Yesterday, I was yearning for a roast chicken, and in need of some medication so I decided to go to the Costco on E. 116th Street. On the subway map it looks quite simple. Take the train to 116, walk four blocks and like magic – warehouse heaven. And it was simple but I forgot to plan for what to do once the shopping was over and my bag (I remembered to bring a solid, big, carry satchel) was full. You cannot go to Costco and not find things you need desperately, like 300 AA batteries and Acai juice.
Anyway the bag was heavy and no one volunteered to schlep for me, so what to do. Well, because I have amazing leadership qualities I decided to take a bus to the subway and then walk the two blocks (which I figured could be handled) back to the apartment.
Speaking of leadership, am I too late to talk about the vacuum in leadership – everywhere? The reason for this is that it’s easier to follow than to lead. But following has never been comfortable for me. The minute someone tells me what to do it is inevitable that I won’t do t. And if I do, I won’t do it the way I’m told to do it. [Editor's Note: Do NOT tell Iris to "have a nice day!"] That’s just bratty, right? But bratty or other wise I have always preferred to be the beacon of light that guides the sailors to the shore – rather than be the rocks or the sand. (I have no idea what that means but go with it for a while.)
When I was thirteen I learned that if you look like you know where you are walking people will follow you. You don’t have to know anything, you just have to look confident about not being clueless. This quality is especially important in politics because no one has any idea about where they are going or what they are doing, so it’s easy to emerge as a genius just by looking like you know what you are doing.
My point is, it’s not hard to lead if you have some courage, maybe a little chutzpah, and the ability to make a decision. The problem is, Presidents are notorious for indecision. Maybe it’s because deciding has often led the country into war or other calamity. Maybe it’s because bad decisions lead to one term Administrations. And maybe it’s because making a decision that impacts the world, is just too damn dangerous and the consequences for a mistake can be monstrous. But not making a decision is, what I call, the passive aggressive way to decide. For example, if you determine that there is a need for a change, but you don’t decide how the changes will be made, changes still get made, but not by you, and not necessarily the changes you want.
It can work both ways – not deciding and always deciding, some call this micromanaging or being a control freak. Jimmy Carter was not a popular President because he wanted to make decisions about everything from, who played on the White House tennis court, to where to hold the Salt II talks. But he did one thing that was incredibly courageous. He made a commitment to human rights -- very good. But in his mind that meant we couldn’t go the Olympics because the Soviet Union was behaving horribly (they “invaded Afghanistan”...sound familiar?) – very bad. There clearly needs to be a middle ground somewhere between these two opposite ends of the continuum. But that is also difficult.
The media is talking about the vacuum in leadership by President Obama. As we used to say, in the years when dinosaurs were king, Duh! There isn’t an issue that he has dealt with successfully, or at least that is what it seems—and perception IS reality. Part of the problem is that because they were afraid to alienate anyone (like Ronald Reagan Democrats) there seemed to be nothing decisive in their policy referendums. Even “Don’t Ask Don’t Tell” remains unresolved – and how stupid is that. The sad thing is that you can’t teach someone to be a leader – it is either who you are, or it’s not. And you can’t teach courage – you either have it or you don’t. So what do we do? I don’t know, maybe an outing to Costco is the answer. We’re just sayin’.... Iris
Friday, February 26, 2010
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
GXR test frames..
It breaks in two... and then, amazingly becomes a CAMERA when you slide the parts back together...
this amazing little camera.. the new modular Ricoh GXR... comes with two basic parts.. the lens&sensor, and the viewfinder/battery/storage.. Cool idea.. and as the lenses expand, which i hope they do.. all kinds of cool things could happen with this system. I am trying to find a shoot (maybe tomorrow, Mr Toyota?) where I could use only this camera and a Speed Graphic. I think we re on the edge of a new paradigm (of course it could happen that I would be fully prepared to miss all pictures with a "variety" of gear... ) Anyway..here are a couple of 3200 asa frames.. larger to see.. i was shocked, what can i say..
this was shot at some reasonable ASA....I sort of hate to see all this techno stuff becoming so ubiquitous.. (the sound of an old farts voice:) "i remember when there was CRAFT to taking pictures...." not that I was very good at it.. but at least i REMEMBER it...
this was shot at ASA 200
these two were shot by a glass door.. (big window light..) f2.5 at 1/1250 i think (im sure its in the metadata..)
click on the pictures to see them BIG
Monday, February 22, 2010
Entitled, Enschmitled
My mother would say, “Entitled, Enshmitled.” Then she would do a face that I can’t explain because it would be somewhere between disgust and annoyance. Your mother probably used the same face when she lost patience with some of your behavior.
John Edwards felt entitled, Bill Clinton felt entitled, Tiger Woods felt entitled, and their kind of entitlement targeted women. It may be entitlement but it is also a serious lack of respect for women – and the role that women play in their lives seems a bit confused.
It is easy to write about male sexual misadventures because there are so many examples. But that’s only one type of entitlement that seriously ticks me off. In the genre of our “sit down and shut up” blob, this is my “What ever happened to ‘excuse me’?” You may not know what I mean so I’ll explain. When I am walking down the street, occasionally minding my own business, there are often people walking next to me or coming toward me. This is no surprise, since if you are walking on the sidewalk there are usually people. The surprise is that too often, those other people would just as soon knock you over as step a little to the side. In some instances they are young and not paying much attention. But lately, there are too many times when they think they are entitled to take up all the space they can, including yours. The same applies to staircases. They do not care if you are coming the other way –they simply will not move over. And when they knock you into the wall, or into the street, they will never say excuse me.
Allow me to give you just a few examples, starting this morning. The sun was shining when I walked out of the building. I tripped lightly down the front stairs and on to the sidewalk. There were a group of teenagers coming toward me so I stopped and moved to the side to let them pass. But they didn’t pass. I’m not a big girl but certainly I am big enough to be seen. It was as if I didn’t exist. They simply plowed right into me. They hit me so hard, they knocked me into the wall and never even acknowledged that they had done so. Nothing, nada, no apology or even a glance back.
A bit shaken but still in a good mood I proceeded down the street to my fitness club. As I walked up to the welcome area some guy, clearly in a hurry to get fit, pushed in front of me so he could give the greeters his pass card before I did. I mean, I was standing there and he stepped in front of me, like if he got there first he would get some kind of a prize. Never mind, I just waited there until he finished – and then the greeter caught my eye and we just shook our head and laughed. I hadn’t realized that he was entitled to be first.
After that less than friendly encounter I got into my work-out wear and went to find an elliptical cardio machine. There are about 10 TV’s you can watch and depending on which machine you choose, you can often pick your own station. Today, 4 TV’s in the same area were playing some ridiculous Mel Gibson movie. I asked the people immediately in front of the TV if, since 4 of them were playing the same program, I could change one. Apparently I couldn’t because they were all entitled to watch the same show on the TV they liked best. So I listened to a book on tape.
A bit discouraged about humankind, but still hopeful, I heated in the steam room, cooled off in a nice shower, wrapped myself in towels and walked back to my locker. There are 6 areas with lockers with one bench in each area. It is possible for three or four people to dress in one area, if they are a little respectful about how much space they use for personal belongings. In my cubby, one woman covered the one bench with her wet towel and gym bag. This left absolutely no room for anyone else. But she didn’t care, she was clearly entitled to take up all the space that existed for anyone who needed to use it.
My oh my, where did all the manners go? My hope is that all the people who are well described by “Sit down and shut up” or “excuse me”, will grow up, grow smart or just grow. We’re just sayin..Iris
John Edwards felt entitled, Bill Clinton felt entitled, Tiger Woods felt entitled, and their kind of entitlement targeted women. It may be entitlement but it is also a serious lack of respect for women – and the role that women play in their lives seems a bit confused.
It is easy to write about male sexual misadventures because there are so many examples. But that’s only one type of entitlement that seriously ticks me off. In the genre of our “sit down and shut up” blob, this is my “What ever happened to ‘excuse me’?” You may not know what I mean so I’ll explain. When I am walking down the street, occasionally minding my own business, there are often people walking next to me or coming toward me. This is no surprise, since if you are walking on the sidewalk there are usually people. The surprise is that too often, those other people would just as soon knock you over as step a little to the side. In some instances they are young and not paying much attention. But lately, there are too many times when they think they are entitled to take up all the space they can, including yours. The same applies to staircases. They do not care if you are coming the other way –they simply will not move over. And when they knock you into the wall, or into the street, they will never say excuse me.
Allow me to give you just a few examples, starting this morning. The sun was shining when I walked out of the building. I tripped lightly down the front stairs and on to the sidewalk. There were a group of teenagers coming toward me so I stopped and moved to the side to let them pass. But they didn’t pass. I’m not a big girl but certainly I am big enough to be seen. It was as if I didn’t exist. They simply plowed right into me. They hit me so hard, they knocked me into the wall and never even acknowledged that they had done so. Nothing, nada, no apology or even a glance back.
A bit shaken but still in a good mood I proceeded down the street to my fitness club. As I walked up to the welcome area some guy, clearly in a hurry to get fit, pushed in front of me so he could give the greeters his pass card before I did. I mean, I was standing there and he stepped in front of me, like if he got there first he would get some kind of a prize. Never mind, I just waited there until he finished – and then the greeter caught my eye and we just shook our head and laughed. I hadn’t realized that he was entitled to be first.
After that less than friendly encounter I got into my work-out wear and went to find an elliptical cardio machine. There are about 10 TV’s you can watch and depending on which machine you choose, you can often pick your own station. Today, 4 TV’s in the same area were playing some ridiculous Mel Gibson movie. I asked the people immediately in front of the TV if, since 4 of them were playing the same program, I could change one. Apparently I couldn’t because they were all entitled to watch the same show on the TV they liked best. So I listened to a book on tape.
A bit discouraged about humankind, but still hopeful, I heated in the steam room, cooled off in a nice shower, wrapped myself in towels and walked back to my locker. There are 6 areas with lockers with one bench in each area. It is possible for three or four people to dress in one area, if they are a little respectful about how much space they use for personal belongings. In my cubby, one woman covered the one bench with her wet towel and gym bag. This left absolutely no room for anyone else. But she didn’t care, she was clearly entitled to take up all the space that existed for anyone who needed to use it.
My oh my, where did all the manners go? My hope is that all the people who are well described by “Sit down and shut up” or “excuse me”, will grow up, grow smart or just grow. We’re just sayin..Iris
Thursday, February 18, 2010
The Lord Giveth....
“The Lord Giveth and the Lord Taketh Away.” That’s how we described the snow removal in DC when I first lived in the District. What it meant was that we would see the roads and maybe our cars sometime in the Spring. Maybe Adrian Fenty is too young to remember that blizzard in the early 80’s, but it cost Marian Barry his job as Mayor. It wasn’t all because he was in LA having a great old time during the storm and maybe people were just tired of the same old politics, but for a combination of reasons he was outta there.
The Nation’s Capital remains paralyzed by this storm of all storms. – which happened well over a week ago. The Government and all the businesses closed. The snow remained where it fell, schools shut down and nobody went anywhere. That should have been the good news because it should have given the sanitation department the opportunity to use those plows attached to the trash trucks. But the only good news was that with the Government shut down, they couldn’t create any new problems with which the rest of the country would have to deal. The bad news was that despite the fact people stayed home, there was no snow removal. I choose my words quite carefully. The key in that sentence is removal.
