, I managed to doze off for about 45 minutes before we landed in London. The connections there went smoothly although the flight to Geneva was as full as it could be. I ended up arriving at the apartment here at around 4:30 pm this afternoon, or at 16:30, as is the preferred way to tell time here. The immigration officer asked whether I was a resident and wanted to see my permit for verification, which happened to me for the very first time here last summer, but now seems to be the standard. In anticipation of such situations, I make sure always to have my Swiss permit as well as my US passport with me generally, and especially when I travel outside either of those countries.
I've unpacked the suitcases and organized everything, thawed leftovers from a Moroccan-type stew that I had cooked but had not completely been able to finish before my departure in December and had that for dinner, and am now watching the European figure-skating championships on TV. There are some very nice routines! I decided to post this and then head for a nice soak in the bathtub before resting my very weary head.
20 January 2010
Word Power
Last night, I spoke to my granddaughter, "Princess Butterfly," after the made-up song that I used to sing to her when she was much younger to the tune of "Love Is Like a Butterfly," with all due apologies to Dolly Parton. We also call her "Curly Sue" for obvious reasons.
We spoke on Skype using its video feature. How on earth did absent grandmothers ever live without it?
Momma M reported that Princess Butterfly, just three this month (and in many ways going on 30), had astonished her after a recent trip to Victoria's Secret with the word "hypothesis," actually using it in a sentence to show that she understood the meaning. Thus, "Momma, I have a hypothesis. My hypothesis is that you went to the Mall to buy bras." This is the same desert-born girl, who at two, while her mother negotiated the roads in the Rocky Mountains on the way from Helena to Great Falls, MT last Easter vacation, marveled as she exclaimed, "Look at all the pyramids."
Momma M also reported that Princess Butterfly had recently gotten into trouble for knowingly saying a "bad" word (un gros mot), the well-known four-letter expletive beginning with "sh," and had received a very tiny dollop of tabasco sauce on her tongue as a result. Princess Butterfly then asserted that "Everyone" used "bad" words, including Papa (Big S, #2 Son, and unfortunately, true), but even Big Sis, also a princess, but on ice (in the desert!) and Big Bro. When Momma M expressed disbelief at the thought of Big Sis and Big Bro using such language, Princess Butterfly asserted that Big Bro had indeed said "sh _ _." When the dreaded tabasco sauce retribution was threatened, she said, "But Momma, I wasn't using it, I was just explaining it." No tabasco.
She's already figured out that it's all in the spin.
Momma M reported that Princess Butterfly, just three this month (and in many ways going on 30), had astonished her after a recent trip to Victoria's Secret with the word "hypothesis," actually using it in a sentence to show that she understood the meaning. Thus, "Momma, I have a hypothesis. My hypothesis is that you went to the Mall to buy bras." This is the same desert-born girl, who at two, while her mother negotiated the roads in the Rocky Mountains on the way from Helena to Great Falls, MT last Easter vacation, marveled as she exclaimed, "Look at all the pyramids."
Momma M also reported that Princess Butterfly had recently gotten into trouble for knowingly saying a "bad" word (un gros mot), the well-known four-letter expletive beginning with "sh," and had received a very tiny dollop of tabasco sauce on her tongue as a result. Princess Butterfly then asserted that "Everyone" used "bad" words, including Papa (Big S, #2 Son, and unfortunately, true), but even Big Sis, also a princess, but on ice (in the desert!) and Big Bro. When Momma M expressed disbelief at the thought of Big Sis and Big Bro using such language, Princess Butterfly asserted that Big Bro had indeed said "sh _ _." When the dreaded tabasco sauce retribution was threatened, she said, "But Momma, I wasn't using it, I was just explaining it." No tabasco.
She's already figured out that it's all in the spin.
