I have no idea what the association was that lead to this memory. I was sitting at the computer on Facebook listening to some incredible diatonic accordion playing by a Quebecois musician.
The memory was of being in an apartment we lived in briefly on Broadway. I believe Broadway was the border between Newark and Belleville. Hospital aside, I was born in Belleville and lived with my mother and grandfather over my grandfather's grocery store until my father came back from Europe in 1946. Part of that time my aunt Marion was also there with my older cousin Steve.
I'm also thinking that we probably had to move because my grandfather's little grocery store went out of business due to pressure from the new phenomenon of supermarkets. We lived in an upstairs apartment on Broadway. Out the side window we could see that the apartment house was perched over a stream or small river. So the memory is just a fragment.....,my grandfather pointing me out the river and telling me that rats lived down there. I doubt I knew much about rats, but I could sense the gravity in the statement, and it wasn't pleasant. In fact it was kind of dark and scary as memories go. Why did this little fragment stay so long so close to consciousness, so easily recalled? Other moments are lodged in there among the neurons and synapses. But the rat fragment remains prominent. Hmmmmm.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Political Prospects
The Economist points out that Republicans may have scored an "own goal" in their opposition to Health Care Reform. They gambled on defeating it. They didn't. Who is now going to want to repeal prohibiting insurance companies from rescinding policies on existing conditions, filling the prescription doughnut, etc?
On the other hand they correctly predict that as Obama recognized following the Masschusetts Senatorial defeat, the dems will suffer mightily if unemployment is still high come the November elections.
On the other hand they correctly predict that as Obama recognized following the Masschusetts Senatorial defeat, the dems will suffer mightily if unemployment is still high come the November elections.
Passover at Aunt Sarah's
Growing up, first Passover was at Aunt Sarah's in Brooklyn. Second was just the three Becker's at home. Aunt Sarah was actually my great aunt...sister of my grandfather Savel from Slobodka, Lithuania. She was married to Harry Abbott. Her apartment was above her dry goods store. It sold mysterious things for women like girdles.
The Becker crowd was pretty large. There were probably 10-12 Becker cousins of my father's generation with their families. The feeling was heavily European. Accents were thick. Clothes were dark. I remember my father's cousin by marriage Ruby. I was fascinated by his gold teeth.
I remember the year I became old enough to read the four questions. I think it was solo that year. I practiced and practiced (the modern melody.) I sure was nervous. The crowd of relatives was pretty loud. I was very aware of how small my voice was. Of course I was greeted after the ordeal with a great outpouring of love and praise.
The way this seder went was that everybody started at the same time, and occasionally came back together for important moments in the Haggadah like cups of wine, breaking matzoh, etc. In between, it was each person chanting loudly in their own key, at their own pace. It was polophony. It was bedlam. It worked. I remember sometimes retreating from the verbal storm with some of my cousins to hide under the table.
Of course we plotted and ultimately stole, hid, and ransomed the afikomen. Uncle Harry gave each of us a silver dollar. This became a family tradition carried on by my father and I. While my father died in 1992, I'm still handing out silver dollars he had hoarded at the house in Springfield.
When the kids got bored, we went downstairs to the store. Best to break the boredom was the button maker machine. You put a blank button in this big press type thing, layered cloth over the top of it, and pressed the foot pedal. Magic, you had a cloth covered button. I remember thinking my older cousins were so sophisticated. It was as if one or two years in age had brought them all kinds of secret knowledge.
The menu never varied. Aunt Sarah's matzoh ball soup was classic. Big yellow fatty globs floating on the top. Huge matzoh balls that could easily have been used for cannon balls. I was always full after the soup.
The second night seder was at my parents with me, mom, dad, and grandfather Manny. It was pretty American. Can you believe the food I remember here was green peas. I did always marvel that my father, who seemed so assimilated (though of course totally Brooklyn) was so effortless with his Hebrew. And also that the melodies my grandfather used were different and seemed very old time eastern Europe. He really had down that yiddish singing quaver that I can't describe in words. The krecht in Klezmer derives therefrom.
Have you heard me describe Jews leaving Egypt? the meaning of the four sons? Nope. I guess you judge what stuck from those Seders.
The Becker crowd was pretty large. There were probably 10-12 Becker cousins of my father's generation with their families. The feeling was heavily European. Accents were thick. Clothes were dark. I remember my father's cousin by marriage Ruby. I was fascinated by his gold teeth.
I remember the year I became old enough to read the four questions. I think it was solo that year. I practiced and practiced (the modern melody.) I sure was nervous. The crowd of relatives was pretty loud. I was very aware of how small my voice was. Of course I was greeted after the ordeal with a great outpouring of love and praise.
The way this seder went was that everybody started at the same time, and occasionally came back together for important moments in the Haggadah like cups of wine, breaking matzoh, etc. In between, it was each person chanting loudly in their own key, at their own pace. It was polophony. It was bedlam. It worked. I remember sometimes retreating from the verbal storm with some of my cousins to hide under the table.
Of course we plotted and ultimately stole, hid, and ransomed the afikomen. Uncle Harry gave each of us a silver dollar. This became a family tradition carried on by my father and I. While my father died in 1992, I'm still handing out silver dollars he had hoarded at the house in Springfield.
When the kids got bored, we went downstairs to the store. Best to break the boredom was the button maker machine. You put a blank button in this big press type thing, layered cloth over the top of it, and pressed the foot pedal. Magic, you had a cloth covered button. I remember thinking my older cousins were so sophisticated. It was as if one or two years in age had brought them all kinds of secret knowledge.
The menu never varied. Aunt Sarah's matzoh ball soup was classic. Big yellow fatty globs floating on the top. Huge matzoh balls that could easily have been used for cannon balls. I was always full after the soup.
The second night seder was at my parents with me, mom, dad, and grandfather Manny. It was pretty American. Can you believe the food I remember here was green peas. I did always marvel that my father, who seemed so assimilated (though of course totally Brooklyn) was so effortless with his Hebrew. And also that the melodies my grandfather used were different and seemed very old time eastern Europe. He really had down that yiddish singing quaver that I can't describe in words. The krecht in Klezmer derives therefrom.
Have you heard me describe Jews leaving Egypt? the meaning of the four sons? Nope. I guess you judge what stuck from those Seders.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Ornette
In 1969, I was working and living with the WIMP collective. Briefly put, WIMP was a printing collective that "inherited" the SDS printing shop/office in the basement of a building onSpring Street in SOHO district of Manhattan. Tangential to the main story, it happened that Ornette Coleman (avant garde saxophone player) lived in one of the upstairs lofts. It was pretty wild....we'd be printing day and night to the mad clatter of the printing presses, and could here him working out on his horn upstairs. This was during a period when he was not playing out, and just working on his music. We got to know him and I visited several times in his loft and played pool with him. The story kind of goes down hill. At one point he was behind on his rent and we as members of the coop ownership supported keeping him on till he could pay. At a later date there were a few bomb threats against us in the building because of our activities. We didn't think they were very serious. He voted to throw us out. We did stay till we decided to close down on our own a year or so later.
Urban Underground vrs. Big Developers
First job out of social work school (after being 1-Y for the draft) was as community liaison from NYC Dept of City Planning to the Washington Heights neighborhood of Manhattan (along the west side.) That job was going pretty ok, and I had hooked up with a group of radical urban planners called the Urban Underground. These were part of a larger group of graduated lefties who were trying to take the SDS (students for democratic society) model off campus, organized around professions/careeers. So there were city planner, welfare worker, teachers, etc group in this umbrella organization, Movement for a Democratic Society (MDS.)
John Lindsay was the liberal (Republican) mayor of NYC and Manhattan was under economic and political pressure to "upzone" its zoning regulations. Up zoning meant allowing taller buildings on site. That in turn made it economically viable and desirable to tear down existing structures to build new bigger ones. Essentially low income housing would be torn down and replaced with luxury housing, forcing middle class and poor people out of Manhattan.