Congressional Parking #1
Stacked up snow in the Congressional Lot - foto by Iris BurnettThere were plows that appeared intermittently and pushed the snow around, rather than taking it away – like into the Potomac or some dump. But they left piles of snow in the middle of streets and blocking entrances and exits. Yesterday we had appointments on the Hill and even the parking for Congress people was limited and almost non-existent. The plows did manage to tear up the lots and leave big gaping holes, which didn’t help in terms of available space. There is almost no place in the city where you can fit two lanes of traffic, including a good portion of Capital Hill.
And the suburbs are not much better. The plows took one turn down each street and managed to clear some of the middle but blocked every driveway and sidewalk on the street. The inability for communties to provide services was disgraceful – and the only thing people could do was dig one another out of their own neighborhoods. (People 1, Government at all Levels 0.) But that’s the suburbs where people have cross-country skies and can remain somewhat good humored until they had to go back to work. – which happened yesterday. There are still schools closed for no reason other than the buses are plowed in (“so plow them out!” my mother would say.) But the city is still pretty much at a standstill—this time there are cars on the street but everything is standing still. Four lane roads are 2 and a half. Two lane roads are barely one.
What I don’t understand, and have never understood, is why DC and the surrounding areas are unprepared for the snow. It snows in these mid-Atlantic states. It snows every year and sometimes a great deal. How do they not budget for the weather? I get that it’s hard to prepare for a surprise attack or a hurricane, but snow flakes? What I also don’t understand (obviously there are many things) is why, when the streets were empty of people and cars, the snow wasn’t taken away—not just pushed over a little.
Snow which was not dumped into the PotomacThe Mayor was on TV the other night talking about the fact the there was no money for this dreaded event. He lives close to work so what does he care. If there is no money in the Capitol coffers, call out the National Guard. We haven’t sent them all to Iraq and Afghanistan have we? It is the Nation’s Capital. We pay for the Government to work. What could possibly be the misconnect between snow fall and snow remove?
The Spring will come and maybe the snow will melt in the next few weeks, but what an embarrassing predicament this has become. Grab your shovel and come on down. I won’t be there but those elected officials could all use some help….and I mean that in the nicest possible way. We’re just sayin’... Iris
P.S. And if shoveling and plowing fails, grab lunch from the Greek Deli (19th & L n.w. in downtown D.C.) and just have a great bite while you watch the snow melt.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Saying Gung Hey Fat Choi
My introduction to Chinese/Asian New Year, was through my friends Dick and Germaine Swanson who owned a pan Asian restaurant called Germaine’s at the top of Georgetown. These were in the years before Congressmen were resigning because they (as Evan Bayh said) “don’t like Congress anymore.” We had spent that Sunday watching a quaint little football game (the Super Bowl) – eating our way through the afternoon, and into the evening, when someone reminded us that we were expected to go to Germaine’s for a New Years celebration. And if you were expected, there were no acceptable excuses. Despite the fact that I carried a Diplomatic passport, any New Year other than December 31st was a mystery.
Mark's on Chinese New Year (lunch)
We had eaten what amounted to about 2 and a half dinners, hours before we went to Germaine’s. I figured Chinese New Year, like any other New Year, was about having a few drinks and wishing all our friends well. The fact that we were going to eat yet another big dinner, admittedly, came a surprise. It never occurred to me that Chinese New Year would be a unique New Year experience. Like most New Year parties, this one started quite late – but not because you had to be anywhere at midnight. In fact, the only thing that was required was that you come with a big appetite. As I said, we we unprepared for another big sit down but thanks to the faithful bartender we discovered some good news: that it is amazing what a little tonic water, bitters and lime can accomplish to refresh and rejuvenate a little tummy.
And when the world’s largest platter of fried rice arrived, we ate until we couldn’t move, and then we ate some more – Germaine is quite the chef.
the Year of the Tiger
Over the years my fondness for this multi-named holiday has grown. Some of my favorite (once a year) activities, include going to China Town and searching for the perfect New Year Envelope – in which you put a fresh crinkley new dollar bill (or whatever amount you want), and then present it (using both hands) to the person upon which you are bestowing New Year wishes. Some of this years envelopes (the Year of the Tiger) say “Peace”, others say “good health”, many say “prosperity”. All of them express good wishes about something.
And so once a year we go to “Mark’s Duck House”, our favorite Chinese restaurant for both regular food (Peking Duck, noodles galore and Dim Sum on carts on weekends), and I give all the wonderful young women who push the carts, as well as the administrative staff who supervise, a gorgeous red envelope with wishes for much happiness. It is so much fun. They get very excited because even though I do it once a year, they are always surprised by my thoughtfulness and respect for their celebration. In returns, they bring us the freshest of food and more importantly, tell me how thin, young and fabulous I look. Is that not worth the $15 or $20 I put in all the envelopes? The answer is yes.
And in my dotage, I am still learning ‘stuff’. Here is what I discovered about New Year celebrations. They are always a happy time mixed with some melancholy memories. There is always an emphasis on good food and special dishes that are only prepared on this occasion. In all cultures there is an emphasis on celebrating with family and friends. It is a time of year when people not only talk about how they will change the future, they also reflect on events of the past. In addition, while some folks feel like the New Year is just another holiday that makes people who are alone feel bad, I think there is no bad news about the holiday. It marks the passing of a time which, good or bad, is over. The slate is clean so whatever you want to do, you can do it without the baggage of the old year.
Should auld acquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind? Not a chance. Everything that happens to us in one year should be a lesson learned and not forgot – but the people who have made a difference in your life should remain a part of who you want to be every new year. We’re just sayin’... Iris
Mark's on Chinese New Year (lunch)We had eaten what amounted to about 2 and a half dinners, hours before we went to Germaine’s. I figured Chinese New Year, like any other New Year, was about having a few drinks and wishing all our friends well. The fact that we were going to eat yet another big dinner, admittedly, came a surprise. It never occurred to me that Chinese New Year would be a unique New Year experience. Like most New Year parties, this one started quite late – but not because you had to be anywhere at midnight. In fact, the only thing that was required was that you come with a big appetite. As I said, we we unprepared for another big sit down but thanks to the faithful bartender we discovered some good news: that it is amazing what a little tonic water, bitters and lime can accomplish to refresh and rejuvenate a little tummy.
And when the world’s largest platter of fried rice arrived, we ate until we couldn’t move, and then we ate some more – Germaine is quite the chef.
the Year of the TigerOver the years my fondness for this multi-named holiday has grown. Some of my favorite (once a year) activities, include going to China Town and searching for the perfect New Year Envelope – in which you put a fresh crinkley new dollar bill (or whatever amount you want), and then present it (using both hands) to the person upon which you are bestowing New Year wishes. Some of this years envelopes (the Year of the Tiger) say “Peace”, others say “good health”, many say “prosperity”. All of them express good wishes about something.
And so once a year we go to “Mark’s Duck House”, our favorite Chinese restaurant for both regular food (Peking Duck, noodles galore and Dim Sum on carts on weekends), and I give all the wonderful young women who push the carts, as well as the administrative staff who supervise, a gorgeous red envelope with wishes for much happiness. It is so much fun. They get very excited because even though I do it once a year, they are always surprised by my thoughtfulness and respect for their celebration. In returns, they bring us the freshest of food and more importantly, tell me how thin, young and fabulous I look. Is that not worth the $15 or $20 I put in all the envelopes? The answer is yes.
And in my dotage, I am still learning ‘stuff’. Here is what I discovered about New Year celebrations. They are always a happy time mixed with some melancholy memories. There is always an emphasis on good food and special dishes that are only prepared on this occasion. In all cultures there is an emphasis on celebrating with family and friends. It is a time of year when people not only talk about how they will change the future, they also reflect on events of the past. In addition, while some folks feel like the New Year is just another holiday that makes people who are alone feel bad, I think there is no bad news about the holiday. It marks the passing of a time which, good or bad, is over. The slate is clean so whatever you want to do, you can do it without the baggage of the old year.
Should auld acquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind? Not a chance. Everything that happens to us in one year should be a lesson learned and not forgot – but the people who have made a difference in your life should remain a part of who you want to be every new year. We’re just sayin’... Iris
Monday, February 15, 2010
La Neige, toujours la Neige..
La Neige. Beaucoup neige. Ok.. I missed the Neige part of last week. I must have been out of town since the return yesterday was a bit of a jolt. A fricken winter wonderland as my Aunt Esther would say. Except that rather than the light touches upon the branches of trees, that almost Currier and Ives look of dainty snowflakes, this was more like a tsunami of snow. Deep? It was DEEP. When you fall in up to the middle of your thighs, and walking becomes like a Flash Gordon sequence about the joys of escaping quicksand, you know there is a lot of snow out there.
Coming from Utah I was never really impressed by the snow on the east coast. We had a reasonable parka, but in all my years in Salt Lake I dont think I ever used longjohns to stay warm (well, maybe skiing.) In any event, it was a helluva storm, and even a week later its a challenge to maneuver anywhere outside the house. It was a weekend made for Safeway: they sold and sold and nothing is left. Awaiting that truck from Tennessee to resupply. It's on its way, but it could be a while. Here area few snaps of the side of the house and back yard. For once, the weather folks at local tv who normally have nothing to say, but say it anyway, were almost right about hyping the storm. Given that there is literally no place to throw the plowed snow, dont be surprized if the level of the Potomac goes up a foot or so. We're just sayin'.... David
Half a MiataWhile I was judging the Boston Press Photographers Assn. contest in Boston, one of my pictures of Ted Kennedy won an "Award of Excellence" at the White House News Photographers assn. contest.. here with...
Saturday, February 13, 2010
So Sorry, Faithful Readers...
Dear “We’re Just Sayin” followers -- David and I apologize for the lack of blobbing over the past few months. (Here’s the ‘making excuses’ part of the program). What with my change in careers and suddenly producing five (potentially Broadway) musicals.
Iris' new business card, with thanks to Jeff M. who we miss...
David’s new books, “Soul Rebel” and “44 Days”, and Passover fast approaching, http://www.Gefiltefishchronicles.com/ (Please call your local PBS station and tell them it will be available Royalty FREE through NETA on March 21, we have been a bit overwhelmed with work, play, and our extraordinary popularity. That being said, I am now going to blob (whine) about my adventure in Arlingtonland.
It’s almost Valentines day and my pal Michael Berman has been hosting a Valentines day lunch for all his girlfriends, for thirty years. The group has increased in number from about 10 to 150. And while it’s not as intimate—nor do we get roaring drunk anymore – it’s always fun. We have been celebrating at the Four Seasons for the past few years, so I don’t have to tell you how wonderful the food is. In addition, Michael always gives us the best party favors (and if you’re lucky you can take the gorgeous flowers—like at a Bar Mitzvah.) This year the gift is a little hanger you use to hang your purse from the table, instead of putting it on the floor. (We are big ‘no bags on the bed’ people because if you put your purse, suitcase, or bag of any type on the floor of the subway, restaurant or theater, and then put it on your bed, God knows what you will be sleeping with. Anyway, these adorable devices prevent scuz from getting on your bag.
