The Other Side of the Ocean

Wednesday, March 31, 2004

Liking the news again 

Missing UW student found, minimum wage bill passes in Madison (one of just a handful of cities in the country now with a minimum wage that’s higher than the federal level), can we please just continue with the roll of good news?
posted by nina, 3/31/2004 02:57:53 PM | link

Spring Update 




The weather leaves much to be desired, BUT the white campanula is really shooting up, and the geranium is forming a thick mat. The veronica leaves are also quite large, and the dianthus is getting ready for the rabbit assault (their favorite).
posted by nina, 3/31/2004 09:48:48 AM | link

The scientific revolution 

A finding that is worth sitting up for: according to a UC San Diego study (published in Psychological Science), people pick pure-bread dogs that resemble them. I don’t really go for knocking studies that affirm the obvious. I’m surrounded by social scientists and have come to appreciate that there’s a big step from positing an “obvious” conclusion at a cocktail party (do people still go to cocktail parties?) to documenting it and drawing wider implications from it.

Still, this one seems so very basic that it, at the very least, does not deserve to be included in CNN.com’s top stories (here) for the morning.

On the other hand, it made ME click and read, just in case there was something to be learned from my own choice of an American Water Spaniel for a pet. The terribly frustrating thing about the cited study is that it seems not to specify (at least in the CNN synopsis of it) the criteria used for matching owners with their pets. It appears that different judges used different criteria, which, to me, is perhaps the most revealing aspect of the study: that you can use different criteria and arrive at the same place (similarly, when we admit students to law school, we use our own individually crafted set of markers, yet we wind up choosing pretty much the same students).

In dog selection, the conclusions presented are rather basic: Frenchies for trendy people, collies for gregarious folks.

They don’t say anything about American Water Spaniels, and I don’t think it would have application to my “selection process” anyway. I picked this particular dog because I was riding the bus from the Milwaukee airport and noticed this peculiar sight: a gorgeous, rather large animal, making his way up to the lap of its owner. I asked if he was feeling stressed after the plane ride. The owner said no, not especially, he just sort of fancied himself as lap dog – all 45 pounds of him. Ollie, our rather shy animal and offspring of this dog has the same (must therefore be genetic?) habit. If you sit down, he’ll make every effort to get into your lap. Yet his appearance is such that you’d think he’d be the perfect hunting companion to Dick Cheney. An incongruous mixture of traits. Does this say something about my predisposition?

[Btw, the American Water Spaniel also happens to be the state dog of Wisconsin, though absolutely NO ONE living here knows this, so I doubt it would steer a selection process.]
posted by nina, 3/31/2004 08:52:59 AM | link

Tuesday, March 30, 2004

Students are so helpful 

A few weeks ago, I wrote here that a concerned, well-meaning student come up after class to tell me that calling something a “slam dunker” violated every athletic principle known to man, woman, or child. Gratefully, I made a note that henceforth it shall be simply a “slam dunk.”

A reader then informed me that he had problems with my blog because I alluded there to being dense about slam dunks due to my limited knowledge of the baseball field. He told me that it is not the habit for athletes to achieve slam dunks in baseball.

Today, the same concerned “slam dunk” student told me that I might expand my sports education even further: rather than mentioning the “hometown” advantage of filing a court petition where you reside, I might try incorporating such terms as “homecourt” or “homefield,” even though he assured me that the athletes in the class would be comfortable if I decided to stay with “hometowning.”

Oh, I think I can spot a set-up here: I’ll bravely throw out “homecourt” next time, and mention playing tennis, even though I should be back in basketball land. And what’s “homefield?” Is that baseball or have we now switched to football? Or maybe it’s hockey? So many mistakes to be made with using this terminology… so many…
posted by nina, 3/30/2004 04:42:39 PM | link

Good will and cheer 

This is one of those days where I had reason to cross the mile-long State Street that links our campus with the State Capitol (and the court buildings). I was going to attend a law firm baby shower for a former student, an event that brought forth great feelings of nostalgia as no fewer than three of the firm’s six attorneys are former students of mine, and I’ve worked on family law cases in the past with all but one of the partners.
Half way up State Street it struck me that my baby gift would benefit greatly from a little rubber duckie stuck to the outside and so I went into a soap store (the Soap Opera, pictured here) to purchase one. This is the way Madison works: one favor leads to another and before you know it you’re all over-favoring each other until there are no more favors to bestow. I paid $1.50 for my duckie; the sales clerk loved the duckie-on-top-of-box idea and offered to add ribbon for effect (the store has always been keen on elaborate ribbonning of gifts); of course that meant that I had time to browse and pick up a number of astronomically expensive soaps –gift ideas for imminent occasions requiring little things of this nature; it was determined then that I was also deserving of many free samples, including one that I thought would actually best be purchased, in large quantities.