Initially Lindsay and his City Planning Commission opposed the push by developers to upzone (from Residential 8, to Residential 10.) They needed some data. So somehow, though I was hired for my community organizing and not my technical planning skills, I was assigned to do a "windshield survey" to see if this change was needed. The Administration and City Planning were arguing to the developers that there still remained many R-8 sites that were developable and so the R-10 was not needed. I conducted this survey and found, in fact, that there were many good developable R-8 sites in Manhattan.
Ultimately, pressure from developers caused the City Planning Commission to reverse course and publish its intention to upzone. They claimed that they had conducted studies that there was little R-8 developable land left in Manhattan and that the upzoning was needed. The Urban Underground mobilized. We authored a nifty brochure based on the RCA Victor ad with the dog listening to "his master's voice" on an old victrola, replacing the masters with developers, and the obedient dog with the City Planning Commission. I recall our words in the brochure were pretty close to, "City Planning provides fig leaf for big developers." That's a nice turn of phrase I've used many times since...including describing the role of worker training in job safety.
We also made successful contacts with local community housing advocacy groups throughout the city. So on the day of the hearing, I and four other members of the Urban Underground testified at the radio broadcasted public hearings. I took a day off work, as did several of the others who were City Planning Employees. Some of the five worked for planning consultants. Jacque Leavitt who teaches planning at UCLA was our leader and most grounded technical expert. I (the newcomer in the group) had by chance been thrust in the role of the whistleblower. I testified, that I was the one who had conducted the research, and that, in fact, my agency was lying about the results. There was plenty of R-8 land left that cold be developed for housing. WOW!. Big brouhaha.
I and Urban Underground were on the front page the the NYTimes for our points and whistleblowing. The City Planning Commission (lead by its one very liberal member) deep sixed the proposal to upzone.
So what happened to us rebels. Those who worked for the agency received a written notice summoning us to a meeting with management. We were advised we could bring legal counsel if we wished. We figured we were going to be fired so were ready with a plan for the next escalation. Recall that student sit ins against the War in Vietnam were taking place throughout the nation. We worked out in advance that if fired we would sit in at the City Planning Offices, joined by some community groups. We even bought chain to lock up and close the building (or chain ourselves together?) At any rate they ended up whining how they agreed with us all along, appreciated our sincerity, but had to make this concession for the greater good of getting Lindsay reelected.
I went back to work. But I had no assignment, no work to do. I was also prohibited from using the telephone at work and from going into and City Planning files. I hung out for about 4 months till it got too boring. Then I quit and went to work full time for MDS supporting their city wide structure and opening a leftie political coffee house on the upper west side. More of that later.
John Lindsay was the liberal (Republican) mayor of NYC and Manhattan was under economic and political pressure to "upzone" its zoning regulations. Up zoning meant allowing taller buildings on site. That in turn made it economically viable and desirable to tear down existing structures to build new bigger ones. Essentially low income housing would be torn down and replaced with luxury housing, forcing middle class and poor people out of Manhattan.
Initially Lindsay and his City Planning Commission opposed the push by developers to upzone (from Residential 8, to Residential 10.) They needed some data. So somehow, though I was hired for my community organizing and not my technical planning skills, I was assigned to do a "windshield survey" to see if this change was needed. The Administration and City Planning were arguing to the developers that there still remained many R-8 sites that were developable and so the R-10 was not needed. I conducted this survey and found, in fact, that there were many good developable R-8 sites in Manhattan.
Ultimately, pressure from developers caused the City Planning Commission to reverse course and publish its intention to upzone. They claimed that they had conducted studies that there was little R-8 developable land left in Manhattan and that the upzoning was needed. The Urban Underground mobilized. We authored a nifty brochure based on the RCA Victor ad with the dog listening to "his master's voice" on an old victrola, replacing the masters with developers, and the obedient dog with the City Planning Commission. I recall our words in the brochure were pretty close to, "City Planning provides fig leaf for big developers." That's a nice turn of phrase I've used many times since...including describing the role of worker training in job safety.
We also made successful contacts with local community housing advocacy groups throughout the city. So on the day of the hearing, I and four other members of the Urban Underground testified at the radio broadcasted public hearings. I took a day off work, as did several of the others who were City Planning Employees. Some of the five worked for planning consultants. Jacque Leavitt who teaches planning at UCLA was our leader and most grounded technical expert. I (the newcomer in the group) had by chance been thrust in the role of the whistleblower. I testified, that I was the one who had conducted the research, and that, in fact, my agency was lying about the results. There was plenty of R-8 land left that cold be developed for housing. WOW!. Big brouhaha.
I and Urban Underground were on the front page the the NYTimes for our points and whistleblowing. The City Planning Commission (lead by its one very liberal member) deep sixed the proposal to upzone.
So what happened to us rebels. Those who worked for the agency received a written notice summoning us to a meeting with management. We were advised we could bring legal counsel if we wished. We figured we were going to be fired so were ready with a plan for the next escalation. Recall that student sit ins against the War in Vietnam were taking place throughout the nation. We worked out in advance that if fired we would sit in at the City Planning Offices, joined by some community groups. We even bought chain to lock up and close the building (or chain ourselves together?) At any rate they ended up whining how they agreed with us all along, appreciated our sincerity, but had to make this concession for the greater good of getting Lindsay reelected.
I went back to work. But I had no assignment, no work to do. I was also prohibited from using the telephone at work and from going into and City Planning files. I hung out for about 4 months till it got too boring. Then I quit and went to work full time for MDS supporting their city wide structure and opening a leftie political coffee house on the upper west side. More of that later.
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Showcase Prep Going OK
My musical showcase at the MAC is on in 8 days. I've been practicing about 2 months. Thought I'm playing 3 classical compositions, some blues piano and klezmer accordion, I've spent three quarters of that time working on 2 difficult movements of Bach. About a week and a half ago, I was feeling really stuck, and not sure I would get where I wanted to be by April 4. This week things started moving. I'm going to make mistakes and some things are not as even as I'd like, but I'm at a point that if I played tomorrow, I think I'd be satisfied with the ability to make and communicate music.
WHEW! That feels good and is a relief.
WHEW! That feels good and is a relief.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
I Read the News Today, Oh Boy
Obama - just when you want to love him, you're disappointed. Just when you want to give up, he's great!
This week's news if full of good political news. How often does that happen!
1. Health Care passes.
2. US looks like it might get tough on Israel building in Arab areas.
3. Google faces down China;
4. US and Russia moving towards nuclear arms reduction.
Whew! That's big!
This week's news if full of good political news. How often does that happen!
1. Health Care passes.
2. US looks like it might get tough on Israel building in Arab areas.
3. Google faces down China;
4. US and Russia moving towards nuclear arms reduction.
Whew! That's big!
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Hitchhiking1
I hitch hiked across the country twice in the late 60's. I probably was more successful than most (males) looking small and unthreatening. There were also smaller trips, like Philadelphia to Boston to see a girl friend, and Chicago for the 1968 Democratic Convention.
First time was really the second half of a trip that started at friends' wedding in Gallipolis, Ohio. Three of us got a drive away to get to the West Coast. A drive away was a car someone wanted delivered somewhere else without having to drive it themselves. We got the car, they got the car delivered. We paid the gas. They risked we'd trash it....must have been hearty insurance! This one was the old Jeep Wagoneer.....so we got to try out 4-wheel drive in Colorado. Here are some vignettes from both trips:
On the West slope of the Rockies we climbed a big gravelly hillside. It was pretty loose stuff and pretty vertical and pretty scary. When I slid down, I wore a hole in the seat of my Jeans.
We parted company in Bakersfield, CA where I headed West to San Diego, while my friends headed up to Berkeley. Bakersfield was hot and brown. When I got to San Diego, it was actually La Jolla, where my dear mother-in-law Evelyn now has a condo on the beach. I was shocked by all the green and gardening. I knew water was not supposed to be there. I saw and imagined the army of Mexican laborers it took to maintain this place. It looked as if each leaf was hand placed with care to maximize its visual splendor.