But where was I? Oh yes, overwhelmed. So, yesterday I planned to travel home to VA. Where you may recall, we had about two feet of snow. Most of the trains from NY to DC were cancelled and the only available seat was on something AMTRAK reorganized to leave at 2PM. This meant there was no way I could get home before dark. But so what. There was no choice. I wanted to go to Michael’s lunch.
snow piled up on the trash cans
The streets from DC to VA. were plowed and, because the US Government was closed, there was no traffic. Oh joy! I thought, this isn’t going to be a nightmare. But when we reached 19th street and saw it wasn’t plowed, I told the cabbie I would walk the two blocks—yes carrying my stuff on the icy pavement. OK, I only fell once. When I arrived at my house I realized that in order to get in I would have to borrow a shovel and dig my way to the front door. That took two hours (There was a lot of snow). When at last I made it up the step and inside, I was wet and cold, which is probably why I didn’t realize there was no heat. I didn’t realize how cold it was downstairs, until I went up to my bedroom where the heat was working.
this would be the 'path' from house to street, like an English Maze
The heating people promised to send a technician between 12-4. Of course, the lunch was from 12-3. But since I had come back to go to the lunch, I was not about to miss it. And I’m delighted that I didn’t because luckily, the technician came at 4 – which is when I thought I better go buy some food. After three or four supermarket stops where there was no milk, eggs, bread, butter, greens, or any produce, I called Trader Joe’s. “Do you have any food in your store”, I asked. “Well, of course, we’re a grocery,” he said somewhat bewildered. Well so are all the Giants, and Safeways but they don’t have any food. (Nothing. Zip, nada.)
Enough whining. The heat is fixed, I have food and wine, and the plow has come through. All in all it’s been a colorful adventure I don’t need to have again. This really would have been a good storm to include the snowmen in the census. We’re just sayin’…. Iris
Iris' new business card, with thanks to Jeff M. who we miss...David’s new books, “Soul Rebel” and “44 Days”, and Passover fast approaching, http://www.Gefiltefishchronicles.com/ (Please call your local PBS station and tell them it will be available Royalty FREE through NETA on March 21, we have been a bit overwhelmed with work, play, and our extraordinary popularity. That being said, I am now going to blob (whine) about my adventure in Arlingtonland.
It’s almost Valentines day and my pal Michael Berman has been hosting a Valentines day lunch for all his girlfriends, for thirty years. The group has increased in number from about 10 to 150. And while it’s not as intimate—nor do we get roaring drunk anymore – it’s always fun. We have been celebrating at the Four Seasons for the past few years, so I don’t have to tell you how wonderful the food is. In addition, Michael always gives us the best party favors (and if you’re lucky you can take the gorgeous flowers—like at a Bar Mitzvah.) This year the gift is a little hanger you use to hang your purse from the table, instead of putting it on the floor. (We are big ‘no bags on the bed’ people because if you put your purse, suitcase, or bag of any type on the floor of the subway, restaurant or theater, and then put it on your bed, God knows what you will be sleeping with. Anyway, these adorable devices prevent scuz from getting on your bag.
But where was I? Oh yes, overwhelmed. So, yesterday I planned to travel home to VA. Where you may recall, we had about two feet of snow. Most of the trains from NY to DC were cancelled and the only available seat was on something AMTRAK reorganized to leave at 2PM. This meant there was no way I could get home before dark. But so what. There was no choice. I wanted to go to Michael’s lunch.
snow piled up on the trash cansThe streets from DC to VA. were plowed and, because the US Government was closed, there was no traffic. Oh joy! I thought, this isn’t going to be a nightmare. But when we reached 19th street and saw it wasn’t plowed, I told the cabbie I would walk the two blocks—yes carrying my stuff on the icy pavement. OK, I only fell once. When I arrived at my house I realized that in order to get in I would have to borrow a shovel and dig my way to the front door. That took two hours (There was a lot of snow). When at last I made it up the step and inside, I was wet and cold, which is probably why I didn’t realize there was no heat. I didn’t realize how cold it was downstairs, until I went up to my bedroom where the heat was working.
this would be the 'path' from house to street, like an English MazeThe heating people promised to send a technician between 12-4. Of course, the lunch was from 12-3. But since I had come back to go to the lunch, I was not about to miss it. And I’m delighted that I didn’t because luckily, the technician came at 4 – which is when I thought I better go buy some food. After three or four supermarket stops where there was no milk, eggs, bread, butter, greens, or any produce, I called Trader Joe’s. “Do you have any food in your store”, I asked. “Well, of course, we’re a grocery,” he said somewhat bewildered. Well so are all the Giants, and Safeways but they don’t have any food. (Nothing. Zip, nada.)
Enough whining. The heat is fixed, I have food and wine, and the plow has come through. All in all it’s been a colorful adventure I don’t need to have again. This really would have been a good storm to include the snowmen in the census. We’re just sayin’…. Iris
Saturday, February 06, 2010
the Master of the Capuccino, and more..
The other day I had a chance to grab a coffee, well, more like a cappuccino, with a guy who makes a pretty good cup himself. In fact, he handled the espresso machine with the same kind of aplomb he did his cameras for the better part of half a century. The coffee was rich, and foamy with that deep swirl of flavor on the top, throwing out that sweet aromatic invitation to taste it. His pictures are pretty much the same way. It's hard to just throw them a cursory glance. They need to be looked at, appreciated. Seen and felt.
John Dominis (former LIFE photographer), New York City, Jan. 26, 2010
Coming of age as I did in the '60s, I was aware of his work even before I knew who he was. In fact, the weekend that I left home to try and make it in the 'big city,' my send-off dinner was my mom's attempt to reconstruct the unreconstructable: a perfect 'steak au poivre,' as seen in the pages of that week's LIFE magazine. Its 'Great Dinners' series made available wonderful dishes not only for the Mad Men of New York, but also Farmers in Iowa and Teachers in Utah. The steak au poivre was that perfect mix of color and texture, and the juicy meat fairly flew off the pages, right onto your plate. Of course, mom's version didn't really live up to the sizzle in LIFE, but it was, at least, a worthy try. It was years later when I discovered that in the pre-Photoshop world of the '60s, the photographer, my host, had to double-expose the pepper onto the meat. Mom was off the hook.
I'd also seen samples of his work from a dozen stories, as varied as a LIFE photographer's world could be, including one of the first sets of pictures of the 'Great Cats of Africa.' It was another time altogether from the world we know today, and so I was all the more pleased to be able to taste a great cappuccino made in the cozy kitchen of John Dominis. I'd known of John for a long time, arriving as I did at the end of the LIFE weekly, but it wasn't until he became the picture editor of People in the '70s that I really got to know him. (Of course there is always a risk when photographers become the picture editors: they know where all those expenses are hidden!) His work at LIFE was as varied as you can imagine, from food to the Olympics (Winter and Summer), and of course, the Great Cats. It was a world where the photographer was king. "When I got to Nairobi, I went out and bought a Toyota Land Cruiser," he told me with a grin worthy of a 15-year-old kid. "I took it to a body shop and had a hole cut in the roof so I could shoot out the top with my long lenses. I never ASKED anyone if I could buy it; I just DID." And even though I know that I will never again live in a world where a photographer can just BUY an SUV for a job without asking a bean counter, just hearing him tell the story made it rich enough to share.
(© 2010 David Burnett / Contact Press Images)
John Dominis (former LIFE photographer), New York City, Jan. 26, 2010
John came by that talent honestly. He, like an amazing half-dozen others – including Mark Kauffman, John Zimmerman, Wally Bennett and Hank Walker – all attended the same high school in Los Angeles before World War II, where a very talented photo teacher helped unleash inordinate amounts of potential talent. In all, some seven grads eventually made it to the ranks of the TIME-LIFE magazines. Amazing.
My rediscovery of John Dominis' work came about by accident a couple of years ago. Wandering through a big book store, I found a copy of the book John did with then writer Dick Stolley (later a LIFE editor) on Frank Sinatra in 1965. There is a fascinating piece of film of a chain-smoking Sinatra recording "Autumn of My Years" in the studio. He does it on one take. That is the same kind of brilliance Dominis brings to his pictures. One take. No need to fake it a second time. He is a photographer.
The book, "Sinatra: An Intimate Portrait of a Very Good Year," would be right up there in my two or three all-time favorite books whose photography, both artistically and by method, are the absolute distillation of what photojournalism should be. John's story of how he spent the first days with Sinatra without even carrying a camera, in an attempt to just become a welcome part of Ol' Blue Eyes' entourage, showed a cunning patience and understanding of how to work with people. Later, when the cameras were in evidence, his eye engaged, the pictures flowed like nectar. This book is, truly, one of the great photographic endeavors for anyone who values the idea of "taking" pictures, and not "making" pictures. The astonishing thing is that John, who worked for LIFE for nearly 30 years, was so adept at doing whatever needed to be done, as were many of his colleagues. There were specialists, yes, but the generalists were the masters of the turf. The switch from leopards in Tanzania, to succulent pepper steaks at the studio, and thence to Sinatra's old trick of pulling a tablecloth off a table, and leaving the plates behind, was seamless and wonderful in all regards.
In an age of specialization, when some photographers only shoot THIS camera with THIS light against THIS background, to become reacquainted with a genius like John is a sublime pleasure. He reminds you that in photography you can pretty much do anything you want to do, if you decide to make it happen (true, a good budget never hurts.) John is now working on a book of pictures done with Steve McQueen (if you are under 40 and don't know who is he is, look him up on Netflix; he was a prize!). His pictures of McQueen, done without any fixers, publicists or handlers, are impossibly fresh and candid. It makes you wonder why today's stars don't take note. Meanwhile, John retains a twinkle in his eye – you know the one; it's the same twinkle that must have charmed Sinatra four decades ago. And when you sip that cappuccino, you once again know you're in the hands of a master.
We're just sayin' … David
John Dominis (former LIFE photographer), New York City, Jan. 26, 2010
Coming of age as I did in the '60s, I was aware of his work even before I knew who he was. In fact, the weekend that I left home to try and make it in the 'big city,' my send-off dinner was my mom's attempt to reconstruct the unreconstructable: a perfect 'steak au poivre,' as seen in the pages of that week's LIFE magazine. Its 'Great Dinners' series made available wonderful dishes not only for the Mad Men of New York, but also Farmers in Iowa and Teachers in Utah. The steak au poivre was that perfect mix of color and texture, and the juicy meat fairly flew off the pages, right onto your plate. Of course, mom's version didn't really live up to the sizzle in LIFE, but it was, at least, a worthy try. It was years later when I discovered that in the pre-Photoshop world of the '60s, the photographer, my host, had to double-expose the pepper onto the meat. Mom was off the hook.
I'd also seen samples of his work from a dozen stories, as varied as a LIFE photographer's world could be, including one of the first sets of pictures of the 'Great Cats of Africa.' It was another time altogether from the world we know today, and so I was all the more pleased to be able to taste a great cappuccino made in the cozy kitchen of John Dominis. I'd known of John for a long time, arriving as I did at the end of the LIFE weekly, but it wasn't until he became the picture editor of People in the '70s that I really got to know him. (Of course there is always a risk when photographers become the picture editors: they know where all those expenses are hidden!) His work at LIFE was as varied as you can imagine, from food to the Olympics (Winter and Summer), and of course, the Great Cats. It was a world where the photographer was king. "When I got to Nairobi, I went out and bought a Toyota Land Cruiser," he told me with a grin worthy of a 15-year-old kid. "I took it to a body shop and had a hole cut in the roof so I could shoot out the top with my long lenses. I never ASKED anyone if I could buy it; I just DID." And even though I know that I will never again live in a world where a photographer can just BUY an SUV for a job without asking a bean counter, just hearing him tell the story made it rich enough to share.
(© 2010 David Burnett / Contact Press Images)
John Dominis (former LIFE photographer), New York City, Jan. 26, 2010
John came by that talent honestly. He, like an amazing half-dozen others – including Mark Kauffman, John Zimmerman, Wally Bennett and Hank Walker – all attended the same high school in Los Angeles before World War II, where a very talented photo teacher helped unleash inordinate amounts of potential talent. In all, some seven grads eventually made it to the ranks of the TIME-LIFE magazines. Amazing.