A cynic may comment that I was a sitting duckie myself: a target for salesclerk largess that would inevitably lead me to deplete my bank account in that store. But that cynic would be wrong. True, I left with a beautifully ribbonned-duckie-adorned box plus many other items, with the final bill reaching outrageously high levels if you think of it as a duckie bill, but on the other hand, the bill was not so high if you think of all the stored-up presents, the good will, the exchange of kind words of praise and admiration and promises of life-long friendship.
posted by nina, 3/30/2004 03:40:54 PM | link

Division of assets 

Pausing in my review of notes for today’s Family Law class, I take a quick look at CNN.com (to make sure the world hasn’t yet destroyed itself; as Friedman of the NYT wrote yesterday, one has such low expectations of news stories these days), where I find an article about another couple’s relationship woes (story here).

Demba and Chaka (Demba’s the female) seem not in the mood for procreation. After five years of inhabiting the same space, they seem hardly to have glanced at each other and Philadelphia zookeepers now believe that they may have never even had a sexual encounter (this in spite of the fact that Chaka is one fertile guy, having fathered many babies in his previous surroundings).

She gets to keep the house (she’ll stay in their ‘home’), but he gets to move in (at another zoo) with a couple of promising females. Her biological clock has ticked away, while he can just keep going and going. Have we really evolved from ape-dom all that much?

[CNN photo is of Chaka--beloved by females, though not by Demba. I'm with Demba on this one]
posted by nina, 3/30/2004 06:50:59 AM | link

Star gazing 

A friend-reader reminded me that I should be looking at the sky at dusk because it will be many decades before I will be able to see again the line up of five planets without the aid of a telescope. I have only until the end of the month to do this.

Wanting to spread the wealth, let me post the map of planets so that you, too, can tell your children and grandchildren that you were fortunate enough to have read a webblog in 2004 that showed you what to look for:

posted by nina, 3/30/2004 12:18:35 AM | link

Monday, March 29, 2004

You are so wrong, pal! 

A Polish friend (referencing posts from earlier this month) wrote to ask if indeed Madison’s Odana Road, or for that matter, the Humanities Building on the U of Wisconsin campus can even compare with the pukey-pea-green square of concrete that houses Poland’s Supreme Court, or the Linguistics Department of Warsaw University? The suggestion is that those two structures require more immediate intervention (a date with the bulldozer comes to mind) than do our own urban crown jewels of hideosity.

No, no, you are wrong. Compare, please:


The Polish Supreme Court (Warsaw Uprising Monument stands in front)

U of Warsaw Department of Applied Linguistics

Humanities Building at the U of Wisconsin







No brainer, right? I don't even need to bother with Odana Road. Everyone knows about the singular ugliness of Odana Road.
posted by nina, 3/29/2004 03:29:32 PM | link

Spring Update 

They say chance of snow by mid-week, but it can hardly matter. The honeysuckle has sprouted big leaves, the bleeding heart bushes are at least 4 inches tall already. The forty million double bloom tulips I have scattered in forgotten places are never going to be as multifarious as their cousins in Holland, but they, too, are up and running (I plant early varieties just to get this early burst of pleasure) and the evening primrose has multiplied beautifully. So far so good…
posted by nina, 3/29/2004 11:11:18 AM | link

China’s response to bad driving: shrug your shoulders and look to the gods 

Earlier (last month?) I had blogged about the inherent dangers in crossing a street in China (to say nothing of navigating it by car). The seeming lawlessness of drivers, the diverse nature of motorized and pedaled vehicles, the crowds, the trucks and carts tilting with heaped, unbalanced cargo –all this produces a state of anarchy and chaos and a feeling of complete panic for anyone who finds herself in the middle of it.

Perhaps, then, I should not have been surprised that somewhere on a rural road in China a traffic death occurred (read about it here) when a wealthy woman, Su Xiuwen, ran over a peasant woman last October. The Times describes the incident thus: “Mrs. Su was driving her BMW when a farmer transporting his onion cart to market bumped the luxury sedan. Mrs. Su became enraged, hit the farmer, then revved her car and plunged into the crowd. The farmer's wife, Liu Zhongxia, was killed.”

The case sparked great controversy precisely because Mrs. Su was both wealthy and well connected (it’s commonly referred to as the BMW case). When the local judge ruled that the death was a traffic accident based on negligence and gave Mrs. Su a two-year suspended sentence, the public reacted instantly by alleging corruption and bribery. In an unprecedented move to quell these rumors, a special judicial panel was called to review the lower court ruling.

Today the panel came down with a verdict. It upheld the lower court’s finding of no corruption and stated that Mrs. Su did not intend to kill Mrs. Liu: she was simply a bad driver.

It is, possibly, the correct result. After all, this could have been an instance of reverse prejudice: her wealth lead people to think that of course it couldn’t have been JUST an accident (in the same way that people have speculated whether Laura Bush’s youthful driving ‘mishap,’ also resulting in a traffic death, was treated differently because of her family’s prominence in the community).