I wanted to visit my college friend and Monks bandmate George Stavis who was studying philosophy at San Diege (Marcuse.) Well I hadn't bothered to give any advance notice, so he wasn't around. Where to stay? Well I walked way....I mean way....I mean way way north along the beach from La Jolla and set my stuff down and built a little camp up against the cliffs. There was a certain amount of paranoia that a cop or rich land owner would find me and bust me. I could only get to town at low tide because at high tide the water came in and cut off my path. I remember wondering how far I was north of La Jolla, so counted off my footsteps walking to my hideout and multiplied by what I estimated to be my stride. This was the first time I saw those long loopy sea plants with the bulb things hooked on.
Next day I met someone on the beach. He invited me to stay at his house. A bed was nice. He even trusted me to wake up after he went off to work and let myself out of the house and lock up. How often would that happen today?
Next step, on to LA and the Bay Area. I went to check out LA, and stayed with friend Mitchell and visited friend Bob. Both were left activists who had migrated to LA post NYC's political crazy implosion. I was feeling pretty positive about LA.
Next stop was Berkeley, where I visited with the friends I had shared the ride with. I remember standing by the road at San Luis Obispo. I've never seen a place with so many hitch hikers. We had to kind of stand in line to take our turn on the road with our thumbs out. Most folks were respectful, but a few did try to cheat into line.
I don't remember much about Berkeley, except that the feeling was pretty political "heavy" as in NYC.
Next to Portland, where I stayed with NYC expatriots Liz and Richard. I remember being taken to a hot spring in the woods near Portland. The hot spring ran through "pipes" made of hollowed out logs into a hollowed out log bath tub. Each tub was in a little sheltered kind of closet which was closed and private to the public side from which people entered through a door, but open to the woods on the back side. The water was so hot, we had to run down to a cold spring with a bucket to to get cold water to cool off the hot water we had let in to our "tub." I remember when I got out, I felt like soft rubber, and didn't feel the cold for about ten minutes.
How did I eat on the trip? My budget for the entire trip was $250. I carried a bag of rice and some onions and a bottle of hot sauce. That was my supper every night. I usually managed to get to a camp site and cooked over a fire. I had a little hatchet. Boy it was a struggle to cut wood with a hatchet! Sometimes I was desperate and picked uneaten food off peoples' plates in restaurants. I wasn't worried health wise. I was a big believer in immune being more important than infection. I was worried about being seen and embarrassed.
There are a lot of lost souls out there on the road. I remember one I met in a far west state, driving an old jalopy. About a half hour after picking me up, he confessed he needed money for gas. I pitched in.
I ended up in Yellowstone as snow closed in. I was a bit paranoid of bears and scared of freezing. So I found a closed up cabin, where I jimmied up the window and slept "indoors" that night. For some reason I was also incredbly paranoid of getting busted and sent to jail for breaking into the cabin. Next morning I stood in the sleet and was picked up by two guys who taught mining engineering. They took me to Jackson's Hole.
Here I had my most difficult hitchhike. I stood on the hot dusty road going east out of Jackson's Hole. It was hours and nobody picked me up. I did get "adopted" by some teenagers who thought it was really fun to ride past me and throw rocks at me out of the car.....repeatedly.
And then came the cop. He said "no hitch hiking." I asked, "Where's the bus?" He said a forty mile walk east. Wow! He said, Get walking. Stay on the left side of the road. If I catch you hitch hiking I'll throw you in jail. Well after a half hour of walking, an Oldsmobile convertible passed me and pulled off the road. "Do you need a ride?" "You bet." In the car were three more lost souls. The driver was a young guy who worked on oil rigs. His girl friend had left him and gone back to live with her parents in Rapid City. He was on a quest to get her back. (Seemed like he would probably also lose his job on this quest. for being off work.) Along in the passenger seat was his sister. She was there for moral support. That seemed pretty sweet. In the back seat with me was a young native american boy. He lived in Canada, but one night got stoned on pot, drove across the US border, picked up two guys, who ended up stealing his car. Then without papers, etc, he ended up in an American jail for 6 months. He had just gotten out. His parents had no idea where he was. I gave him a dime to call his girl friend. He was totally home sick.
Did I mention that there were quantities of beer being consumed, empty beer cans flying backwards out the open car. Turned out the young man was expecting a fight with the father of the girl friend when he got to Rapid City. It was clear to me that the price of admission to this ride was to back him up in this fight. What could I do? Well we finally got to Rapid City. Drove around the suburbs looking for the girl friend house. (I was really not spoiling for a fight.) Well whether it was memory, or the alcohol talking, but we never found the house. I finally got out of the car after dark on the main east west highway through Rapid City. This was my first night finding a park to sleep in. I lay my sleeping bag down next to this interstate. When I woke up I was covered with snow. That was it. I threw in the towel on that trip. Called the airport for a flight home. I had $200 for the plane, $10.00 for the taxi to the airport and arrived in JFK airport dead broke. I couldn't even get a subway. Irene, my girl friend, had to come and get me. Still it was a great trip.
To my kids: DON'T DO THIS. That was a different time and place, especially regarding hitch hiking!!!!
First time was really the second half of a trip that started at friends' wedding in Gallipolis, Ohio. Three of us got a drive away to get to the West Coast. A drive away was a car someone wanted delivered somewhere else without having to drive it themselves. We got the car, they got the car delivered. We paid the gas. They risked we'd trash it....must have been hearty insurance! This one was the old Jeep Wagoneer.....so we got to try out 4-wheel drive in Colorado. Here are some vignettes from both trips:
On the West slope of the Rockies we climbed a big gravelly hillside. It was pretty loose stuff and pretty vertical and pretty scary. When I slid down, I wore a hole in the seat of my Jeans.
We parted company in Bakersfield, CA where I headed West to San Diego, while my friends headed up to Berkeley. Bakersfield was hot and brown. When I got to San Diego, it was actually La Jolla, where my dear mother-in-law Evelyn now has a condo on the beach. I was shocked by all the green and gardening. I knew water was not supposed to be there. I saw and imagined the army of Mexican laborers it took to maintain this place. It looked as if each leaf was hand placed with care to maximize its visual splendor.
I wanted to visit my college friend and Monks bandmate George Stavis who was studying philosophy at San Diege (Marcuse.) Well I hadn't bothered to give any advance notice, so he wasn't around. Where to stay? Well I walked way....I mean way....I mean way way north along the beach from La Jolla and set my stuff down and built a little camp up against the cliffs. There was a certain amount of paranoia that a cop or rich land owner would find me and bust me. I could only get to town at low tide because at high tide the water came in and cut off my path. I remember wondering how far I was north of La Jolla, so counted off my footsteps walking to my hideout and multiplied by what I estimated to be my stride. This was the first time I saw those long loopy sea plants with the bulb things hooked on.
Next day I met someone on the beach. He invited me to stay at his house. A bed was nice. He even trusted me to wake up after he went off to work and let myself out of the house and lock up. How often would that happen today?
Next step, on to LA and the Bay Area. I went to check out LA, and stayed with friend Mitchell and visited friend Bob. Both were left activists who had migrated to LA post NYC's political crazy implosion. I was feeling pretty positive about LA.
Next stop was Berkeley, where I visited with the friends I had shared the ride with. I remember standing by the road at San Luis Obispo. I've never seen a place with so many hitch hikers. We had to kind of stand in line to take our turn on the road with our thumbs out. Most folks were respectful, but a few did try to cheat into line.
I don't remember much about Berkeley, except that the feeling was pretty political "heavy" as in NYC.
Next to Portland, where I stayed with NYC expatriots Liz and Richard. I remember being taken to a hot spring in the woods near Portland. The hot spring ran through "pipes" made of hollowed out logs into a hollowed out log bath tub. Each tub was in a little sheltered kind of closet which was closed and private to the public side from which people entered through a door, but open to the woods on the back side. The water was so hot, we had to run down to a cold spring with a bucket to to get cold water to cool off the hot water we had let in to our "tub." I remember when I got out, I felt like soft rubber, and didn't feel the cold for about ten minutes.