My rediscovery of John Dominis' work came about by accident a couple of years ago. Wandering through a big book store, I found a copy of the book John did with then writer Dick Stolley (later a LIFE editor) on Frank Sinatra in 1965. There is a fascinating piece of film of a chain-smoking Sinatra recording "Autumn of My Years" in the studio. He does it on one take. That is the same kind of brilliance Dominis brings to his pictures. One take. No need to fake it a second time. He is a photographer.
The book, "Sinatra: An Intimate Portrait of a Very Good Year," would be right up there in my two or three all-time favorite books whose photography, both artistically and by method, are the absolute distillation of what photojournalism should be. John's story of how he spent the first days with Sinatra without even carrying a camera, in an attempt to just become a welcome part of Ol' Blue Eyes' entourage, showed a cunning patience and understanding of how to work with people. Later, when the cameras were in evidence, his eye engaged, the pictures flowed like nectar. This book is, truly, one of the great photographic endeavors for anyone who values the idea of "taking" pictures, and not "making" pictures. The astonishing thing is that John, who worked for LIFE for nearly 30 years, was so adept at doing whatever needed to be done, as were many of his colleagues. There were specialists, yes, but the generalists were the masters of the turf. The switch from leopards in Tanzania, to succulent pepper steaks at the studio, and thence to Sinatra's old trick of pulling a tablecloth off a table, and leaving the plates behind, was seamless and wonderful in all regards.
In an age of specialization, when some photographers only shoot THIS camera with THIS light against THIS background, to become reacquainted with a genius like John is a sublime pleasure. He reminds you that in photography you can pretty much do anything you want to do, if you decide to make it happen (true, a good budget never hurts.) John is now working on a book of pictures done with Steve McQueen (if you are under 40 and don't know who is he is, look him up on Netflix; he was a prize!). His pictures of McQueen, done without any fixers, publicists or handlers, are impossibly fresh and candid. It makes you wonder why today's stars don't take note. Meanwhile, John retains a twinkle in his eye – you know the one; it's the same twinkle that must have charmed Sinatra four decades ago. And when you sip that cappuccino, you once again know you're in the hands of a master.
We're just sayin' … David
Wednesday, February 03, 2010
For Better or For Worse
On the morning of January 30, 2010, Jordan asked me if I had forgotten anything? I didn’t think so. “Well wasn’t yesterday your anniversary?”
“OMG!” I said, (because I’m very today otherwise I would have said Oh my God). And we both started to laugh. I could not believe that, after all these years, I just didn’t remember. Then she called David and said, “Hey Dad, I know something you don’t know.” Children always know something their parents don’t know, so he was not surprised until she said, “Yesterday was your anniversary.” He had the same reaction that I did. He just laughed.
Is this the good news or the bad. After 31 years together, 26 of them as a married couple, forgetting the date that you wed is unexpected. Or as Don Rickles used to say, ‘We’ve been happily married for twenty years, of course we just celebrated our golden anniversary.’ (But he said it funnier) To answer the question, good news or bad, who knows. At least we both forgot, so there were no hard feelings. But you have to ask yourself the question “why”?
Are we so busy that we don’t have time to think about one another? Is the day we got married not worth remembering. Have we been married so long that it has become just another ordinary day. Or, are we so old that we can’t remember anything? I’m not sure that any of these are the reason we forgot. It could be that we are so much in love that everyday is equally important and meaningful. I’m going with the last one.
As with most couples who have been together for years, the people you are were are not necessarily the people who you have become. And when you have been together for a long time (and it’s still terrific) you have to find ways to celebrate that, more than one day a year. Does that make any sense to you?
Whew, that was a little too close to serious for my taste. So, why am I thinking about this? Yesterday we got a “Gefilte Fish Chronicles” www.gefiltefishchronicles.com, order (1 DVD… 1 Cookbook) from Hyman Krantz. Rabbi Krantz officiated at our wedding. He was the first Rabbi at the Boonton Jewish Center, among which my family were founding members. I adored him because he taught us how to sing the Sabbath Service…. Which I can still do. And, even more importantly, because we were not easy kids and unlike so many other Rabbi’s he maintained a wonderful sense of humor about us and himself. Twenty six years ago, when we decided to make the relationship permanent, my mother wanted us to married by a Rabbi. It wasn’t important to me because Rabbi Krantz was the only one I would even consider. And, after 30 years, no one knew where he was living. But leave it to my mother: she found him, flew him to New Jersey, and reintroduced him to my wacky family on, as he said, “this auspicious occasion.”
Of course, once I had the DVD order and their telephone number, I called to say hello. We had a lovely reunion. They sounded exactly the same. In my mind, neither the Rabbi or Roz, his wife, have ever changed. They will always remain young, vital and forever attractive. They said that someone who knew they had lived in Boonton, told them they had seen “The Chronicles.” They wanted a copy so they could share sweet memories and to show at a cousins reunion over next weekend.
Sweet memories. We got married at my parent’s home. My dad was ill and we thought we would have the ceremony in their bedroom. Just immediate family. That was never going to happen. My mother moved all the furniture out of the house and put it on a truck in the driveway. She invited the whole family because there is never just “immediate.” My dad got out of bed, where he had been for two months. Our friends came from all over the country. We had a big cocktail party in New York following a fabulous breakfast buffet in New Jersey. We had a honeymoon suite at the Regency. And as a special wedding gift, had a big fat New York City parking ticket on the car because Matthew, who did us the favor of dropping us at the party, then parked it in a bus zone. We had one day together and David left for Jamaica.
Our life together has never changed. Always surrounded by beloved family and friends. Always independent but attached. And always laughs, no matter what we forget – or remember. We’re just sayin’….Iris
“OMG!” I said, (because I’m very today otherwise I would have said Oh my God). And we both started to laugh. I could not believe that, after all these years, I just didn’t remember. Then she called David and said, “Hey Dad, I know something you don’t know.” Children always know something their parents don’t know, so he was not surprised until she said, “Yesterday was your anniversary.” He had the same reaction that I did. He just laughed.
Is this the good news or the bad. After 31 years together, 26 of them as a married couple, forgetting the date that you wed is unexpected. Or as Don Rickles used to say, ‘We’ve been happily married for twenty years, of course we just celebrated our golden anniversary.’ (But he said it funnier) To answer the question, good news or bad, who knows. At least we both forgot, so there were no hard feelings. But you have to ask yourself the question “why”?
Are we so busy that we don’t have time to think about one another? Is the day we got married not worth remembering. Have we been married so long that it has become just another ordinary day. Or, are we so old that we can’t remember anything? I’m not sure that any of these are the reason we forgot. It could be that we are so much in love that everyday is equally important and meaningful. I’m going with the last one.
As with most couples who have been together for years, the people you are were are not necessarily the people who you have become. And when you have been together for a long time (and it’s still terrific) you have to find ways to celebrate that, more than one day a year. Does that make any sense to you?
Whew, that was a little too close to serious for my taste. So, why am I thinking about this? Yesterday we got a “Gefilte Fish Chronicles” www.gefiltefishchronicles.com, order (1 DVD… 1 Cookbook) from Hyman Krantz. Rabbi Krantz officiated at our wedding. He was the first Rabbi at the Boonton Jewish Center, among which my family were founding members. I adored him because he taught us how to sing the Sabbath Service…. Which I can still do. And, even more importantly, because we were not easy kids and unlike so many other Rabbi’s he maintained a wonderful sense of humor about us and himself. Twenty six years ago, when we decided to make the relationship permanent, my mother wanted us to married by a Rabbi. It wasn’t important to me because Rabbi Krantz was the only one I would even consider. And, after 30 years, no one knew where he was living. But leave it to my mother: she found him, flew him to New Jersey, and reintroduced him to my wacky family on, as he said, “this auspicious occasion.”
Of course, once I had the DVD order and their telephone number, I called to say hello. We had a lovely reunion. They sounded exactly the same. In my mind, neither the Rabbi or Roz, his wife, have ever changed. They will always remain young, vital and forever attractive. They said that someone who knew they had lived in Boonton, told them they had seen “The Chronicles.” They wanted a copy so they could share sweet memories and to show at a cousins reunion over next weekend.
Sweet memories. We got married at my parent’s home. My dad was ill and we thought we would have the ceremony in their bedroom. Just immediate family. That was never going to happen. My mother moved all the furniture out of the house and put it on a truck in the driveway. She invited the whole family because there is never just “immediate.” My dad got out of bed, where he had been for two months. Our friends came from all over the country. We had a big cocktail party in New York following a fabulous breakfast buffet in New Jersey. We had a honeymoon suite at the Regency. And as a special wedding gift, had a big fat New York City parking ticket on the car because Matthew, who did us the favor of dropping us at the party, then parked it in a bus zone. We had one day together and David left for Jamaica.
Our life together has never changed. Always surrounded by beloved family and friends. Always independent but attached. And always laughs, no matter what we forget – or remember. We’re just sayin’….Iris
Friday, January 29, 2010
The Power to Stay
It's a heady place to be.
Unless you have worked on a Presidential campaign, and been close to the Candidate and their spouse, there is no way to explain why Elizabeth Edwards would put up with what we now know is John Edwards' abhorrent behavior. Do not think for one moment that I am making excuses for her, that’s not the case. But when I hear Tina Brown talk about “what does it take to make someone leave their husband. What was she thinking to stay?” my immediate reaction is “lady (Tina, not Elizabeth), you may know a great deal about many things but you haven’t got a clue about Presidential politics.”
What is important to know is that when you are a part of the inner circle, of a Presidential campaign or Administration, you don’t think. That might be a slight exaggeration, because you think about policy issues, political strategy, and logistics, but you don’t second guess the Principal because you believe he or she is extraordinary, and will make a difference in the world — for the better. At least you hope so. And you respect the spouse, regardless of how whacky , because the Principal loves (likes, endures) them.
You work hard and want a victory for them and your self. Andy Young (in his new literary exposé) says “I thought he would take care of me for the rest of my life, and he betrayed me.” That sentence is more telling about what Presidential politics has become, than any campaign job description you can read. Although, I have been involved in nine Presidential campaigns, there was not one candidate who I thought would take care of me. It was my sincere belief that they would take care of the Nation. Oh sure, when you work 24/7 for months and sometimes years, you hope that there is a positive result, but I can’t remember a time that I expected anyone would take care of me.
with John Kerry, 2004There I go, digressing again. This was supposed to be about Elizabeth and understanding, beyond the life long commitment she made to John, her health, and her children, what made her stay with him through all the public humiliation. Running for President is a very ‘heady’ thing. The candidate, spouse, and the inner circle (which can include strategists, pollsters, policy wonks, sometimes advance people), begin to think they are exceptional or at the least that they deserve to be catered to and treated in some special way. They become self important to a degree which cannot be explained as a simple personality disorder. They even print up jackets with their names embroidered on them. Mel Brooks said in the “History of the World Part One”, that “It’s Good to be King”, and that’s how this Presidential cadre begins to feel about themselves and this exhaulted position -- based on nothing but being hired to do a job. In fact, some of the most exhaulted campaign people are seriously talent free – but that’s another blog.
Anyway, regardless of the amount of money you have, being President or even a candidate comes with an unimaginable power. You begin to think that you are entitled to do anything you want to do. And this entitlement often knows no bounds. What’s the old saying, “power corrupts...?” It does and not only the Principal but all the people with whom they are surrounded — especially spouse. When asked about his affair, his two hundred dollar haircuts, private planes etc., Edwards said he did it because he could. Just that simple. And Elizabeth also felt there were a great many “coulds”, and she wanted and enjoyed them almost as much as John -- her vehicle to get them.