To me, what was notable in the case was the court’s tolerance for “bad driving,” as it indeed seems to excuse virtually anything that can occur on the road (short of intentional homicide through use of a vehicle). Couldn’t you say that every instance of crazy disregard for road rules is simply “bad driving?” The whole nation suffers from a case of bad driving. Perhaps the reaction of “wadda ya gonna do about it..” is not a good way to get the country to focus on road safety.
posted by nina, 3/29/2004 09:05:55 AM | link

Local news 

I often complain that our local paper has no inherent value to it. In fact, I don’t only complain, I ACT (I cancelled a subscription to the Wisconsin State Journal some time ago). I think my friends believe that I sometimes overreact to things, because some have been faithfully keeping me informed of what I have been missing.

For instance, tonight, a reader sent me the following clipping from out local paper (it is, bizarrely, about Kenya):

"After 10 years, he gets a bath.

A Kenyan villager who had not bathed in 10 years was stripped and scrubbed clean by neighbors sickened by the stench, local media reported on Saturday.
Four neighbors swooped on the 52-year-old-man in rural western Kenya, tying him up with a rope before washing him in public, the daily Kenya Times said.
It took four hours to clean the man, whose body was also scoured with sand to remove a thick layer of filth.
The man, a bachelor, has promised to wash once a day, and now hopes to find a wife, the newspaper said."

It is quite possible that absolutely no hint was intended with the transmission of the article. On the other hand, I saw the person who sent me this on Saturday, and she may be reacting to our particular encounter, though I don’t think so. Under normal circumstances, I may postpone a shower until after going to the gym (or for a run, or for another form of exercise), but on that particular Saturday, I distinctly remember showering very early in the morning, in anticipation of a very long day with many people-encounters.
posted by nina, 3/29/2004 12:06:41 AM | link

Sunday, March 28, 2004

How is it possible to eat four entire chickens at one sitting? 


Gerard Depardieu the French actor-turned-restaurateur can do it (see photo). In the Times article (here) about his new Paris restaurant, Depardieu is described as a foodie and a gourmand (not the same thing! The former – loves to eat well, paying attention to latest trends in the preparation of food; the latter—loves to explore all aspects of food).

Of course, celebrity-owned eating places are rather suspect. A true foodie would probably want to avoid some of these: Aykroyd’s funky House of Blues on Sunset Strip, Arnold Schwarzenegger’s Schazi on Main in Santa Monica, Steven Spielberg’s former place, Dive!, Kevin Costner’s Clubhouse, Peter Fonda’s Thunder Roadhouse, and Jennifer Lopez’s new Madre's in Pasadena. Why? Because none of our film stars get their elbows dirty. I don’t think Scharzenegger or Lopez ever go back into the kitchen to check on the food prepping or plating.

By contrast, the NYT writes about Depardieu thus:

He is a formidable cook who will whip up a whole roast pig for a casual lunch. He is a respected vintner who owns more than a dozen vineyards around the world and personally oversees the harvest and production at several. He wanders through foreign markets discovering local specialties, many of which he smuggles into France. He meanders freely into restaurant kitchens, eats whatever is stewing on the stove and peppers the chefs with questions: why are they cooking so-and-so, where does it come from and why are they making it that way?
Gourmands aren’t in it for the money. They’re in it for the food.
posted by nina, 3/28/2004 07:49:43 PM | link

Our president is energetic, caring and community-focused  

I am thinking, of course, of the president-elect of the Wisconsin State Bar (interview with her here), Michelle Behnke. A young Madison-based solo-practitioner, Michelle is one of those energetic people you can’t stand having around because they always manage to do more than you. I remember writing her an email once asking questions about a non-profit that I was thinking of setting up. She responded with a long, encouraging outline of some possible steps for me to consider. Free guidance –so rare in our profession.

She has chosen diversity and pro bono work as the two themes for her term in office (Michelle is the first woman of color to be elected president and she fully intends to generate a discussion about race and ethnic issues in the State Bar). Her comments about pro bono work are well taken: people outside the Bar forget that civil cases do not entitle a party to free legal counsel. In my years of working with parents in abuse and neglect cases it was difficult to understand how parents could be forced to go to court for hearings concerning the removal of their children and not have access to legal counsel, yet that is the legal reality in Wisconsin (a legacy of the Tommy Thompson years).

Good leaders can be hard to come by. It’s nice to feel enthusiastic about the presidential office again.
posted by nina, 3/28/2004 04:54:05 PM | link

Spring Update 


The grass outside is magnificently green and the helleborus orientalis is blooming its big puffy white-pink-green blooms! The rabbits are also proliferating, which is not good. They eat a good part of my crop of perennials each year. For me, the only half-way effective measure is to put cotton balls soaked in 100% fox urine near the plants that I want to protect, but it is a disgusting strategy. Ah well, it’s that or waking up the each morning to a new batch of stems with missing flower heads.
posted by nina, 3/28/2004 03:21:59 PM | link

A salty conversation with Blix 

The NYTimes Magazine’s interview with the former UN inspector Hans Blix comes at a bad moment for Bush given the current Clarke controversy. I know most of my readers do glance at the Magazine themselves, but if you bypassed this, at least read these snippets:
[context: Blix, once in agreement with the administration about weapons, reversed himself when inspections of the best possible sites revealed nothing; the interviewer commented at the end that Blix’ conversational style was ‘salty’—by which I suppose she meant that Blix seemed spicy rather than bland.]