Nuisances and disasters
Last Friday afternoon, the refrigerator died. There was no special noise or warning, not even the ghost of a whimper, just a spreading puddle that was at first confused with one coming from the dishes that had recently been on the draining board. I wiped the puddle up with some paper towels, packed up the chicken sauce and steamed couscous destined to be reheated Saturday evening for an early-bird birthday celebration for Big T (#1 Son) and headed to DC for the weekend. Big T will be 44 in just a few days, but I will be on the other side of The Pond.
All weekend I made merry, blissfully unaware that HWMBO would realize the full consequences of our appliance's demise while I was spending time with family, including the youngest grandbaby, over the weekend. My unfortunate spouse was kind enough not to give me the news until I returned late Sunday afternoon. Ironically, the weather, which would have been cold enough to preserve frozen goods only a few days earlier, has taken a moderate turn and so what couldn't be eaten immediately was generally spoiled. Last weekend, a three-day weekend including the MLK Jr holiday, was also a difficult time to find a repairman who would come. One finally did around six pm Monday. He decided that our currently defunct refrigerator could be resuscitated with a new compressor (all told, an expense of around USD 450), but it needed to be ordered and thus could not be installed before next Monday.
So now we are making do with ice chests and minimal quantities of fresh foods. Our "roughing it" is merely a slowing-down of life and expectations, hardly a disaster and certainly not catastrophic, especially since we currently have no small children or worse, teenagers, around. But even such a minimal nuisance makes one empathize even more with those hundreds of thousands in Haiti who have been deprived of everything, for whom life since last Tuesday will never be the same, for whom our situation would seem unimaginable luxury, and for whom there may never be healing.
Haiti has the horribly dubious distinction of being the poorest country in the Western Hemisphere. In no small part, this situation is due to meddling by various so-called superpowers who funded opposing groups there practically since Haiti proclaimed its independence from France on 1 January 1804, during the reign of Napoleon I (not Napoleon III, as infamously proclaimed recently by one rather ignorant, if not outright bonkers, US citizen). This occurred after a successful slave revolt led by a former slave, Toussaint l'Ouverture. One would think that the United States, itself the product of revolution against a European occupier, would have been a consistent champion of its near neighbor's independence. But that has not exactly been the case. After episodes of intervening in Haitian affairs during the 19th century, the US occupied Haiti in 1915, ultimately leaving in 1937 after establishing a border between Haiti and the Dominican Republic and leaving in place a financial system that siphoned Haiti's wealth to offshore creditors instead of reinvesting it in the Haitian economy. From 1957 to 1986, the US either stood by or actively traded with and supported the notoriously nefarious Duvalier family whose regimes created the private army and terrorist death squads known as the Tonton Macoutes. Finally, in 1990, Jean-Bertrand Aristide was elected President, then overthrown in a coup in September 1991, and the country was ruled by a military dictatorship. That situation eventually descended into chaos. Aristide was reinstated in 1994 after a team led by former President Carter negotiated a departure of the coup leaders at the request of then-President Clinton. Aristide completed his mandate in 1996, but was returned to power in 2000, only to be deposed again in 2004, and this time carried off to Africa in questionable circumstances by US Marines. Such interminable turbulence was apparently not enough. On 12 January 2010, the capital of this poor beleaguered nation was practically the epicenter of a 7.0 earthquake.
No human being with a conscience can fail to be touched by such palpable misery practically on our shores, on the island that may have been the first landing place for the Italian discoverer of the New World. That unacceptable misery has endured for far too long. It is my sincere dream that this terrible tragedy will remind us all of our common humanity and that some true and lasting good will result that will actually benefit our Haitian neighbors, instead of leaving them to languish and suffer as they have until now.
There are many excellent organizations that have been helping with relief efforts and that will continue to help. Some are listed in the sidebar of sites that I like to visit. I have heard some, albeit only a few, thank heavens, of my fellow citizens who believe that US foreign aid (apart from the current disaster assistance for which I must commend President Obama and all those who are assisting him in this commitment) to Haiti is, in and of itself, enough. While I hate to burst their bubble, I suggest that they educate themselves on what the US actually "gives" as foreign aid, a large part of which goes toward military budgets rather than community and infrastructure development, to countries around the world. Anyone who does not trust blogger or news outlet statistics can see for themselves here.