2004: with "Senior" staffShe stayed with him through the campaign and because she liked the power. She stayed with him even after he admitted that he had been unfaithful and had a child, because she has terminal cancer and children and where else did she have to go. She stayed with him until she understood there was no more power, glory, and any hope of his redemption. She stayed with him until he was no longer important – and I mean that in the nicest possible way. We're just sayin'...Iris
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Rustic It Shall Be
About a hundred years ago my Aunt Frieda, while discovering all kinds of treasures in antique stores in Dania, Florida (near Ft. Lauderdale) also happened upon a different kind of treasure, The Rustic Inn. The question about how she found this place was never actually answered, because in order to get there you had to drive on Route 1 until you saw Griffin Road and then you had to travel about a quarter of a mile down a dirt road. But like the end of the rainbow, it was well worth the trip.
When we started going there, (and each time we went was yet another adventure), we went for Golden Garlic Florida Crabs. They also have king crab, queen crab, dungeoness and blue crab, but the golden were our favorites. Unlike Maryland crabs, about which you must become an expert with mallet and tong before you can taste a morsel of crab, these crabs are big and meaty. You do have to do a certain amount of pounding, but when you break through, the insides and claws are sweet and juicy.
We have made periodic visits to these hinterlands, which actually happen to be right next to the Ft. Lauderdale International Airport (This means they fly all the way to the Bahamas and maybe other parts of the Caribbean. Oh, and they also fly to the Conch Republic). Nevertheless, since we always stayed in Hallandale, it wasn’t a convenient place to go for a quick bite. But, whenever we were in the Miami area it was worth however long it took to get there.
While yesterday the meal was terrific, (we ordered two golden garlic crabs, one queen, some stone claws, a combo – and a dozen oysters), the most memorable stop was Jordan’s first trip a few years ago. She took to the mallet like a pie crust to butter. I don’t remember a time when I saw David and Jordan have more fun. By the time they had finished lunch not only were they totally covered with crab but the people at the tables next to us, were also crabarized. No one seemed to mind. When you are enjoying some great food, most people will remain good humored about what they eat. In fact people all around us really got into making their crab fly. It’s about as upscale ambience that I ever want to get.
A pack o' goldensWhen I was chatting with my cousins today we were talking about our food preferences. We are genetically peasant stock. So for us a good burger at “Five Guys”, a good slice of pizza, crispy fried ‘real potatoes’, a steak at “Arthur’s” (Hoboken and Morris Plains N.J.) instead of “The Palm” and grilled fish over a nice salad (like at Leftovers in Palm Beach, or Hogfish Grill in Key West are gourmet treats. Sure, I like to get dressed up and spend hundreds of dollars on a precious restaurant (a lie), but I’m just as happy with a movie and a good tuna sandwich. Given my experiences with food around the world and in some pretty heady places (Embassies, palaces etc.) you may think that this makes no sense. It seems to me that you have to measure whatever you eat by the joy you have in preparing it, or the people with whom you share it. It is also true that I, like most of my cousins and my kids, are very clever chefs, so why would you pay for something you can make better cheaper and more conveniently – unless I am feeling lazy.
Food is a personal choice. My mother would say, “that’s what makes the world go around.” This is not necessarily true, there are scientific reasons that the world turns, (don’t tell my mother) but there is nothing more refreshing than trying a variety of foods in many different places with people you enjoy. Maybe that’s what makes the world go around. We’re just sayin’…Iris
Monday, January 18, 2010
She Had a Dream
My mother had a dream too, but hers never had the impact that Dr. King’s had – she doesn’t have the same way with words. Mom’s description of what she dreamt usually starts with “Oye.” It develops from “Oye” to “You wouldn’t believe…” When I insist I will believe, the story goes on. It seems when you get to be 89 your dreams take on a whole different tone than when you are 3 but they can be no less frightening. Zachie (who is 2 1/2) has the ability to dream before he goes to sleep. He wants to be assured that there are no ghosts, no geese, no monsters and there will be daylight when he awakes. Once you have convinced him that no ghosts will haunt him, no geese will chase him, there’s no such things as monsters, and it’s always darkest before the dawn, his sleep seems peaceful, or at least without incident.
But when you are almost three, you do not know with what horrors you will be confronted during your lifetime. And when you are 89, there is only one more difficulty with which you will have to deal — the unknown. Not being nearly three or close to 89, I have no idea about the magnitude of their imaginations. When you are young you usually haven’t survived the loss of friends or family. And although you may still be in diapers, you have not yet suffered the humiliation of loss of bladder control, or the degeneration of bone and ability. At 89 you no longer move without effort or remember without prompting. This is not a terrible thing, it is just a natural progression… so, on this “I have a dream” day, back to Mama Rose.
A few months ago Rosie had a dream that she was with her sisters (6 of them) and her brother – all of whom are gone except her twin. You may recall we send them all to Florida instead of the grave. Anyway, the dream did not frighten her, she seemed perfectly comfortable about the visit. Here’s what happened:
R: “Oye, you wouldn’t believe it but they were all here.”
I: “Who, Ma?”
R: “Who? Who do you think? The President of the United States? I’m sure he would have been here, but he was busy.”
I: “So who, Ma?
R: “Guess.”
I: “I don’t want to guess. Daddy?”
R: “No, not your father. But close. Never mind, you’ll never guess. Your Aunts and Uncle Jack. And Aunt Fritzie and Aunt Helene were wearing paper hats. Not like birthday hats, but made from newspaper. And Aunt Sophie said, ‘Fritzie what are you doing with that stupid hat on your head, it’s not even your color.’ And Aunt Sarah said, ‘so Rosie where have you been?’ And Uncle Jack said, ‘What am I doing in this dream?’ And then Aunt Betty said ‘Don’t fight, Papa will get angry.’ Papa never got angry, so I knew it must be a dream and also Aunt Sophie was right, Aunt Fritzie would never wear a paper hat like that – even if it were her color. They don’t look so healthy but it was good to see them again.”
I: “And then did they go away?”
R: “Well of course, did you think they were going to wait for you to show up?”
I: “Was it like a nightmare Ma?”
R: “What, you think your family is a nightmare?”
I: “Of course not, I just wondered if you were frightened? If you are frightened?”
R: “Because I’m going to die, you mean? Like they were calling me, ‘Rosie please come, Rosie we miss you.’ No, it wasn’t like that. It was nice to see them. And I’m not afraid to die, I’m afraid you’ll bury me here, all the way on the other side of the country.”
I: “That’s not going to happen. You know you’ll be right next to Daddy in that cemetery in 'Gubutska's Yure," where we always have to sit in traffic."
R: “OK, good, then it was just a dream. I just had a dream last night.”
We're just sayin'....Iris
But when you are almost three, you do not know with what horrors you will be confronted during your lifetime. And when you are 89, there is only one more difficulty with which you will have to deal — the unknown. Not being nearly three or close to 89, I have no idea about the magnitude of their imaginations. When you are young you usually haven’t survived the loss of friends or family. And although you may still be in diapers, you have not yet suffered the humiliation of loss of bladder control, or the degeneration of bone and ability. At 89 you no longer move without effort or remember without prompting. This is not a terrible thing, it is just a natural progression… so, on this “I have a dream” day, back to Mama Rose.
A few months ago Rosie had a dream that she was with her sisters (6 of them) and her brother – all of whom are gone except her twin. You may recall we send them all to Florida instead of the grave. Anyway, the dream did not frighten her, she seemed perfectly comfortable about the visit. Here’s what happened:
R: “Oye, you wouldn’t believe it but they were all here.”
I: “Who, Ma?”
R: “Who? Who do you think? The President of the United States? I’m sure he would have been here, but he was busy.”
I: “So who, Ma?
R: “Guess.”
I: “I don’t want to guess. Daddy?”
R: “No, not your father. But close. Never mind, you’ll never guess. Your Aunts and Uncle Jack. And Aunt Fritzie and Aunt Helene were wearing paper hats. Not like birthday hats, but made from newspaper. And Aunt Sophie said, ‘Fritzie what are you doing with that stupid hat on your head, it’s not even your color.’ And Aunt Sarah said, ‘so Rosie where have you been?’ And Uncle Jack said, ‘What am I doing in this dream?’ And then Aunt Betty said ‘Don’t fight, Papa will get angry.’ Papa never got angry, so I knew it must be a dream and also Aunt Sophie was right, Aunt Fritzie would never wear a paper hat like that – even if it were her color. They don’t look so healthy but it was good to see them again.”
I: “And then did they go away?”
R: “Well of course, did you think they were going to wait for you to show up?”
I: “Was it like a nightmare Ma?”
R: “What, you think your family is a nightmare?”
I: “Of course not, I just wondered if you were frightened? If you are frightened?”
R: “Because I’m going to die, you mean? Like they were calling me, ‘Rosie please come, Rosie we miss you.’ No, it wasn’t like that. It was nice to see them. And I’m not afraid to die, I’m afraid you’ll bury me here, all the way on the other side of the country.”
I: “That’s not going to happen. You know you’ll be right next to Daddy in that cemetery in 'Gubutska's Yure," where we always have to sit in traffic."
R: “OK, good, then it was just a dream. I just had a dream last night.”
We're just sayin'....Iris
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Ma' Wah Kee Redux
Have you ever eaten a raisin still on the vine? Don’t lie. There is almost no one I know who has ever even seen them. Yes, they are just dried grapes—but still on the vine? What a treat. And would you have ever expected to be introduced to them in Milwaukee?
It’s a city that continues to surprise me. If it was warmer and on the East Coast, I would consider a move. These tiny morsels of total sweetness – “raisin d’etres!” were presented to us on beautifully constructed silver fruit tray which Joe Kurth, the manager of the Pfister Hotel sent to us as a welcoming gift last Friday.
raisin d'etre
As you know by a previous blog, we love the Pfister. It might be our favorite hotel anywhere in the US – and we have been to lots of hotels. I mean we love Marriott, and most Four Seasons, but in terms of history and elegance, swell photos of previous Wisconsin Governors, good service and gracious personnel, you just don’t get better than the Pfister.
We were back in Milwaukee because David opened another Bob Marley show ( from Soul Rebel) at the VP Gallery, in the historic Hardware District of the city. The gallery is owned by Bill Appleby, who is a guy with a vision and great energy. There were 700 visitors on the first night – Gallery Walk Night. And surely, more to come since it will be showing until April 2010. (You can wait until the Spring to see it).
the eyes of Bob Marley
The weekend was terrific. We were joined by our good friend Tom Herman, who grew up in Milwaukee but lives in Boston. Anyway, on Saturday morning he took us on a tour of his Milwaukee. He knows more about the history of the city than the founding fathers, but they probably didn’t have as much fun as he did. It was hilarious. If you go to David Burnett’s Vimeo page, you can join us for some of those magic moments. (Not posted just yet – stay tuned.)
The day only got better and in the afternoon we were joined by Barbara and Cal Lawton. It was really cold, but we ventured out to a revival of the Milwaukee PBS radio show, “Hotel Milwaukee”. The show was on for eight years then off for eight years, and like “Prairie Home Companion” the script is folksy but the show also provides a venue for new local talented musicians. The event was a fundraiser for an Americorps program called City Year. Pam Percy, the producer did a remarkable job and it was quite successful. After the show ended people stayed to drink and dance but we were famished so we went to one of our favorite local places, Buckley’s – which has great food in an intimate setting. (The desserts, especially the cheese cake were sensational.)