How did I eat on the trip? My budget for the entire trip was $250. I carried a bag of rice and some onions and a bottle of hot sauce. That was my supper every night. I usually managed to get to a camp site and cooked over a fire. I had a little hatchet. Boy it was a struggle to cut wood with a hatchet! Sometimes I was desperate and picked uneaten food off peoples' plates in restaurants. I wasn't worried health wise. I was a big believer in immune being more important than infection. I was worried about being seen and embarrassed.
There are a lot of lost souls out there on the road. I remember one I met in a far west state, driving an old jalopy. About a half hour after picking me up, he confessed he needed money for gas. I pitched in.
I ended up in Yellowstone as snow closed in. I was a bit paranoid of bears and scared of freezing. So I found a closed up cabin, where I jimmied up the window and slept "indoors" that night. For some reason I was also incredbly paranoid of getting busted and sent to jail for breaking into the cabin. Next morning I stood in the sleet and was picked up by two guys who taught mining engineering. They took me to Jackson's Hole.
Here I had my most difficult hitchhike. I stood on the hot dusty road going east out of Jackson's Hole. It was hours and nobody picked me up. I did get "adopted" by some teenagers who thought it was really fun to ride past me and throw rocks at me out of the car.....repeatedly.
And then came the cop. He said "no hitch hiking." I asked, "Where's the bus?" He said a forty mile walk east. Wow! He said, Get walking. Stay on the left side of the road. If I catch you hitch hiking I'll throw you in jail. Well after a half hour of walking, an Oldsmobile convertible passed me and pulled off the road. "Do you need a ride?" "You bet." In the car were three more lost souls. The driver was a young guy who worked on oil rigs. His girl friend had left him and gone back to live with her parents in Rapid City. He was on a quest to get her back. (Seemed like he would probably also lose his job on this quest. for being off work.) Along in the passenger seat was his sister. She was there for moral support. That seemed pretty sweet. In the back seat with me was a young native american boy. He lived in Canada, but one night got stoned on pot, drove across the US border, picked up two guys, who ended up stealing his car. Then without papers, etc, he ended up in an American jail for 6 months. He had just gotten out. His parents had no idea where he was. I gave him a dime to call his girl friend. He was totally home sick.
Did I mention that there were quantities of beer being consumed, empty beer cans flying backwards out the open car. Turned out the young man was expecting a fight with the father of the girl friend when he got to Rapid City. It was clear to me that the price of admission to this ride was to back him up in this fight. What could I do? Well we finally got to Rapid City. Drove around the suburbs looking for the girl friend house. (I was really not spoiling for a fight.) Well whether it was memory, or the alcohol talking, but we never found the house. I finally got out of the car after dark on the main east west highway through Rapid City. This was my first night finding a park to sleep in. I lay my sleeping bag down next to this interstate. When I woke up I was covered with snow. That was it. I threw in the towel on that trip. Called the airport for a flight home. I had $200 for the plane, $10.00 for the taxi to the airport and arrived in JFK airport dead broke. I couldn't even get a subway. Irene, my girl friend, had to come and get me. Still it was a great trip.
To my kids: DON'T DO THIS. That was a different time and place, especially regarding hitch hiking!!!!
Family Culture: US/Mexico
Having volunteered to play music for an upcoming Cinco de Mayo celebration in Morgantown, I was recently introduced by one of the organizers, to a Mexican musician somewhat new to Morgantown. He is working at a local store and also volunteered to play music. His son plays bass, he sings and plays a 12 string guitar. They needed an accordion. That's me.
So we've had two rehearsals. He speaks no English, I no Spanish. For the first two rehearsals he has not only showed up with his son the bass player, but wife, several children, spouses, and grandchildren. I can't imagine being asked to rehearse with someone and bringing along my family. But it's great. It's an instant party. I'm really enjoying it. Who knows what friendship and music this will bring?
So we've had two rehearsals. He speaks no English, I no Spanish. For the first two rehearsals he has not only showed up with his son the bass player, but wife, several children, spouses, and grandchildren. I can't imagine being asked to rehearse with someone and bringing along my family. But it's great. It's an instant party. I'm really enjoying it. Who knows what friendship and music this will bring?
Politics of Health Care Fight Prediction
I agree with David Frum, fellow at American Enterprise Institute (Conservative think tank) as reported in the New York Times:
"The political imperative crowded out the the policy imperative, and the Republicans have now lost both.....Politically, I get the 'let's trip up the other side, make them fail' strategy. But what's more important, to win extra seats or to shape the most important piece of social legislation since the 1960's? It was a go-for-the marbles approach. Unless they produced an absolute failure for Mr Obama, there wasn't going to be any political benefit....When our core group discover that this thing is not as catastrophic as advertised, they are going to be less energized than they are right now."
"The political imperative crowded out the the policy imperative, and the Republicans have now lost both.....Politically, I get the 'let's trip up the other side, make them fail' strategy. But what's more important, to win extra seats or to shape the most important piece of social legislation since the 1960's? It was a go-for-the marbles approach. Unless they produced an absolute failure for Mr Obama, there wasn't going to be any political benefit....When our core group discover that this thing is not as catastrophic as advertised, they are going to be less energized than they are right now."
Monday, March 22, 2010
Squished banana
My father, Abe, concocted a breakfast dish that I still love. He called it squished banana. You take a banan, preferably on the ripe size, lay it on a piece of bread or roll and squish it thoroughly into a paste with a fork. Then you place it in the oven on broil for about five minutes and eat.....yum. It works better with a hard roll or hearty bread. If the bread is kind of soft, pre toast it before broiling or it will get soggy.
This sounds pretty weird, but nearly everyone who tries it likes it. This morning I made it on a hearty roll Roz brought from Pittsburgh. It was so good, I just had to write about it.
This sounds pretty weird, but nearly everyone who tries it likes it. This morning I made it on a hearty roll Roz brought from Pittsburgh. It was so good, I just had to write about it.
What's the Urban Underground?
I went to work for the New York City Department of City Planning in 1968. It was my first job out of graduate school I made $8500 per year and that seemed like a princely sum.
I found at City Planning other radicals/lefties, etc. They had formed a radical planners' group called Urban Underground. Some of the planners worked for the City, others worked for various planning consultants. We became part of a larger organization of post Students for a Democratic Society (SDS) called Movement for a Democratic Society. This was a great political place for people to go after they graduated college. There were welfare workers' groups, teachers, lawyers, doctors, etc.
Our planning group was lead by some pretty sharp folks including Jacqueline Leavitt, who still teaches planning at UCLA. We had a pretty sophisticated critique of urban planning and the politics of the planning process in NYC. We favored banning cars from Manhattan. We understood liberals were not always the peoples' friends. We understood both the economic impact of planning on poor people, and the broader social implications of architecture and various kinds of plans. While I was active we were involved in a very successful whistle blowing episode which may have been the most significant victory I've been part of in a lifetime on the left. More for that later.
MDS got trashed and eaten up by the feeding frenzy that became the New York sectarian left. The Urban Underground may have outlasted some of its fellow units, but eventually faded away. We put out a newsprint newspaper on NYC issues. Of course it was called the Urban Underground. I remember a fantastic front page (staged) photo which showed a man dressed in a business suit, carrying an attache case, descending into a subway entrance wearing a gas mask.
I found at City Planning other radicals/lefties, etc. They had formed a radical planners' group called Urban Underground. Some of the planners worked for the City, others worked for various planning consultants. We became part of a larger organization of post Students for a Democratic Society (SDS) called Movement for a Democratic Society. This was a great political place for people to go after they graduated college. There were welfare workers' groups, teachers, lawyers, doctors, etc.
Our planning group was lead by some pretty sharp folks including Jacqueline Leavitt, who still teaches planning at UCLA. We had a pretty sophisticated critique of urban planning and the politics of the planning process in NYC. We favored banning cars from Manhattan. We understood liberals were not always the peoples' friends. We understood both the economic impact of planning on poor people, and the broader social implications of architecture and various kinds of plans. While I was active we were involved in a very successful whistle blowing episode which may have been the most significant victory I've been part of in a lifetime on the left. More for that later.