Q: You never met [Saddam Hussein]?
A: He considered it far below his dignity to meet any sort of lowly creatures like international inspectors.

Q: Can one say the same of certain leaders in democratic countries? Wasn’t Vice President Cheney equally dismissive of you?
A: The Pentagon and Cheney have been very negative toward inspections. Cheney said inspections are useless at best.

Q: …you met with the president in the Oval Office?
A: It didn’t look very oval to me at the time, but I didn’t pay much attention. It was Colin Powell, Cheney and Bush and others—and a note taker! [He had earlier stated that no note takers were offered to the inspectors] They had one on their side and we had none on ours!

Q: Couldn’t you just have jotted down a few notes on the pad?
A: It’s not the decorum when you meet the president. You have to concentrate on the conversation.

Q: What was Bush like?
A: He was agile, moving, moving in the chair, especially compared to Cheney.

Q: Who, I suppose, seems more wooden.
A: Yes, the rumors that Cheney is alive are somewhat exaggerated. It’s Mark Twain in reverse.
[referring to Twain’s comment that the rumors of his death were greatly exaggerated.]
…..
Q: What do you think of John Kerry?
A: I welcome his attitude toward multilateral cooperation. I think he is trying to get back to the traditional US attitudes.

Q: What do you make of the presidential race?
A: I think maybe we foreigners should have the right to vote in your next election, since we are so dependent on you.

Good point.
posted by nina, 3/28/2004 07:48:42 AM | link

Saturday, March 27, 2004

Madison is a one-movie-kinda-town 

(don’t bother with this post if you aren’t interested in Eternal Sunshine)

A number of UW Madison bloggers whose blogs I track (here, here, here and again here) saw Eternal Sunshine this week. Obviously this is a small town and everyone sees only one movie each week and it is the same movie, because, indeed, I saw it as well.

It’s easy to get yourself thinking that this is a story about real emotions, as experienced by you and me. It’s a movie that casts shadows of human traits onto the audience, so that you find yourself embracing the reluctant, shy, introvert Joel, and applauding the tenacity and spunk of the wild and zestful Clementine.

You could say, however, that Joel and Clementine are not at all different: they are both Very Needy People. Sure, the film makes Clementine out to be generous and kind, bestowing her affect on a guy who knows not how to “live.” She is the rescuer, the golden light of dawn for him.

But why do we buy into this characterization? Could it be that Clementine is quite the opposite: a brazen woman who needs attention, picking on men who are likely to be attracted to her display of charisma? And Joel, her male friend: mightn’t he be a drifter, refusing to take emotional responsibility for any of the women (what ever happened to his poor left-behind Naomi)? It’s interesting how this quiet, staid guy has a bit of anger within him. Certainly Clementine does as well. They each have a past, only at these early stages of their relationship (and we are always viewing it as it is just beginning) it remains underground. The cynics wont be leaving the theater thinking “whew, they worked out their problems, what a relief.” They’ll say –“I give them at best 4 months until they split up again since both display the emotional maturity of adolescents.”

It’s a good movie, no doubt about it – the directing and editing alone make it a stunning film: there is a scene where Joel is once again young, but really not, but really yes, young, and Clem is in the kitchen with him: the shift from little boy to grown man to Clem to Joel again is nothing short of brilliant.

As for the “message?” Oh, obvious, is it? Given that it was directed by Gondry, one could run with the idea that perhaps love is so primordial that it will resurrect itself, arising from the chemistry between people: it’s nature, not nurture, it’s a match or its not. What brought you together last year will bring you together again ten years from now, not for sentimental reasons at all, but because there is something between the two of you that causes canons to roar.
posted by nina, 3/27/2004 11:30:01 PM | link

NPR Notes 

Q: On what grounds might German violinists (from the Beethoven Orchestra—this is a hint of sorts; think: many complicated measures) sue for a pay raise?

A: The action can be based on the claim that they play more notes per concert than their musical colleagues.

Rebuttal: Orchestra officials have responded that “the violinists knew this when they began taking violin lessons -- and if they wanted to play fewer notes, they should have chosen a different instrument.”
posted by nina, 3/27/2004 09:34:44 PM | link

the brain: no repetition, constant recreation 

I read the NYT article (here) on Dr. Edelman’s work on the brain twice, because I wasn’t sure I was picking up the pieces in a coherent way. I can’t begin to summarize it in the usual 2-sentenced oversimplification that I do here—I’m sure to get it wrong.

But if you are just looking for the punch line (in the way that you would summarize the holding in a legal case for an exam outline) then you can go from title of the article: “The Brain? It’s a Jungle in There,” to the last 2 lines: “But this vision [referring here to the idea that human consciousness is born out of accident and diversity] can also spur discomfort, because it implies that there is no supervising soul or self — nobody is standing behind the curtain. This, for Dr. Edelman, is Darwin's final burden.” That pretty much puts you right into the heart of the matter (forgive the organ-hopping here).