We were so full when we got up this morning that breakfast was out of the question. So we all gathered near the fireplace in the hotel lobby for coffee and, since Barbara and Cal also got a fruit and cheese platter – to munch on that. We just sat around talking about silly stuff and reading the NYTimes (also silly stuff). What a pleasant way to spend the morning. Sorry, Tina, we DID run off with your TIMES puzzle.
Barbara and Tina (pre "TIMES" theft)
After not having breakfast, we were off to the Milwaukee airport (named after General Mitchell – quick, does anyone know who he was, and what he was known for?) where we knew we could ‘recombobulate’ without any stress. What is remarkable about this airport is that even in these times of terrorist threats, when negative over-reaction often takes the place of common sense, this airport still has a sense of humor and treats people like they are welcome customers, dare I say guests, rather than part of a conspiracy. It is an experience to which you look forward, rather than dread. Newark and Detroit could really take a lesson from Milwaukee.
The flight was fine (those Midwest chocolate chip cookies are THE best)
and we looked forward to a quiet night of football (Go Jets!) and the Golden Globes. All in all, we should all have more weekends like this. We’re just sayin’…. Iris
It’s a city that continues to surprise me. If it was warmer and on the East Coast, I would consider a move. These tiny morsels of total sweetness – “raisin d’etres!” were presented to us on beautifully constructed silver fruit tray which Joe Kurth, the manager of the Pfister Hotel sent to us as a welcoming gift last Friday.
raisin d'etreAs you know by a previous blog, we love the Pfister. It might be our favorite hotel anywhere in the US – and we have been to lots of hotels. I mean we love Marriott, and most Four Seasons, but in terms of history and elegance, swell photos of previous Wisconsin Governors, good service and gracious personnel, you just don’t get better than the Pfister.
We were back in Milwaukee because David opened another Bob Marley show ( from Soul Rebel) at the VP Gallery, in the historic Hardware District of the city. The gallery is owned by Bill Appleby, who is a guy with a vision and great energy. There were 700 visitors on the first night – Gallery Walk Night. And surely, more to come since it will be showing until April 2010. (You can wait until the Spring to see it).
the eyes of Bob MarleyThe weekend was terrific. We were joined by our good friend Tom Herman, who grew up in Milwaukee but lives in Boston. Anyway, on Saturday morning he took us on a tour of his Milwaukee. He knows more about the history of the city than the founding fathers, but they probably didn’t have as much fun as he did. It was hilarious. If you go to David Burnett’s Vimeo page, you can join us for some of those magic moments. (Not posted just yet – stay tuned.)
The day only got better and in the afternoon we were joined by Barbara and Cal Lawton. It was really cold, but we ventured out to a revival of the Milwaukee PBS radio show, “Hotel Milwaukee”. The show was on for eight years then off for eight years, and like “Prairie Home Companion” the script is folksy but the show also provides a venue for new local talented musicians. The event was a fundraiser for an Americorps program called City Year. Pam Percy, the producer did a remarkable job and it was quite successful. After the show ended people stayed to drink and dance but we were famished so we went to one of our favorite local places, Buckley’s – which has great food in an intimate setting. (The desserts, especially the cheese cake were sensational.)
We were so full when we got up this morning that breakfast was out of the question. So we all gathered near the fireplace in the hotel lobby for coffee and, since Barbara and Cal also got a fruit and cheese platter – to munch on that. We just sat around talking about silly stuff and reading the NYTimes (also silly stuff). What a pleasant way to spend the morning. Sorry, Tina, we DID run off with your TIMES puzzle.
Barbara and Tina (pre "TIMES" theft)After not having breakfast, we were off to the Milwaukee airport (named after General Mitchell – quick, does anyone know who he was, and what he was known for?) where we knew we could ‘recombobulate’ without any stress. What is remarkable about this airport is that even in these times of terrorist threats, when negative over-reaction often takes the place of common sense, this airport still has a sense of humor and treats people like they are welcome customers, dare I say guests, rather than part of a conspiracy. It is an experience to which you look forward, rather than dread. Newark and Detroit could really take a lesson from Milwaukee.
The flight was fine (those Midwest chocolate chip cookies are THE best)
and we looked forward to a quiet night of football (Go Jets!) and the Golden Globes. All in all, we should all have more weekends like this. We’re just sayin’…. Iris
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Which is Worse?
which is worse--or a new name
There was a chance that I was going to write about a New Year and family and changes, but in the realm of change—I changed my mind. There’s just too much good gossip in the political world, and I’m all about piling on.
Which one of the following do you think is the most appalling? Revelations about Elizabeth Edwards as bitch or an out of touch Majority Leader, Harry Reid, who has said over and over , (well maybe just over), that he has apologized to the President and everyone who was within the sound of his voice. Or how about reports that the newly released Richard Nixon papers confirm his hatred for the media and what he called the “Kennedy culture”. This included nasty comments about Lincoln Center, which he thought was a horrible monstrosity. And modern art in embassies which he considered “incredibly atrocious”.
There is no pressure here but in case you are trying to answer the question, it’s not even close. No, I’m not going to provide you with a definitive answer. My job is to inspire and entertain not to educate, but let’s do a quick analysis— in other words, my take.
Richard Nixon is dead. I know this for a fact, even though he didn’t lie in State in the Capital, and we couldn’t put a stake through his heart to make sure he was gone. There is no new news here. It’s simply a rehashing of everything we already knew. It reminds me of the time Amb. Harriman called me because she wanted advice about how to respond to questions about a “tell all” book about her life. First of all, I was crazy about Pamela Harriman. She was wonderfully generous, hard working and fun to be with, so I didn’t want to hurt her feelings. (Also I had a gorgeous suite in the Residence in Paris whenever I visited—staying in her favor had many rewards.) At the same time, I thought it was important to keep things in perspective. I advised her to say nothing. No comments whatsoever, because whatever she said would make news. Additionally, I knew that there wasn’t going to be much interest in which dead guys she slept with hundreds of years before.
Harry Reid has no personality. He is certainly not my idea of a leader—Majority or otherwise. His voice is without expression or power and his demeanor, merely mush meandering, and I mean that in the nicest possible way. My guess is that Harry simply didn’t know the term “Negro” was no longer PC. My mother doesn’t remember that either – no matter how many times I remind her. It’s not necessarily a racist thing (it can be), it’s an age thing. When Harry was growing up he probably called Black people “Negroes” . He probably didn’t see many people who were different than he, so he is simply unpractised and out of touch. His other statement, “Obama won because he was light skinned” is probably no worse than saying he is handsome, a hunk, and very sexy. But race is still a touchy subject and truthfully even in 2010, one we are still not allowed to touch.
Moving on, to Elizabeth Edwards who behaved badly on the campaign trail—and with regard to campaign political policy in general. The cover of New York Magazine shouts about “The shocking untold you-can’t-make- it-up story of the fall of John Edwards." Huh? I haven’t yet read the new John Heilmann nad Mark Halperin book “Game Change”. There is almost nothing in the excerpt that hasn’t been revealed in some public forum. In fact, when asked why he conducted himself in such a hideous manner, (having the affair with the videographer in front of his wife and staff), he said “Because I could.” Everyone knew that Elizabeth was determined to continue the campaign, regardless of her health or her husband’s behavior. And although she was the wounded party, no one ever accused her of being “nice”. The candidate's wife is never “nice”, It’s just not a First Lady quality. So again, there’s nothing new here, although there is certainly a great deal more of what we already knew. It is salacious and gossipy and amusing, and like any piece of non-fiction with these qualities, worth buying. My question is, since most of the media were aware of all this, were they just waiting until he was nominated to discuss it with the public.
As I said, I’m not going to tell you which I think wins the contest, but what is worth considering is why any discussion, about any of these stories is worth the time it takes to talk about them. We're just sayin'...Iris
There was a chance that I was going to write about a New Year and family and changes, but in the realm of change—I changed my mind. There’s just too much good gossip in the political world, and I’m all about piling on.
Which one of the following do you think is the most appalling? Revelations about Elizabeth Edwards as bitch or an out of touch Majority Leader, Harry Reid, who has said over and over , (well maybe just over), that he has apologized to the President and everyone who was within the sound of his voice. Or how about reports that the newly released Richard Nixon papers confirm his hatred for the media and what he called the “Kennedy culture”. This included nasty comments about Lincoln Center, which he thought was a horrible monstrosity. And modern art in embassies which he considered “incredibly atrocious”.
There is no pressure here but in case you are trying to answer the question, it’s not even close. No, I’m not going to provide you with a definitive answer. My job is to inspire and entertain not to educate, but let’s do a quick analysis— in other words, my take.
Richard Nixon is dead. I know this for a fact, even though he didn’t lie in State in the Capital, and we couldn’t put a stake through his heart to make sure he was gone. There is no new news here. It’s simply a rehashing of everything we already knew. It reminds me of the time Amb. Harriman called me because she wanted advice about how to respond to questions about a “tell all” book about her life. First of all, I was crazy about Pamela Harriman. She was wonderfully generous, hard working and fun to be with, so I didn’t want to hurt her feelings. (Also I had a gorgeous suite in the Residence in Paris whenever I visited—staying in her favor had many rewards.) At the same time, I thought it was important to keep things in perspective. I advised her to say nothing. No comments whatsoever, because whatever she said would make news. Additionally, I knew that there wasn’t going to be much interest in which dead guys she slept with hundreds of years before.
Harry Reid has no personality. He is certainly not my idea of a leader—Majority or otherwise. His voice is without expression or power and his demeanor, merely mush meandering, and I mean that in the nicest possible way. My guess is that Harry simply didn’t know the term “Negro” was no longer PC. My mother doesn’t remember that either – no matter how many times I remind her. It’s not necessarily a racist thing (it can be), it’s an age thing. When Harry was growing up he probably called Black people “Negroes” . He probably didn’t see many people who were different than he, so he is simply unpractised and out of touch. His other statement, “Obama won because he was light skinned” is probably no worse than saying he is handsome, a hunk, and very sexy. But race is still a touchy subject and truthfully even in 2010, one we are still not allowed to touch.
Moving on, to Elizabeth Edwards who behaved badly on the campaign trail—and with regard to campaign political policy in general. The cover of New York Magazine shouts about “The shocking untold you-can’t-make- it-up story of the fall of John Edwards." Huh? I haven’t yet read the new John Heilmann nad Mark Halperin book “Game Change”. There is almost nothing in the excerpt that hasn’t been revealed in some public forum. In fact, when asked why he conducted himself in such a hideous manner, (having the affair with the videographer in front of his wife and staff), he said “Because I could.” Everyone knew that Elizabeth was determined to continue the campaign, regardless of her health or her husband’s behavior. And although she was the wounded party, no one ever accused her of being “nice”. The candidate's wife is never “nice”, It’s just not a First Lady quality. So again, there’s nothing new here, although there is certainly a great deal more of what we already knew. It is salacious and gossipy and amusing, and like any piece of non-fiction with these qualities, worth buying. My question is, since most of the media were aware of all this, were they just waiting until he was nominated to discuss it with the public.
As I said, I’m not going to tell you which I think wins the contest, but what is worth considering is why any discussion, about any of these stories is worth the time it takes to talk about them. We're just sayin'...Iris
Wednesday, January 06, 2010
Which Lang Syne?