MDS got trashed and eaten up by the feeding frenzy that became the New York sectarian left. The Urban Underground may have outlasted some of its fellow units, but eventually faded away. We put out a newsprint newspaper on NYC issues. Of course it was called the Urban Underground. I remember a fantastic front page (staged) photo which showed a man dressed in a business suit, carrying an attache case, descending into a subway entrance wearing a gas mask.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Sex offer for pay...adult .explicit material. Don't read if offended.
My previously mentioned hitch hike to Chicago for the 1968 convention brought me face to face with a surprising situation.
My hitch hike to the Chicago area was pretty uneventful once I got out the NYC area. I arrived on one of the Chicago beltways in a pretty big rain storm, so got out of my last ride about 2:00 a.m. at a rest stop. I didn't think it would be cool to hitch on the rest area exit, so stood in the rest stop building trying to figure my next move. I saw a middle aged guy get out of a phone booth, and when he reached the door, I asked him if he was going to Chicago. He said yes and he would give me a ride.
I got in his big black car....something like a Buick. Down the rainy road we went. Pretty soon it became obvious to me he was drunk. His speech was slurred and all over the place and so was his driving. I was just thinking how I could ask him to let me off, without getting him angry and unpredictable. While I was working out my words, he turned to me and made the following offer:
I'll give you $5.00 for oral sex. (BTW those were not the words he used.) I was really caught by surprise. I knew I didn't want to rile him up. So I just said, "I'm not into that." Silence. More Silence. He didn't get mad\. So after a few more minutes, I just said to him, "Could please just let me off here." Again, luckily, he did.
I didn't know (or know today) many people have been so propositioned. And on top of it, $5.00 seemed pretty darned cheap.
I stood in the rain outside Chicago getting over my surprise. But mostly I was relieved nothing worse occurred in that car. The most likely outcome was a crash given his driving. The second most likely was him getting mad....and who knows?
My hitch hike to the Chicago area was pretty uneventful once I got out the NYC area. I arrived on one of the Chicago beltways in a pretty big rain storm, so got out of my last ride about 2:00 a.m. at a rest stop. I didn't think it would be cool to hitch on the rest area exit, so stood in the rest stop building trying to figure my next move. I saw a middle aged guy get out of a phone booth, and when he reached the door, I asked him if he was going to Chicago. He said yes and he would give me a ride.
I got in his big black car....something like a Buick. Down the rainy road we went. Pretty soon it became obvious to me he was drunk. His speech was slurred and all over the place and so was his driving. I was just thinking how I could ask him to let me off, without getting him angry and unpredictable. While I was working out my words, he turned to me and made the following offer:
I'll give you $5.00 for oral sex. (BTW those were not the words he used.) I was really caught by surprise. I knew I didn't want to rile him up. So I just said, "I'm not into that." Silence. More Silence. He didn't get mad\. So after a few more minutes, I just said to him, "Could please just let me off here." Again, luckily, he did.
I didn't know (or know today) many people have been so propositioned. And on top of it, $5.00 seemed pretty darned cheap.
I stood in the rain outside Chicago getting over my surprise. But mostly I was relieved nothing worse occurred in that car. The most likely outcome was a crash given his driving. The second most likely was him getting mad....and who knows?
Tales of an Urban Guerilla
Here's the thread that got me started on this blog. I'm finally getting around to it. I have always been a story teller for my kids. They were particularly fond of my new left 60's adventures. Abby got me to start writing chapters for a future book....suggested title: Tales of an Urban Guerilla.
In 1968 as the democratic convention unrolled with Hubert Humphrey, and Eugene McCarthy vying for the nomination (Candidate Bobby Kennedy had been assassinated in June) the feeling throughout the anti-war movement was apocalyptic. We felt we had forced Lyndon Johnson not to run and could end the Vietnam war with people' pressure on the convention. At the same time Mayor Daley was issuing menacing and threatening warnings for demonstrators to stay away from Chicago.
I had graduated from Bryn Mawr Social Work School and was at home in New Jersey looking for a job. I wasn't going to go, but took Daley's threats personally, so off I went, hitting the road with my thumb out for Chicago. After an eventful trip (that's another story) I arrived at the demonstrations. I remember the lines of army national guard along the lake with bayonets pointed in our direction (as well as the "flower power" girls who stuck flowers in their guns.) I still shiver at the thought and feeling of having American soldiers pointing guns and bayonets at our own people. The nation was really tearing apart....and it was real scary. Nobody knew how far they would go....use the bayonets? shoot real bullets? These were such uncharted waters.
I also remember hearing Dave Dellinger in Grant Park and having the Chicago police charge the crowd after a demonstrator pulled down an American flag. That footage is often on television and I was standing pretty near the flag pole when he did it....which means I was right in the middle of the night stick swinging Chicago police. Somehow the memory that sticks in my mind was how every one of them seemed fat. Was that why we called them "pigs?" "Today's pigs are tomorrow's bacon!" went one chant.
Late that night I was on Lake Shore Drive with a large group of demonstrators trying to get to the convention center. A large battalion of police started marching towards us with night sticks out. It looked grim for us. Sitting on the sidewalk, I saw one of those huge gas powered lights with a huge concentrating mirror used to make scenes look glamorous as in Hollywood film openings. I jumped on the light trailer and somehow figured how to re aim the light down Lake Shore Drive at the line of police. Like little tin solders the intense light forced them to fall to the ground and scatter. One for the people! Our group escaped attack.
The next day the Chicago Tribune covered the defeat of a a police column with the gas light aimed by "an unknown urban guerilla!"
So what else do I remember? I don't have any memory of how I slept or how I got back to New Jersey. I do remember meeting a kind of hippie guy from NYC. He shared his food with me...which was kind of jazzed up kashe varnishkes with lots of celery and mushrooms added to make it a heartier dish. It was delicous. He carried a pre cooked plastic bag of this all the way from NYC to sustain himself all through the demonstrations. Wonder where he is now?
In 1968 as the democratic convention unrolled with Hubert Humphrey, and Eugene McCarthy vying for the nomination (Candidate Bobby Kennedy had been assassinated in June) the feeling throughout the anti-war movement was apocalyptic. We felt we had forced Lyndon Johnson not to run and could end the Vietnam war with people' pressure on the convention. At the same time Mayor Daley was issuing menacing and threatening warnings for demonstrators to stay away from Chicago.
I had graduated from Bryn Mawr Social Work School and was at home in New Jersey looking for a job. I wasn't going to go, but took Daley's threats personally, so off I went, hitting the road with my thumb out for Chicago. After an eventful trip (that's another story) I arrived at the demonstrations. I remember the lines of army national guard along the lake with bayonets pointed in our direction (as well as the "flower power" girls who stuck flowers in their guns.) I still shiver at the thought and feeling of having American soldiers pointing guns and bayonets at our own people. The nation was really tearing apart....and it was real scary. Nobody knew how far they would go....use the bayonets? shoot real bullets? These were such uncharted waters.
I also remember hearing Dave Dellinger in Grant Park and having the Chicago police charge the crowd after a demonstrator pulled down an American flag. That footage is often on television and I was standing pretty near the flag pole when he did it....which means I was right in the middle of the night stick swinging Chicago police. Somehow the memory that sticks in my mind was how every one of them seemed fat. Was that why we called them "pigs?" "Today's pigs are tomorrow's bacon!" went one chant.
Late that night I was on Lake Shore Drive with a large group of demonstrators trying to get to the convention center. A large battalion of police started marching towards us with night sticks out. It looked grim for us. Sitting on the sidewalk, I saw one of those huge gas powered lights with a huge concentrating mirror used to make scenes look glamorous as in Hollywood film openings. I jumped on the light trailer and somehow figured how to re aim the light down Lake Shore Drive at the line of police. Like little tin solders the intense light forced them to fall to the ground and scatter. One for the people! Our group escaped attack.