Thus we are stuck without a soul, only new and intricate mappings, one after another, millions of them, setting the course of thought and action. No conductor in there, no inside little guy pushing buttons, selecting, or optimizing. It’s a comfort really – no one to blame for excesses (such as blogging or emailing) – somewhere along the line those patterns became entrenched and there is no one inside to reset the brain and start all over again.
posted by nina, 3/27/2004 01:08:50 PM | link

Time 

Yesterday I had a chance to spend time with a visiting professor – someone whom I hadn’t seen since graduate school in the 70s. This man had single-handedly saved my plummeting confidence in academia. I eventually did leave academia for a while, but it was then a deliberate rather than desperate move.

The prof is now retired and he splits his time between Paris and SF (not a bad lineup of cities I must admit). That is fitting for a person who in my mind is sort of a poetic hero, infused with the worship one reserves for the leaders in one’s life (he doesn’t know that I feel this way about him).

People who save us from the worst aspects of ourselves are indeed heroes. But over time, they disappear and new heroes come to replace them. What a luxury it was to meet again, 28 years later. I never could quite say thank you in the way that I wanted to. Though as I listened to his little impromptu jazz piano playing later in the evening, I thought it didn’t matter. He probably wouldn’t have understood anyway. People of that type are often so personally modest that they do not have a sense of their own force vis-à-vis others.

[a photo of said prof, playing jazz---->]
posted by nina, 3/27/2004 10:39:16 AM | link

Poland at the cusp of something, but what? 

Almost my entire political self is focused on my homeland today. With news of the resignation of the Prime Minister, Leszek Miller (I was right! You can’t fall below 0% approval ratings! He slipped from 10% to 5% in two days! The man HAD to step down), I now see this tense month of waiting while the entire nation focuses on the opening of the EU gates on May1st. Yet, I wonder, are these gates of heaven or gates of hell? For most Poles, the benefits of being in the EU are far away (read about it in the NYT today here)—possibly to be realized by the next generation of Poles; it’s a theoretical gift to the children, not to anyone currently living on the edge.

And there is the matter of the United States: it pains me to see this – it’s like a relationship where one person has all the love and the other has all the power. Poland is the most “in love with America” country I have ever seen. The support for military action in Iraq is a good example of this: most Poles are currently opposed to Polish military presence in Iraq (or at least have grave doubts about its wisdom; President Kwasniewski has publicly stated that he feels Poland was mislead about WMD and about the urgency of waging war to combat terrorism). Yet there is no protest (contrast Poland with Spain, where a government was toppled, to some degree because of Iraq). Poles just go along with the inevitability of this, because America has placed this demand for loyalty and they feel themselves obliged to deliver.

In return? The blasted object of affection wont even give them a small gift, one that Poles have been meekly requesting for years: the right to travel to the US without a visa. So many of my friends refuse to come here for a visit because of the INDIGNITY of having to wait in huge lines, filling out countless forms, waiting for the magic “yes” or “no” before they can board the plane. For the many who have relatives in the States, the humiliation has to be put aside. For those who would travel just for the sake of travel, it is not worth it.

My wonderful, brutally hardened yet resilient Poland. How much suffering can one country endure in a period of 200 years?
posted by nina, 3/27/2004 09:43:23 AM | link

Friday, March 26, 2004

A threesome 

A reader (who obviously cares deeply about my well being, but knows little about how light a sleeper I am) forwarded me an article about a strange occurrence in Oklahoma. A couple woke up yesterday morning to find a burglar sleeping in bed with them (see story here). The man had broken down their door and robbed them of their cell phone and loose cash before snuggling in besides them.

I think my friend is protectively suggesting that I lock my doors carefully each night, but she needn’t worry. This incident could NEVER happen to me. I wake up when the neighbor down the block sneezes. I wake up when the clock passes the hour (I think it’s a tad noisier as the minute hand circumvents the 12). I wake up for any and every reason. Alright, a bit of an exaggeration there, but I would absolutely most certainly wake up if a foul-smelling drunkard pocketed my cell phone and fell asleep next to me.
posted by nina, 3/26/2004 04:47:24 PM | link

Continuing on the theme of Spring 

Not finding enough happy people around me to exchange spring-related jokes and comments, I googled the words that describe my mood at the moment: “spring madness.”

The predominant listing is for the 1938 movie by that title. Here’s how it is described:

Category: Comedy
Director: S.Sylvan Simon
Cast: Lew Ayre, Burgess Meredith, Maureen O’Sullivan
Running time: 1 hr 20 mins
Summary: A coed’s love for a Harvard editor is threatened when she learns that he and his friends are planning a trip to Russia.

One could really take to task this laconic summary on any number of grounds. I’ll only say this: it recalls the time when it was an anathema for most Americans to call the Soviet Union by its name. Russia, then as now, was only one region. Possibly, the Harvard editor was indeed traveling only to Russia. Few ventured beyond Moscow in those days. But why do I think the choice of the R word was not for reasons of geographical precision, but because the writer and movie itself do not understand the distinction between the SU and R? Or that they did not like that the pre-Revolution Russia became the post-Revolution Soviet Union?