On Saturday, when we went to our favorite new Dim Sum restaurant in NY (Marks Duck House remains our favorite in the world), we asked if we might see the dinner menu. We have been searching for a place where we could enjoy a Peking Duck (and why isn’t it called a Beijing duck?) And we thought, since Marks has excellent Dim Sum and an amazing Peking duck, this might be the same with Jing Fong. We tried to figure out who of the 20 male hosts to question (there is a hierarchy of service people in this fine eating establishment). Male hosts wear dark suits, and do things like translate the food on carts and handle the money. Waiters wear yellow jackets and bring you drinks and items from the menu. The women on carts wear something similar but are clearly not as important. We think they might be working on commission – they get something for every dish you buy. We think this because a bewildered father and two grown sons sitting next to us, had no idea what was going on in this vast chaotic place. All they knew was that some woman pushing a cart had insisted they try chicken feet, tripe in some sauce and meat dumplings. I called one of the guys in suits over and remedied that situation. Anyway, the host said, “No,” we couldn’t see the dinner menu. Really? I thought. What could possibly be on the evening menu that couldn’t be shared in the afternoon. The mystery continues. Anyway, it’s a great place as long as you get there by 12:30, don’t mind sharing a table with strangers (we love this), and are fairly aggressive about what you like and don’t like.
Moving on, or back – because I really didn’t share our New Years with you. We were invited (for $75 a person) to have dinner at the Boat House at Central Park with about 40 people, most of whom we did not know. This may sound less than inviting but it was great fun and totally without stress. (Especially after years of preparing a party for about 20). The food was unexpectedly good, (especially after years of cooking for at least 20.) The wine was pretty reasonable, (if not as inexpensive as my house). Even the people we did not know were fun – Thanks to Lulu and Francesca who did the guest list. But the best thing, other than making it to midnight with no trouble (I was still eating my entrée at 11:50), was that there were fireworks on the Central Park Reservoir, a minute after 12am.
The fireworks were not big like July 4th in DC or those on the Hudson in NY. But they were beautiful and elegant, My favorite fireworks are those that either make the sky glitter or look like ice falling from a winter tree. There were plenty of those. And then there were the red ones that look like burning embers and blue that make me think of Hannukah and the gold that shine so bright it hurts your eyes. And there was very little smoke to detract from the dreamlike aura of the light. They went on for about 20 minutes. Long enough to enjoy but not so long they got boring. The whole presentation was magical.
When the time came to sing Auld Lang Syne the traditional Scottish New Years’ ballad, that has never made any sense to me. Here are a few verses, if you figure it out let me know (the funnier, the better):
Should old acquaintance be forgot,
and never brought to mind ?
Should old acquaintance be forgot,
and days of auld lang syne ?
CHORUS:
For auld lang syne, my dear,
for auld lang syne,
we'll take a cup of kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.
And surely you'll buy your pint cup !
and surely I'll buy mine !
And we'll take a cup o' kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.
CHORUS
We two have run about the slopes,
and picked the daisies fine ;
But we've wandered many a weary foot,
since auld lang syne.
Originally, I thought I’d say no to the invitation but as the clock passed midnight, and there was lot’s of singing, kissing, and hugging, and an entire table populated by people wearing lit up fiberoptic deally-boppers, I knew this was the beginning of a remarkable New Year. We’re just sayin’…. Iris
Moving on, or back – because I really didn’t share our New Years with you. We were invited (for $75 a person) to have dinner at the Boat House at Central Park with about 40 people, most of whom we did not know. This may sound less than inviting but it was great fun and totally without stress. (Especially after years of preparing a party for about 20). The food was unexpectedly good, (especially after years of cooking for at least 20.) The wine was pretty reasonable, (if not as inexpensive as my house). Even the people we did not know were fun – Thanks to Lulu and Francesca who did the guest list. But the best thing, other than making it to midnight with no trouble (I was still eating my entrée at 11:50), was that there were fireworks on the Central Park Reservoir, a minute after 12am.
The fireworks were not big like July 4th in DC or those on the Hudson in NY. But they were beautiful and elegant, My favorite fireworks are those that either make the sky glitter or look like ice falling from a winter tree. There were plenty of those. And then there were the red ones that look like burning embers and blue that make me think of Hannukah and the gold that shine so bright it hurts your eyes. And there was very little smoke to detract from the dreamlike aura of the light. They went on for about 20 minutes. Long enough to enjoy but not so long they got boring. The whole presentation was magical.
When the time came to sing Auld Lang Syne the traditional Scottish New Years’ ballad, that has never made any sense to me. Here are a few verses, if you figure it out let me know (the funnier, the better):
Should old acquaintance be forgot,
and never brought to mind ?
Should old acquaintance be forgot,
and days of auld lang syne ?
CHORUS:
For auld lang syne, my dear,
for auld lang syne,
we'll take a cup of kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.
And surely you'll buy your pint cup !
and surely I'll buy mine !
And we'll take a cup o' kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.
CHORUS
We two have run about the slopes,
and picked the daisies fine ;
But we've wandered many a weary foot,
since auld lang syne.
Originally, I thought I’d say no to the invitation but as the clock passed midnight, and there was lot’s of singing, kissing, and hugging, and an entire table populated by people wearing lit up fiberoptic deally-boppers, I knew this was the beginning of a remarkable New Year. We’re just sayin’…. Iris
Monday, January 04, 2010
Another Missed Opportunity
It seems we live in a world of missed opportunity. It was said of Yassir Arafat, that he never missed an opportunity to miss an opportunity, and while he may have been the prince of “miss,” the folks who decide security policy at airports, and the broader struggle to get a grip on terrorism, must be right behind. Ever since the 9/11 attacks over nine years ago, there has been an oscillating sense of what security is. We go from Orange to Red, to Yellow, and there isn’t one American in a hundred who could tell you what the differences are between the different color levels. (Including me.) Yet, as the supposed clamp downs occur, with some regularity, in the ongoing attempts to fight the last threat instead of the next, travelers are treated like dumb beasts, told what to do and how to do it, and essentially given zero encouragement to be part of the solution. In fact, to the contrary, the whole security structure is designed to attempt to intimidate the traveling public, seemingly unmindful of the fact that people whose mission it is to create havoc tend not be actually follow the ridiculous rules for the rest of us. It’s as if the only thing that matters is that the people who actually have some respect for the rule of law are the only ones the rules apply to. The bad guys kind of do their thing, playing by their own skewed set of rules.
There was a time right after 9/11 when the vast majority of the world was sympathetic to what had happened here, and had we had the tiniest sense of smarts, we could have leveraged that good will to our own, and that of the civilized world’s betterment. But the administration went crazy with organizational ideas run amok (to bring all the security agencies under one banner: Homeland Security, where they would be able to continue to not speak to each other), and above all – the absolute greatest missed opportunity in my opinion, to treat each and every passenger like a potential felon. They attempted, and have pretty much succeeded, to cow the traveling public to endure some of the most ridiculous screening procedures ever devised. Not only was the government unable to maintain a long term sense of cooperation and sympathy from other countries, but treating our own citizens as if each was a terrorist in waiting, we managed to fritter away the greatest potential power within the country: the righteous strength of the people at large. We were all supposed to shut our traps, and say “yessir” when subjected to these inefficient searches, and in doing so, we gave up the one thing which really could have made air travel in this country safe again. The ability of the people who had the most to lose – the flying public – to get involved.
There were a few reports in late September 2001, as air travel began to start up again with regularity, of pilots beseeching the passengers on their planes to maintain a certain vigilance, and that if something untoward were to happen, that they, the passengers were in fact the only real line of defense. Who, more than the flying public, wants a plane to arrive without incident? Certainly no one wearing a blue uniform and working for an hourly wage. For those folks it remains a job. Some are, yes, more committed to their task than others, but in the end, every change made by the TSA has been an attempt to keep something which already happened from perhaps occurring again. I’m sure there are a few things which have not been made public, which have helped in the search of stability in the air. But for the most part, the desire of the traveling public to be a part of, a major part of the formula, has been totally squandered. We like to think we are a country of greatness, though a little stroll through the America of Walmart malls might make you reconsider that. We watch Band of Brothers, and Saving Private Ryan, and we appreciate the sacrifice and strength of that Greatest Generation. We know about the troops who endured the battles of Khe Sanh and Hamburger Hill. And now, because the government, neither the Bush Administration nor the Obama Administration, has no faith in that same public, no faith in the people, no faith in what it was that once made this country great, we have to fly on airplanes with no blankets on our laps, no magazines, no ipods, no nothing. They turn off the little maps which show where the plane is. They cut off the movies and the internet. And like meek lambs, having waited innumerable hours for delayed flights, people say the stupidest things like “as long as it’s for our security, I don’t mind the wait.” Yeah, those are really the attitudes of the people who parachuted into Ste. Mere Eglise, and withstood a siege at Khe Sanh. I haven’t had to fly in the last couple of weeks, and am glad of it, because I know that the ridiculous attempts at fighting the last fight are only worse than before.
On a trip to China two years ago, a young man went a little bananas, and I awoke from a mild sleep to see a half dozen passengers restraining him, holding him down and getting him cuffed. They weren’t air marshals. They were just folks. The kind of folks you want to travel with. The kind of folks who take charge. The kind of folks who don’t whine, but just DO. The ones we think of what might have once been the kind of people we called Americans, people who just do the right thing because it’s the right thing.
When you get on a plane, you should be able to look around, find a few like minded folks, and almost without any words exchanged, know that if the shit hits the fan, they are the people you can rely on to try and bring things under control. We have spent so much time and effort delegating responsibility to everyone else, be it school boards, the police, the mall cops, or TSA, that we’ve forgotten how to get involved when something goes wrong. It’s time to get over it. The only that will save air passengers if something goes down are the anger and and righteous action of right-thinking people, not a TSA person in blue, who is now five hundred miles away. It’s not too late for the President to actually address the people, and ask for our help, not just our acquiescence. People are ready to be involved. This is the single greated untapped resource of the last decade. People know that in the end, they have to stand up for themselves. In a world where it has taken twice as long as the whole of World War II just to try and figure out what the 9/11 Memorial should look like, the chances of any rational behaviour by the government is probably too much to hope for. But in the end, my money will be on the beefy guy in row 13 who once played college football, the biker in row 24, and the lawyer who goes to the gym every day in row 18. When push comes to shove that will be the only team we have. Don’t let that power and strength just waste away. Let’s try and take care of ourselves. We’re just sayin’….David
There was a time right after 9/11 when the vast majority of the world was sympathetic to what had happened here, and had we had the tiniest sense of smarts, we could have leveraged that good will to our own, and that of the civilized world’s betterment. But the administration went crazy with organizational ideas run amok (to bring all the security agencies under one banner: Homeland Security, where they would be able to continue to not speak to each other), and above all – the absolute greatest missed opportunity in my opinion, to treat each and every passenger like a potential felon. They attempted, and have pretty much succeeded, to cow the traveling public to endure some of the most ridiculous screening procedures ever devised. Not only was the government unable to maintain a long term sense of cooperation and sympathy from other countries, but treating our own citizens as if each was a terrorist in waiting, we managed to fritter away the greatest potential power within the country: the righteous strength of the people at large. We were all supposed to shut our traps, and say “yessir” when subjected to these inefficient searches, and in doing so, we gave up the one thing which really could have made air travel in this country safe again. The ability of the people who had the most to lose – the flying public – to get involved.