All weekend I made merry, blissfully unaware that HWMBO would realize the full consequences of our appliance's demise while I was spending time with family, including the youngest grandbaby, over the weekend. My unfortunate spouse was kind enough not to give me the news until I returned late Sunday afternoon. Ironically, the weather, which would have been cold enough to preserve frozen goods only a few days earlier, has taken a moderate turn and so what couldn't be eaten immediately was generally spoiled. Last weekend, a three-day weekend including the MLK Jr holiday, was also a difficult time to find a repairman who would come. One finally did around six pm Monday. He decided that our currently defunct refrigerator could be resuscitated with a new compressor (all told, an expense of around USD 450), but it needed to be ordered and thus could not be installed before next Monday.
So now we are making do with ice chests and minimal quantities of fresh foods. Our "roughing it" is merely a slowing-down of life and expectations, hardly a disaster and certainly not catastrophic, especially since we currently have no small children or worse, teenagers, around. But even such a minimal nuisance makes one empathize even more with those hundreds of thousands in Haiti who have been deprived of everything, for whom life since last Tuesday will never be the same, for whom our situation would seem unimaginable luxury, and for whom there may never be healing.
Haiti has the horribly dubious distinction of being the poorest country in the Western Hemisphere. In no small part, this situation is due to meddling by various so-called superpowers who funded opposing groups there practically since Haiti proclaimed its independence from France on 1 January 1804, during the reign of Napoleon I (not Napoleon III, as infamously proclaimed recently by one rather ignorant, if not outright bonkers, US citizen). This occurred after a successful slave revolt led by a former slave, Toussaint l'Ouverture. One would think that the United States, itself the product of revolution against a European occupier, would have been a consistent champion of its near neighbor's independence. But that has not exactly been the case. After episodes of intervening in Haitian affairs during the 19th century, the US occupied Haiti in 1915, ultimately leaving in 1937 after establishing a border between Haiti and the Dominican Republic and leaving in place a financial system that siphoned Haiti's wealth to offshore creditors instead of reinvesting it in the Haitian economy. From 1957 to 1986, the US either stood by or actively traded with and supported the notoriously nefarious Duvalier family whose regimes created the private army and terrorist death squads known as the Tonton Macoutes. Finally, in 1990, Jean-Bertrand Aristide was elected President, then overthrown in a coup in September 1991, and the country was ruled by a military dictatorship. That situation eventually descended into chaos. Aristide was reinstated in 1994 after a team led by former President Carter negotiated a departure of the coup leaders at the request of then-President Clinton. Aristide completed his mandate in 1996, but was returned to power in 2000, only to be deposed again in 2004, and this time carried off to Africa in questionable circumstances by US Marines. Such interminable turbulence was apparently not enough. On 12 January 2010, the capital of this poor beleaguered nation was practically the epicenter of a 7.0 earthquake.
No human being with a conscience can fail to be touched by such palpable misery practically on our shores, on the island that may have been the first landing place for the Italian discoverer of the New World. That unacceptable misery has endured for far too long. It is my sincere dream that this terrible tragedy will remind us all of our common humanity and that some true and lasting good will result that will actually benefit our Haitian neighbors, instead of leaving them to languish and suffer as they have until now.
There are many excellent organizations that have been helping with relief efforts and that will continue to help. Some are listed in the sidebar of sites that I like to visit. I have heard some, albeit only a few, thank heavens, of my fellow citizens who believe that US foreign aid (apart from the current disaster assistance for which I must commend President Obama and all those who are assisting him in this commitment) to Haiti is, in and of itself, enough. While I hate to burst their bubble, I suggest that they educate themselves on what the US actually "gives" as foreign aid, a large part of which goes toward military budgets rather than community and infrastructure development, to countries around the world. Anyone who does not trust blogger or news outlet statistics can see for themselves here.
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