My fears on this are confirmed when I read yet another reviewer’s lovely choice of words (I’m avoiding commenting here on the plot line; this is, after all, a 1938 movie):
This comedy implies that the far-flung plan of a college student to visit Communist Russia has little chance when women conspire to restrain him with the lures of marriage and a good job.

All my childhood days I would hear Americans speak of Russia, the country, as if their souls would turn commie red if they even said the word “Soviet.”

But today, I am unruffled. Spring madness is more than just the movie. BTW, elsewhere on Google, the movie gets a rating of two stars (I can’t say out of how many, but two sounds pretty low under any rating scheme).
posted by nina, 3/26/2004 01:58:27 PM | link

I’m not the only one enlivened by the sudden appearance of Spring 

A friend who lives in Arizona is equally transfixed. Remarkably, her moment of magic also struck within the last 24 hours. She writes:

“…why do I feel like I want to make a life with more freshness? After all, I have my tender seedlings popping their way into my garden and the flowers are blooming and the quail are kicking up
their feather in anticipation of drawing their mates.”


The imagery is so lovely that I had to look up quail in the hope of envisioning more accurately how their feathers may be kicking up. After sifting through files of photos of quail on a plate, or quail being carried by hunting hounds, I came up with the following far preferable picture.---->
posted by nina, 3/26/2004 10:32:19 AM | link

A grass high 







It was a night of miracles. The day ends, you expect nothing and suddenly: BLAST! Spring makes a midnight appearance, and the world changes into one big field of green grass. No one should be blogging now. Urgent message to all those living in Madison who can spare even 5 or 10 minutes: GO OUTSIDE AND SMELL THAT AIR!
posted by nina, 3/26/2004 08:06:10 AM | link

Thursday, March 25, 2004

Ollie is fine, thank you 

No fewer than TWO readers wrote this week and signed their message with the following missive; “be nice to your dog, Ollie” (or words to that effect).

Now listen here. I AM nice to the beast. Yesterday I dashed home in between work and book group just to walk him, feed him, and, as it turned out – give him a bath, since he seemed to smell funny. I was late for everything after that. Today – the same: I’m home FOR THE SOLE PURPOSE OF ATTENDING TO HIS ROYAL EVENING NEEDS. I could be sipping an aperitif or a latte on State Street (I have to be downtown this evening), I could be taking a walk by the Union and watching the ebb and flow of water, I could be in an arm chair of the swanky new coffee shop downtown, but NO, I am home dog-tending.

It is interesting that one of the readers explained in her email that she had had a run in with her cat, resulting in “accidental” scratches on her face and some black and blue marks around her eye. When I suggested that she perhaps trade in her cat for a new television set, she leapt to his defense as if I had advocated tying him to a stake with a match underneath to make him squirm and repent.

The idea that I am not an animal fan has to be put to rest. I think pets are cool—especially if they don’t require much care and don’t scratch your face. So, rest assured, Ollie does fine. Basically, he likes to sleep. That is his life. I have absolutely no problem with that.
posted by nina, 3/25/2004 05:25:53 PM | link

Fashion trumps religious freedom 

Another story from across the ocean –three in a row today (the weblog rests proudly on its title)!

According to the Times, in Italy, a northern town is refusing to hire a Moroccan woman to teach in the school because she has stated that she will wear her scarf on the job. Is it a question of stopping religion “at the school house gate?” In fact, I do believe Italians bring Christian symbols and lessons right into the classroom (at the same time that they are one of the least “practicing” predominantly-Catholic nations in the world), thus objections based on keeping schools free of religious messages would not have any place in this country.

Why the negative reaction to the scarf? A director of the school explained that "if she works with her head scarf on, she risks scaring the children." Well of course! Children there are used to a stunningly elegant dress code. Most likely a school would not hire a person in a t-shirt and cut-offs either. It would be too much of a strain for the children to see this anti-modish display on a regular basis.
posted by nina, 3/25/2004 09:46:31 AM | link

I have an idea for Odana Road 

Madison has some visually attractive neighborhoods. And then it has Odana Road. All the urban renewal in the world could not improve this stretch of incomprehensibly unattractive strip malls. Is there a solution? The British have the right idea.

The Times states that Britain’s big eyesore, the Tricorn Shopping Center in Portsmouth is scheduled for a date with the wrecking ball. This 1960s architectural nightmare has been eloquently described by Prince Charles as resembling a “mildewed lump of elephant droppings.”

With typical British humor, the city had workers begin demolishing the Center to the strains of the '1812 Overture' –a play on the historic significance of the orchestral piece, as when the Center had been built in 1966, its developers called it “an orchestration in reinforced concrete that is the equivalent of the '1812 Overture.'"

[As an aside – does anyone agree that the Center resembles UW’s Humanities Building? Now there’s an architectural wonder! photo credit: Tricorn Corp.]
posted by nina, 3/25/2004 09:09:32 AM | link

Odd Recollections 

Today is the birthday of my high-school-and-part-college crush (he is NOT a reader of this blog to my knowledge, though Poland has the markers sometimes of being one small town in terms of gossip). It was an on-again off-again dating situation, though for purposes of crush recollection, it was definitely “on” for me for many years. I have been known to comment that one reason I returned to the States to finish my studies in the 70s was really to get away from the shadow of that crush. One has to Take Charge Of One’s Life sometimes.