The next day the Chicago Tribune covered the defeat of a a police column with the gas light aimed by "an unknown urban guerilla!"
So what else do I remember? I don't have any memory of how I slept or how I got back to New Jersey. I do remember meeting a kind of hippie guy from NYC. He shared his food with me...which was kind of jazzed up kashe varnishkes with lots of celery and mushrooms added to make it a heartier dish. It was delicous. He carried a pre cooked plastic bag of this all the way from NYC to sustain himself all through the demonstrations. Wonder where he is now?
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Apt Description of American Journalistm
from Nation editorial on upcoming retirement of Bill Moyers and apt description of the current state of American journalism:
"..practicing stenography to power."
"..practicing stenography to power."
On post Copenhagen environmental politics
Mike Davis from New Left Review:
"We must start thinking like Noah...since most of history's giant trees have already been cut down, a new Ark will have to be constructed out of the material that a desperate humanity finds at hand in insurgent communities, pirate technologies, bootlegged media, rebel science, and forgotten utopias."
"We must start thinking like Noah...since most of history's giant trees have already been cut down, a new Ark will have to be constructed out of the material that a desperate humanity finds at hand in insurgent communities, pirate technologies, bootlegged media, rebel science, and forgotten utopias."
Friday, March 12, 2010
The Next Mylan fortune
There are a bunch of people around Morgantown who invested in Mylan Pharmaceuticul 30 plus years ago. They are mostly pretty wealthy now, based on the increased value of that stock.
OK. So I and some colleagues are restarting up our for profit WVu spinoff to produce and market safety audits to run on handheld computers.
We've been at it for more than 15 years and once before set up a for profit "Backpocket." We weren't about making money, but wanted to "disseminate" something we thought could save lives. At the height of venture capital times we thought we could attract some money to do the two things we hadn't done developing this software out of the university base: 1. Invest in marketing. 2. Make it pretty. Well the VC market went away and we've been plugging along developing this as a research product. Low and behold the current version seems cool enough to sell to the public and we have a partner to handle distribution.
So now we are setting up our private company again. WVU will own 19%. I will own somewhere around 30%. In talking to other future shareholders (based on past and present contributions) the idea of getting rich as in Mylan came up. So I'm thinking, "that is a wild fantasy." But every once in a while the little birdie inside me says, "and what if you actually made some money out of this..."
I'll guess we'll have to just wait and see.
Hopefully we'll save some damn lives! (inside joke)
OK. So I and some colleagues are restarting up our for profit WVu spinoff to produce and market safety audits to run on handheld computers.
We've been at it for more than 15 years and once before set up a for profit "Backpocket." We weren't about making money, but wanted to "disseminate" something we thought could save lives. At the height of venture capital times we thought we could attract some money to do the two things we hadn't done developing this software out of the university base: 1. Invest in marketing. 2. Make it pretty. Well the VC market went away and we've been plugging along developing this as a research product. Low and behold the current version seems cool enough to sell to the public and we have a partner to handle distribution.
So now we are setting up our private company again. WVU will own 19%. I will own somewhere around 30%. In talking to other future shareholders (based on past and present contributions) the idea of getting rich as in Mylan came up. So I'm thinking, "that is a wild fantasy." But every once in a while the little birdie inside me says, "and what if you actually made some money out of this..."
I'll guess we'll have to just wait and see.
Hopefully we'll save some damn lives! (inside joke)
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Big Finance Free to Screw it up Again
USA today reports on Simon Johnson (MIT Economist) and Joseph Stiglitz (Nobel Prize winner) bemoaning the loss of the crisis moment to make urgently needed reforms to our financial regulatory system.
Here are some quotes:
Johnson on why ordinary Americans should care about finance reform: " Which part of 8 million jobs lost since December 2007 do you not understand? Why did those jobs go away? Who lost those jobs? It was finance. It was irresponsible behavior by finance."
Johnson on why Obama's team messed up: "These guys were prepared to govern. ..... But they didn't ever thingkabout financial reform because the completely drank the Kool-Aid. They ...were blindsided. They had no intellectual preparation for this....Why? Because they bought into the idea, the myth of finance. what's unusual is the extent of intellectual capture by the financial industry."
Of course Obama knew exactly whom he was appointing when he picked these wall street sycophants.
Stiglitz on whether the political system is capable of enacting major reforms: "There's a real question of the capacity of our democracy to deal the the big issues. This is a big issue. And yet, nothing's being done."
Stiglitz on consequences of not reforming the financial system: "The next crisis will almost inevitably follow if we don't make the reforms that we've talked about. We're not out of the woods.?
I've also been following some of the European press - BBC, The Economist. Europeans clearly believe our political system is paralyzed and unable to function. Financial reform and health care reform are two urgent needs where the system has just locked up.
Here are some quotes:
Johnson on why ordinary Americans should care about finance reform: " Which part of 8 million jobs lost since December 2007 do you not understand? Why did those jobs go away? Who lost those jobs? It was finance. It was irresponsible behavior by finance."
Johnson on why Obama's team messed up: "These guys were prepared to govern. ..... But they didn't ever thingkabout financial reform because the completely drank the Kool-Aid. They ...were blindsided. They had no intellectual preparation for this....Why? Because they bought into the idea, the myth of finance. what's unusual is the extent of intellectual capture by the financial industry."
Of course Obama knew exactly whom he was appointing when he picked these wall street sycophants.
Stiglitz on whether the political system is capable of enacting major reforms: "There's a real question of the capacity of our democracy to deal the the big issues. This is a big issue. And yet, nothing's being done."
Stiglitz on consequences of not reforming the financial system: "The next crisis will almost inevitably follow if we don't make the reforms that we've talked about. We're not out of the woods.?
I've also been following some of the European press - BBC, The Economist. Europeans clearly believe our political system is paralyzed and unable to function. Financial reform and health care reform are two urgent needs where the system has just locked up.
What's the left to do (about Obama)
I'm biting the bullet and supporting the current health care bill over none at all. The most important things is that essential access to health care will increase for millions of Americans. The fact that the whole bill is centered around and exclusively oriented to supporting the for profit insurance model is very disappointing.
One way for progressives to respond is to do what folks in Arkansas are doing. They are opposing the primary campaign of Blanche Lincoln, a Senate incumbent who opposed the public option. She is being supported by Obama but Move On.org and the Arkansas AFL-CIO are supporting and providing funds for her opponent, Lt Gov. Bill Halter, who is supportive of public option and other more liberal programs.
The liberal wing of the Democratic party needs to learn from the Conservative right how to insist its views be at their party's table. (We also need to balance with how not to splinter the party so fully that the Republicans win.)
One way for progressives to respond is to do what folks in Arkansas are doing. They are opposing the primary campaign of Blanche Lincoln, a Senate incumbent who opposed the public option. She is being supported by Obama but Move On.org and the Arkansas AFL-CIO are supporting and providing funds for her opponent, Lt Gov. Bill Halter, who is supportive of public option and other more liberal programs.
The liberal wing of the Democratic party needs to learn from the Conservative right how to insist its views be at their party's table. (We also need to balance with how not to splinter the party so fully that the Republicans win.)
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Practicing for Showcase
April 4 I'm doing a musical showcase...just me. Kind of a self indulgent thing I've always wanted to do. In this case I was invited by Ro Brooks Director of the Monongalia Arts Center. So at least someone but me wants this.
My concept is - classical piano, blues piano, klezmer accordion. Hopefully the whole is equal to more than the sum of the parts. I have been working on the classical music for over a month. For a while I made pretty good progress. However I'm making glazier pace progress on the Bach. I'm a pretty fierce and efficient practicer, so it's got me a bit puzzled. I realized, however, the parts that are giving me fits are ones I had problems with 40 years ago and never solved. It may be they are over my head technically. I'm determined however to push hard on them, so I'm focusing hours of practicing on abou 8 lines of music. Hope it works....which would maybe mean I had actually advanced technically.