There were a few reports in late September 2001, as air travel began to start up again with regularity, of pilots beseeching the passengers on their planes to maintain a certain vigilance, and that if something untoward were to happen, that they, the passengers were in fact the only real line of defense. Who, more than the flying public, wants a plane to arrive without incident? Certainly no one wearing a blue uniform and working for an hourly wage. For those folks it remains a job. Some are, yes, more committed to their task than others, but in the end, every change made by the TSA has been an attempt to keep something which already happened from perhaps occurring again. I’m sure there are a few things which have not been made public, which have helped in the search of stability in the air. But for the most part, the desire of the traveling public to be a part of, a major part of the formula, has been totally squandered. We like to think we are a country of greatness, though a little stroll through the America of Walmart malls might make you reconsider that. We watch Band of Brothers, and Saving Private Ryan, and we appreciate the sacrifice and strength of that Greatest Generation. We know about the troops who endured the battles of Khe Sanh and Hamburger Hill. And now, because the government, neither the Bush Administration nor the Obama Administration, has no faith in that same public, no faith in the people, no faith in what it was that once made this country great, we have to fly on airplanes with no blankets on our laps, no magazines, no ipods, no nothing. They turn off the little maps which show where the plane is. They cut off the movies and the internet. And like meek lambs, having waited innumerable hours for delayed flights, people say the stupidest things like “as long as it’s for our security, I don’t mind the wait.” Yeah, those are really the attitudes of the people who parachuted into Ste. Mere Eglise, and withstood a siege at Khe Sanh. I haven’t had to fly in the last couple of weeks, and am glad of it, because I know that the ridiculous attempts at fighting the last fight are only worse than before.
On a trip to China two years ago, a young man went a little bananas, and I awoke from a mild sleep to see a half dozen passengers restraining him, holding him down and getting him cuffed. They weren’t air marshals. They were just folks. The kind of folks you want to travel with. The kind of folks who take charge. The kind of folks who don’t whine, but just DO. The ones we think of what might have once been the kind of people we called Americans, people who just do the right thing because it’s the right thing.
When you get on a plane, you should be able to look around, find a few like minded folks, and almost without any words exchanged, know that if the shit hits the fan, they are the people you can rely on to try and bring things under control. We have spent so much time and effort delegating responsibility to everyone else, be it school boards, the police, the mall cops, or TSA, that we’ve forgotten how to get involved when something goes wrong. It’s time to get over it. The only that will save air passengers if something goes down are the anger and and righteous action of right-thinking people, not a TSA person in blue, who is now five hundred miles away. It’s not too late for the President to actually address the people, and ask for our help, not just our acquiescence. People are ready to be involved. This is the single greated untapped resource of the last decade. People know that in the end, they have to stand up for themselves. In a world where it has taken twice as long as the whole of World War II just to try and figure out what the 9/11 Memorial should look like, the chances of any rational behaviour by the government is probably too much to hope for. But in the end, my money will be on the beefy guy in row 13 who once played college football, the biker in row 24, and the lawyer who goes to the gym every day in row 18. When push comes to shove that will be the only team we have. Don’t let that power and strength just waste away. Let’s try and take care of ourselves. We’re just sayin’….David
Sunday, January 03, 2010
As We Enter 2010
Dear Friends,
We have been remiss by not writing as much, or at all for the last few weeks. Our lives have been so chaotic with my attempted change in career, and David’s busy book schedule. Thank God, Bob Marley will never die, at least not in the visual sense.
Anyway, we wanted, as so many of our Christmas card friends do, share what we and our family have accomplished in 2009. We’re not used to doing this so please ‘bare’ with us, (in the revealing sense) while we share what our lives have been over the past year.
As the year began and we finished our mail order lobster, David and I, blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah. And then, Jordan Kai went on the road with “Seussical”, blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah, blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah. We had a new grandchild, Rosie, blah blah blah blah blah blah, blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah. Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah, blah blah blah blah blah blah And our grandson Zachary remains terrific, blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah. Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah very exciting blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah Seth and Joyce, are great living in Plymouth – too far for everyday visits. Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah. Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah. David published another book called “44 Days”. blah blah blah blah blah blah blah. Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah Iris blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah was Associate Producer on “Hurricane” blah blah blah blah blah blah blah. Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah ;blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah And we don’t want to forget. blah blah blah blah blah blah blah Bob Marley blah blah blah blah blah blah blah, blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah, blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah. Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah, blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah
WerejustSayin.blogspot.com sends love and thanks, blah blah blah blah blah blah blah.
We have been remiss by not writing as much, or at all for the last few weeks. Our lives have been so chaotic with my attempted change in career, and David’s busy book schedule. Thank God, Bob Marley will never die, at least not in the visual sense.
Anyway, we wanted, as so many of our Christmas card friends do, share what we and our family have accomplished in 2009. We’re not used to doing this so please ‘bare’ with us, (in the revealing sense) while we share what our lives have been over the past year.
As the year began and we finished our mail order lobster, David and I, blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah. And then, Jordan Kai went on the road with “Seussical”, blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah, blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah. We had a new grandchild, Rosie, blah blah blah blah blah blah, blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah. Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah, blah blah blah blah blah blah And our grandson Zachary remains terrific, blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah. Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah very exciting blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah Seth and Joyce, are great living in Plymouth – too far for everyday visits. Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah. Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah. David published another book called “44 Days”. blah blah blah blah blah blah blah. Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah Iris blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah was Associate Producer on “Hurricane” blah blah blah blah blah blah blah. Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah ;blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah And we don’t want to forget. blah blah blah blah blah blah blah Bob Marley blah blah blah blah blah blah blah, blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah, blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah. Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah, blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah
WerejustSayin.blogspot.com sends love and thanks, blah blah blah blah blah blah blah.
Monday, December 28, 2009
Laps, Laps and More Laps
So much news for this, the end of a most interesting year. Sean Goldman is back with his dad. For whatever the reason, I was terribly disturbed by the whole story. (Some would say I’m terribly disturbed without the help of a story, but that’s not the point). For divorced or separated parents, who do or did not, have full time access to their kids, this whole episode was too much of a reminder of the pain of that absence. Not that all parents who live without their kids are totally denied a relationship (like with Sean – who at this point can barely speak English), but it’s just never easy to explain all the why’s – especially at holiday time.
Today the news was not stop terrorist attack on a Northwest flight from Holland to Detroit. As it turns out the terrorists father called the American Embassy to report that his son was probably a terrorist and at the very least should not be allowed to fly to the United States. He might also have mentioned that the kid had trained in Yemen with Muslim terrorists. Whoever took the phone call either chose to ignore the warning or didn’t take it seriously. What an Idiot, and I mean that in the nicest possible way. There are so many unanswered questions about the whole incident that no matter how many questions are answered, just like a game of ‘Whack a Mole,’ more just keep popping up.
The only good news about this whole story is that the guy attached the explosives and faulty detonator to his groin. If that isn’t poetic justice. He’ll live, but without the balls he thought he had when he determined he would blow up a plane with over 250 people.
That is not the best part of the news. Today, an incredibly stupid businessman, flying on the same flight – same flight number, same route- was taken ill in the air and locked himself in the bathroom. Why the guy didn’t tell them that he was sick, or why the crew didn’t break into the bathroom, are still unanswered questions. But neither happened and so the plane was taken to a secluded part of the airport where they discovered that the guy was sick and there was no need to have taken any of these precautions.
And speaking of incredibly stupid, The Department of Homeland Security has issued new and even more ridiculous rules for flying. For example, passengers can only carry one bag, they won’t be able to get out of their seats for the last hour of the flight and they will not be allowed to have anything on their laps for that hour. I’d like someone to explain to me how any of those rules will help to deter a terrorist. Especially since they are all a reaction to the terrorist whose father called to say don’t let him on an American airliner and some Homeland Security person screwed it up.
Everyone who has ever been involved in security (ah my hidden past), knows that making rules in reaction to a single incident is not going to prevent a different incident from occurring. No one involved in airport security is thinking about what works and what doesn’t work. How many people do you know, terrorist or otherwise who would strap an incendiary device to their “pupik” (it’s Yiddish but you get the picture). Why in the world would you forbid people to have something on their lap for an hour (unless there’s a delay and it’s more), because some idiot had explosives in his lap.
What the rules do is make the flight attendants into security officers – as if they didn’t have enough to do. The constant rewriting of rules is an inconvenience for everyone flying , that will not have an impact on any security. Business travelers who work on the plane, photographers who have cameras they don’t want stolen, and parents who are traveling with children, would like to fly, but Homeland Security, which needs a good dose of my mother’s common sense, is making it increasingly difficult, If there is an alternative to flying, people will eventually opt for that. And then what happens to the airline business? What a shame that the very people who are supposed to keep us safe, have become the enemy at the airport. How can we have any respect for a system that body searches old ladies, but ignores the warning of a parent who knows his kid is a real danger to the public. As my mother would say, “smart, smart, stupid.” We’re just sayin’…. Iris
Today the news was not stop terrorist attack on a Northwest flight from Holland to Detroit. As it turns out the terrorists father called the American Embassy to report that his son was probably a terrorist and at the very least should not be allowed to fly to the United States. He might also have mentioned that the kid had trained in Yemen with Muslim terrorists. Whoever took the phone call either chose to ignore the warning or didn’t take it seriously. What an Idiot, and I mean that in the nicest possible way. There are so many unanswered questions about the whole incident that no matter how many questions are answered, just like a game of ‘Whack a Mole,’ more just keep popping up.
The only good news about this whole story is that the guy attached the explosives and faulty detonator to his groin. If that isn’t poetic justice. He’ll live, but without the balls he thought he had when he determined he would blow up a plane with over 250 people.
That is not the best part of the news. Today, an incredibly stupid businessman, flying on the same flight – same flight number, same route- was taken ill in the air and locked himself in the bathroom. Why the guy didn’t tell them that he was sick, or why the crew didn’t break into the bathroom, are still unanswered questions. But neither happened and so the plane was taken to a secluded part of the airport where they discovered that the guy was sick and there was no need to have taken any of these precautions.
And speaking of incredibly stupid, The Department of Homeland Security has issued new and even more ridiculous rules for flying. For example, passengers can only carry one bag, they won’t be able to get out of their seats for the last hour of the flight and they will not be allowed to have anything on their laps for that hour. I’d like someone to explain to me how any of those rules will help to deter a terrorist. Especially since they are all a reaction to the terrorist whose father called to say don’t let him on an American airliner and some Homeland Security person screwed it up.
Everyone who has ever been involved in security (ah my hidden past), knows that making rules in reaction to a single incident is not going to prevent a different incident from occurring. No one involved in airport security is thinking about what works and what doesn’t work. How many people do you know, terrorist or otherwise who would strap an incendiary device to their “pupik” (it’s Yiddish but you get the picture). Why in the world would you forbid people to have something on their lap for an hour (unless there’s a delay and it’s more), because some idiot had explosives in his lap.
What the rules do is make the flight attendants into security officers – as if they didn’t have enough to do. The constant rewriting of rules is an inconvenience for everyone flying , that will not have an impact on any security. Business travelers who work on the plane, photographers who have cameras they don’t want stolen, and parents who are traveling with children, would like to fly, but Homeland Security, which needs a good dose of my mother’s common sense, is making it increasingly difficult, If there is an alternative to flying, people will eventually opt for that. And then what happens to the airline business? What a shame that the very people who are supposed to keep us safe, have become the enemy at the airport. How can we have any respect for a system that body searches old ladies, but ignores the warning of a parent who knows his kid is a real danger to the public. As my mother would say, “smart, smart, stupid.” We’re just sayin’…. Iris
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