Mr. Crush and I tangoed our way through Econometrics at the U of Warsaw, though I eventually landed in Law here and he landed in Gregorian Chant in Warsaw (he chants for a living and apparently is quite successfully at it--my devious sister keeps me informed of his progress; this is a Net photo from one of his recent CDs ---->).

Why does one remember odd things of this nature? For instance, I remember that my best elementary school buddy’s mother’s birthday is on October 24th (some years I was tempted to send her a card, but then thought better of it as it, most likely, would freak her out). Or, that my flight bringing me to the United States on February 12, 1972 was delayed.

My crush and I never celebrated each other’s birthdays. His came first, and once I did get him a cute, meaningful little animal figure (we wont go there), but my birthday follows in the next month and he reciprocated by bringing over a “bouquet” of radishes (it was a joke), and so I called it quits on gifts thereafter.

I remember these details well, I just don’t remember quite why I liked him so much.
posted by nina, 3/25/2004 08:33:41 AM | link

Wednesday, March 24, 2004

If it weren’t for environmental toxins, we’d be apes 

A fascinating study is described in the NYT Science Section today (here). Researchers are suggesting that a gene mutation may well be responsible for the evolution of the human brain. The Times reports:

2.4 million years ago, a muscle gene underwent a disabling alteration. … This could have made all the difference, leading to the enlarged brains of the lineage that evolved into modern humans. Researchers who made the discovery said this might be the first recognized functional genetic difference between humans and the apes that can be correlated with anatomical changes in the fossil record. As they said, the gene mutation may represent the beginning of the ancestral triumph of brain over brawn.
At the least, scientists said, the small mutated gene probably accounts for the more graceful human jaw, in contrast to the protruding ape jaw and facial ridges.
Why the mutation? The following speculation is offered:
The cause of the mutation was unknown and probably unknowable: damage from cosmic rays perhaps, ingested toxins or other environmental exposures. Other contemporary hominid species could have been exposed to the same conditions, but for some reason, escaped with their myosin gene unaltered — and their jaws as formidable as ever. These robust but small-brain species continued to live in Africa until their line became extinct about one million years ago.

Dr. Minugh-Purvis said it was unclear how the mutation could have become fixed in the species, considering its potentially deleterious effects on survival. Perhaps other agents of change were already at work, like the transition to a richer protein diet of meat. The heavier jaws were required for grinding the mainstays, nuts and plants, in their diets.
So, those whose gene remained unaltered were slated to become extinct, while lucky us, what with environmental toxins and our desire to keep grinding on those nuts and plants (early stages of Nighttime Eating Syndrome, see post yesterday), we get the better brain and a nicer jaw line. I’m going home to remove my lawn sign condemning the use of chemical lawn care products. I don’t want to be remembered as standing in the way of further evolutionary development.
posted by nina, 3/24/2004 05:43:53 PM | link

Two comments on paranoia 

1. Reading moods

A reader wrote a concerned note about my post of last night where I alluded to intuitively surmising what the mood of the neighborhood was and whether or not I was to be the subject of scorn, ridicule, vengeance or what have you. While sympathetic to the post in general, she suggested that perhaps it exhibits a touch of paranoia. Reassurance: not at all! Perceiving the mood of a place or community can run in positive fields as well. For instance, my neighbor down the block and I were voting in the primaries at the same time and he instantly launched into friendly banter about the Green Party versus the Democrats. He knew and I knew that this was going to be a friendly exchange. No hostilities arose. ON THE OTHER HAND: when I walked down the block and a handful of women suddenly started looking heavenward as I passed, I KNEW they were grumbling and that I was the target of their displeasure. It could be that my little sign, stuck out front by the driveway, saying that ‘healthy children deserve healthy lawns’ (a direct attack at the 75% who still use chemical agents on their lawns in our neighborhood) was being bashed about. Hostility was palpable. No paranoia. Reality.

2. Poland is losing it

Another reader sent me clippings about a different possible paranoia – that which is gripping Poland at the moment. I’ve blogged about Polish fears of a terrorist attack ever since the tragedy in Madrid. Well, the nation is in a state of near panic. There are many reasons for it, some not unjustified, but I think the main source of anxiety rests in the recent switch of leadership in Spain. Poland had felt buoyed by its alliance with Spain – both on the Iraq invasion issue and on the protest to the EU constitution back in December. These two countries were European mavericks at a time when the push was to find common ground for all nations that are and will be part of the EU. With Spain now retreating somewhat (both on the issue of Iraq and on the Constitution), Poland is suddenly appearing awfully alone and vulnerable out there. It can’t feel good. I do think, however, that the Polish government (which enjoyed an 11% popularity rating back in December and now I read that it’s down to 9% --making me wonder if it’s possible to go into negative numbers, because there’s not much more before we’re at 0) needs to make some tough choices both about the Constitution and Iraq. In terms of the first – I understand completely Poland’s objections to the proposed document, but to “Die for Nice” seems ill founded [“Die for Nice’ is the slogan adopted by those that want to retreat to the Nice accords under which Poland enjoyed greater voting parity with the rest of the Western European states than it does under the new proposed Constitution]. A noble death in political parlance is still a death. Poland does NOT need to make enemies at a time when it is economically weak.
posted by nina, 3/24/2004 03:12:54 PM | link