I haven't rehearsed the klezmer at all, and barely thought about the blues....which will be all improvised. So a lot depends there on the mood of the moment. I will try some things out so I have a little pallet to paint from.
My other challenge is to not practice too much. Too much would mean enough stress on the old fingers to wake up my dormant finger arthritis. I may have gone a bit far this weekend. I'll have to back off. Hopefully the stiffness and pain will recede. ......Not practice too much? HaHaHa. Seriously I like and sometimes love to practice.....though I havent' practiced classical in 40 years.
In late breaking news, the showcase will be a two becker event (boy that sounds dangerous.) Nina will be showing some fantastic pieces from her mid MFA show called Thank G_d for Mississippi.
Please join us.
April 4
3:00 p.m.
MAC
High Street, Morgantown
My concept is - classical piano, blues piano, klezmer accordion. Hopefully the whole is equal to more than the sum of the parts. I have been working on the classical music for over a month. For a while I made pretty good progress. However I'm making glazier pace progress on the Bach. I'm a pretty fierce and efficient practicer, so it's got me a bit puzzled. I realized, however, the parts that are giving me fits are ones I had problems with 40 years ago and never solved. It may be they are over my head technically. I'm determined however to push hard on them, so I'm focusing hours of practicing on abou 8 lines of music. Hope it works....which would maybe mean I had actually advanced technically.
I haven't rehearsed the klezmer at all, and barely thought about the blues....which will be all improvised. So a lot depends there on the mood of the moment. I will try some things out so I have a little pallet to paint from.
My other challenge is to not practice too much. Too much would mean enough stress on the old fingers to wake up my dormant finger arthritis. I may have gone a bit far this weekend. I'll have to back off. Hopefully the stiffness and pain will recede. ......Not practice too much? HaHaHa. Seriously I like and sometimes love to practice.....though I havent' practiced classical in 40 years.
In late breaking news, the showcase will be a two becker event (boy that sounds dangerous.) Nina will be showing some fantastic pieces from her mid MFA show called Thank G_d for Mississippi.
Please join us.
April 4
3:00 p.m.
MAC
High Street, Morgantown
Friday, March 5, 2010
Pond Friends
For the last 15 years or so (and in two different houses) I've had a goldfish pond. I really like my fish. Maybe I even love them. Most decent weather mornings I go out and spend some quiet time with them. Our pond is of course artificial; holds about 250 gallons of water, runs a nice rocky waterfall.
The population runs from 12 - 18 fish. These are goldfish. The pond is too small for koi. But they are multicolored and quite different:. There are solid goldfish, white with big gold splotches. Red with blue and black dots, silvery with red, and a few plain old brown.
In March/April I usually have 2-4 fish die. It's my understanding that as things warm up the pond get stuff growing before the fish come back from winter and get their immune systems going. Today I saw that a pretty red and black one is looking a day or two from the end. Everyone in the family is curious to know what I do with the fish who pass on. I'm not telling. My lips are sealed.
Now come late spring we usually get some births. Sometimes we just see fish from the prior year, that might have been too small or reclusive to see before. Goldfish are not fussy eaters. If they can, they'll eat their young. I guess it's a pretty good adaptation for youngs fish to hide.
Sometime in mid to late summer, Abby and I have tended to name the fish. Here is the 2009 list with identifying information:
Sven: Big Mottled gold & black
Stephan: White 2/gold head
Margo: Red black and blue big
Solfeg: Silver
Johnny: Gold skinny
Applesee: Rounder gold
Bambi: All gold white tail
Helena: Fat gold helicopter tail
Hip: White with orange tail
Hooray: Gold Mottled
Devendra: Little blue, red head
Formerly Brown: (white lt orange)
Pip Jr: Little Brown
Lucy the Elephant: Red, Silver, white head big snout
2 baby Devendras (not yet named)
Howl: Tiny brown
I believe it's Margo who is fading.
Now you know
The population runs from 12 - 18 fish. These are goldfish. The pond is too small for koi. But they are multicolored and quite different:. There are solid goldfish, white with big gold splotches. Red with blue and black dots, silvery with red, and a few plain old brown.
In March/April I usually have 2-4 fish die. It's my understanding that as things warm up the pond get stuff growing before the fish come back from winter and get their immune systems going. Today I saw that a pretty red and black one is looking a day or two from the end. Everyone in the family is curious to know what I do with the fish who pass on. I'm not telling. My lips are sealed.
Now come late spring we usually get some births. Sometimes we just see fish from the prior year, that might have been too small or reclusive to see before. Goldfish are not fussy eaters. If they can, they'll eat their young. I guess it's a pretty good adaptation for youngs fish to hide.
Sometime in mid to late summer, Abby and I have tended to name the fish. Here is the 2009 list with identifying information:
Sven: Big Mottled gold & black
Stephan: White 2/gold head
Margo: Red black and blue big
Solfeg: Silver
Johnny: Gold skinny
Applesee: Rounder gold
Bambi: All gold white tail
Helena: Fat gold helicopter tail
Hip: White with orange tail
Hooray: Gold Mottled
Devendra: Little blue, red head
Formerly Brown: (white lt orange)
Pip Jr: Little Brown
Lucy the Elephant: Red, Silver, white head big snout
2 baby Devendras (not yet named)
Howl: Tiny brown
I believe it's Margo who is fading.
Now you know
Thursday, March 4, 2010
US Democracy
....from the Economist
41 Senators can block any bill in Congress. If they happened to come from the smallest states, they would represent about 10% of the US population.
According to this article three things have come together to cause deadlock:
1. Cloture rule in Senate
2. Loss of Kennedy seat in Massachussets
3. Bitter partisanship and a willingness by Republicans to gain political advantage by saying "no" to everything
41 Senators can block any bill in Congress. If they happened to come from the smallest states, they would represent about 10% of the US population.
According to this article three things have come together to cause deadlock:
1. Cloture rule in Senate
2. Loss of Kennedy seat in Massachussets
3. Bitter partisanship and a willingness by Republicans to gain political advantage by saying "no" to everything
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Stairwalker
In 1965 I happened to peak into the trash can near the faculty mail boxes at Haverford. I saw some writing about a proposed junior year abroad option. I was frustrated by not being allowed by the music department to compete to play a piano concerto with the college orchestra and thought...why not junior year in NYC going to music school. Long and short of it I ended up attending Mannes College of Music for the winter semester.
I moved to NYC into the apartment of a Haverfordian, Lance Jackson, who had taken a break from school. The apartment was on Thompson Street in the"village." If 5th Avenue continued south through or past Washington Square Park, it would be Thompson Street. We were right next to a huge Catholic Church that served Little Italy to the south. (I remember the hard little rolls from the neighborhood Italian bakery that were not sweet and buttery, but spicy with a lot of pepper and other spices I couldn't identify.)
So the apartment was on the 7th floor with no elevator. That tenement was built during the early 20th c influx of immigrants. It was never legal. Buildings were only allowed to go 6 floors without elevators. I wonder what payola got it built. Here's the thing.....living on the seventh floor does a lot of things for you:
1. strong climbing legs
2. Small frequent trips for groceries (no 3 baggers)
3.Learn not to forget things....don't go back upstairs for a pencil.
On the first floor was an Italian social club.....all men in black and grey smoking and playing cards all day. When you see these ethnic male social clubs, do you ever wonder what their wives are doing while they're chillin' Working? cooking? doing their own social thing?
Most NYC tenements have 4 apartments per floor. You probably have one room at the front (or back) of the building with decent windows. If there's another tenement next to you the other rooms just have windows into a narrow air space where each tenement sets back a bit from the next building. Most of the rooms just abutt to the next building.
Well I though Lance was pretty cool because he filled one of these windows with laying on their side colored beer bottles. I thought it was coole partly because it was actually attractive like stained glass, a clever idea, and I kind of admired him for drinking beer (or anything elsse.) I was still at a stage where alcohol (and coffee) "tasted bad." Not very cool
Lance owned a maroon Norton motorcycle. I think it was 750cc. Yes he was very cool. I remember he let me try it out on Thompson Street. It was pretty heavy, but fun.....a big powerful beast. I won't own a motorcycle today because I have too many other obsessive interest/hobbies, and motorcycles would just add to that picture, and be dangerous to boot. But sometimes I think.....well what about just one old timer....maybe a British bike like a Norton, Triumph, or BSA, or maybe an old BMW with crankshaft (instead of chain) and cool looking opposed cylinders. HMMMMM?
Well of course I needed a piano in my apartment. So can you imagine that two guys hauled a rented piano up all 7 flights of stairs. I mean one moment their truck pulled in on the street. I could hardly turn around before the were knocking on my door with the really big upright literally in hand. They reminded me of the guys who delivered coal in huge shoulder slung baskets to houses in Newark that didn't have coal chutes. They also reminded my of cartoon popeye. They were not really big guys....maybe 5'8" or less. And they weren't big chested either. But their arms.....oh my! They had arms like tree stumps! How much does an upright piano weight. I'm guessing 500 pound plus. Straight up the stairs they trucked. Now I can't say they looked happy about the seven flights when they got there. But they did it. I hope I tipped them.
This is running on, so I'll save my other adventures...mostly with girls/women on that semester. Oh yeah, I did learn a lot of piano.
I moved to NYC into the apartment of a Haverfordian, Lance Jackson, who had taken a break from school. The apartment was on Thompson Street in the"village." If 5th Avenue continued south through or past Washington Square Park, it would be Thompson Street. We were right next to a huge Catholic Church that served Little Italy to the south. (I remember the hard little rolls from the neighborhood Italian bakery that were not sweet and buttery, but spicy with a lot of pepper and other spices I couldn't identify.)
So the apartment was on the 7th floor with no elevator. That tenement was built during the early 20th c influx of immigrants. It was never legal. Buildings were only allowed to go 6 floors without elevators. I wonder what payola got it built. Here's the thing.....living on the seventh floor does a lot of things for you:
1. strong climbing legs
2. Small frequent trips for groceries (no 3 baggers)
3.Learn not to forget things....don't go back upstairs for a pencil.
On the first floor was an Italian social club.....all men in black and grey smoking and playing cards all day. When you see these ethnic male social clubs, do you ever wonder what their wives are doing while they're chillin' Working? cooking? doing their own social thing?
Most NYC tenements have 4 apartments per floor. You probably have one room at the front (or back) of the building with decent windows. If there's another tenement next to you the other rooms just have windows into a narrow air space where each tenement sets back a bit from the next building. Most of the rooms just abutt to the next building.
Well I though Lance was pretty cool because he filled one of these windows with laying on their side colored beer bottles. I thought it was coole partly because it was actually attractive like stained glass, a clever idea, and I kind of admired him for drinking beer (or anything elsse.) I was still at a stage where alcohol (and coffee) "tasted bad." Not very cool
Lance owned a maroon Norton motorcycle. I think it was 750cc. Yes he was very cool. I remember he let me try it out on Thompson Street. It was pretty heavy, but fun.....a big powerful beast. I won't own a motorcycle today because I have too many other obsessive interest/hobbies, and motorcycles would just add to that picture, and be dangerous to boot. But sometimes I think.....well what about just one old timer....maybe a British bike like a Norton, Triumph, or BSA, or maybe an old BMW with crankshaft (instead of chain) and cool looking opposed cylinders. HMMMMM?
Well of course I needed a piano in my apartment. So can you imagine that two guys hauled a rented piano up all 7 flights of stairs. I mean one moment their truck pulled in on the street. I could hardly turn around before the were knocking on my door with the really big upright literally in hand. They reminded me of the guys who delivered coal in huge shoulder slung baskets to houses in Newark that didn't have coal chutes. They also reminded my of cartoon popeye. They were not really big guys....maybe 5'8" or less. And they weren't big chested either. But their arms.....oh my! They had arms like tree stumps! How much does an upright piano weight. I'm guessing 500 pound plus. Straight up the stairs they trucked. Now I can't say they looked happy about the seven flights when they got there. But they did it. I hope I tipped them.
This is running on, so I'll save my other adventures...mostly with girls/women on that semester. Oh yeah, I did learn a lot of piano.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Community Sailing on the Charles
If you've ever been to Boston, you've probably seen the numerous small sailboats on the Charles. You know that they represent an egalitarian community sailing operation that teaches youth and adults to sail at low prices. The history, however, represents a miniature picture of class struggle in Boston, with the the addition of a ruling class philanthropist and his family leading the working class revolution.
...based on Sailing for All; Sea History, Spring 2010 by Mari Anne Snow, Gary C. du Moulin and Charles Zechel
Joe Lee, born 1901 is the father of community sailing in Boston. As with other "progressive" scions of ruling class families, he believed in public education and exposure to adventure and the outdoors to remediate some of the class related problems associated with America's industrial revolution. (He is descended from Thomas Hanasyd Perkins, who is reputed to have turned down cabinet post as George Washington's Secretary of the Navy because he reputedly already owned more ships.)
Joe's aunt Helen Storrow had prior created the Charles River Basin with a gift of $1 million, intended as a public water playground. It turned out to be monopolized by wealthy boaters and sailors from MIT. Joe lead a 20 year guerilla campaign to retake the basin for poor immigrant kids. He started a boat club lower on the Charles where the kids built their own boats, and assisted a guerilla campaign to send these kids with their boats into upper class territory. His club also conducted a vigorous political lobbying campaign to release some of aunt storrow's money for a community boat building. The wealthy opposition was lead by Eugene Hultmann. Guerilla theater also played a role with the tenement boys bring a sailboat christened Eugene Hultman to the floor of the state house. Ultimately they got the money released for the boathouse.
As these things go the richies counterattacked, and through a complex set of moves coopted the newly built boathouse and kept out the rifraff by high sailing fees. It was not until many of the young "tenement ratsreturned from war the the old guard faded away and Community Boating Incorporated became what it is today, an egalitarian insitution that welcomes thousands to the adventures of sailing.
I'm trying to draw a lesson here, but besides the cycle of exlusion, guerilla war, lobbying, victory, cooptation, it seems like the poeple's power won out here by dint of sheer persistence....and possibly the fact that there were rich and powerful progressives on their side from the beginning.
What do you think?
...based on Sailing for All; Sea History, Spring 2010 by Mari Anne Snow, Gary C. du Moulin and Charles Zechel
Joe Lee, born 1901 is the father of community sailing in Boston. As with other "progressive" scions of ruling class families, he believed in public education and exposure to adventure and the outdoors to remediate some of the class related problems associated with America's industrial revolution. (He is descended from Thomas Hanasyd Perkins, who is reputed to have turned down cabinet post as George Washington's Secretary of the Navy because he reputedly already owned more ships.)
Joe's aunt Helen Storrow had prior created the Charles River Basin with a gift of $1 million, intended as a public water playground. It turned out to be monopolized by wealthy boaters and sailors from MIT. Joe lead a 20 year guerilla campaign to retake the basin for poor immigrant kids. He started a boat club lower on the Charles where the kids built their own boats, and assisted a guerilla campaign to send these kids with their boats into upper class territory. His club also conducted a vigorous political lobbying campaign to release some of aunt storrow's money for a community boat building. The wealthy opposition was lead by Eugene Hultmann. Guerilla theater also played a role with the tenement boys bring a sailboat christened Eugene Hultman to the floor of the state house. Ultimately they got the money released for the boathouse.
As these things go the richies counterattacked, and through a complex set of moves coopted the newly built boathouse and kept out the rifraff by high sailing fees. It was not until many of the young "tenement ratsreturned from war the the old guard faded away and Community Boating Incorporated became what it is today, an egalitarian insitution that welcomes thousands to the adventures of sailing.
I'm trying to draw a lesson here, but besides the cycle of exlusion, guerilla war, lobbying, victory, cooptation, it seems like the poeple's power won out here by dint of sheer persistence....and possibly the fact that there were rich and powerful progressives on their side from the beginning.
What do you think?
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