Expensive acquisitions 


What is it about our species that leads us to be such collectors and proud possessors of things? True, I may not know many who get worked up about jewelry, but I do have a friend who has the largest, oddest shoe collection ever (she occasionally gives tours of her shoe closet for fundraising events). My neighbor collects stamps. My Tucson friend has gems and stones that are unbelievable. All good stuff.

However, I’m not much of a collector. When I first moved to the Midwest and was sure that our house, no other house, just our house was somehow marked and would therefore implode during a tornado, I would take with me to the basement my collection of photographs. That’s it. These days I’d probably also take my lap top. Otherwise I have no special attachment to things. My feeling is that it’s all replaceable and we’d all be better off without it anyway.

Maybe that’s why I never bothered to acquire, one expensive glass at a time, good wine glasses, even though I am a wine enthusiast and track wine trends through a variety of publications (predictably, I do not have much of a wine collection either).

Oh, I know all about Riedel glasses. Anyone who studies wines knows about Riedel glasses. Claus Josef Riedel hit on something big several decades ago when he discovered that the size and shape of a glass can significantly change the wine tasting experience. As an NYT article today says, “he spent 16 years studying the physics of wine delivery to the mouth and taste buds.” His factory began to manufacture distinct glassware – and I mean distinct! There are Riedel glasses for Burgundies, Bordeaux, French wines, old wines, young wines, California wines, you name it, – there is a glass for it.

But that’s not for me. And frankly, it’s not for most wine producers either – at least not the small family-run businesses that I like to visit and read about. Of course, even they would probably use appropriate glassware when opening their one remaining bottle of some 50-year old treasure. But there you are entering into an art form that goes beyond just drinking good wine.

However, two years ago, for some inexplicable reason, I broke down and bought 2 Riedel glasses. I picked the shape that would more or less work with bold full bodied reds (like Burgundies), which already is a cheat because you’re supposed to use a SPECIFIC glass for each wine. But the purchase set me back by a month’s worth of salary and so I wasn’t going to humor the Riedel nuts even more.

It was not meant to be. The box with the glasses was opened with some fanfare. The beautiful, delicate glasses were carefully washed, dried and placed in an old china closet (with a loose hinge). In closing the door of the closet, the hinge fell off, the door caved in and 50% of all glassware inside (the cheap stuff as well) was destroyed, including one of two Riedel glasses. I took that to be an omen and have never bothered with a replacement.

I read that Claus Josef Riedel died last week (NYT here). The company is in good family hands, but I do have to say that his was an impressive feat: to create a need that has busted the pocket book of many a person, even though, for the vast majority of wines, drinking from a tumbler will do just as well.
posted by nina, 3/24/2004 09:43:40 AM | link

Hundreds down, one more to go 

One last student file to read, one last check mark to make, one last scribbled post-it with comments to insert. Having read hundreds of these files this semester I am 1. relieved to be done 2. sorry to be done, in the way that one is sorry when a project has been captivating from day one and now is completed.

Who says only students stay up late to meet deadlines? Readers take note! It is possible to work this late and NOT still be chasing a degree!
posted by nina, 3/24/2004 05:07:55 AM | link

Malaise  

Both the NYT and the IHT report that Germany is experiencing a ‘malaise,’ a downturn in spirit, a sort of “I had a hell of a bad ride” mood. It has something to do with not being number 1 in everything, and having persistently large unemployment rates.

I’m guessing that it also has to do with the fact that Poland will soon be part of the EU, which eventually will mean greater portability of investments across the eastern German border, straight to Poland, where labor costs right now are one sixth of what they are in Germany.

But what's further interesting is the whole concept of a country’s mood. Was there a survey? Were people asked? Were facial expressions examined? Or does one just KNOW, in the same way that you can tell if your class is feeling hateful, or when your neighbors all seem to be conspiratorially hatching plans to do you in, or your far off friends are morose, or your own dog is in a funk. One can just sense moods. I suppose that the NYT reporter went out for a stroll in Germany, sniffed the air, and came back with these conclusive results.

I wonder what they’d say about Poland. I never thought that Poland ever had a mood, it has 38 million moods, all of them fluctuating wildly around a feeling of fatalism and doom.
posted by nina, 3/24/2004 12:14:50 AM | link

Tuesday, March 23, 2004

Five purple crocuses and “Glorious Spring” 


I’ve been seeing the white snow drops for several weeks now, but this is the first day that I have a patch of blooming crocuses out front underneath the birch. The season of cultivating perennial flowers has begun!

I was taking a blog trail break and I came across this story, referenced in Mary’s blog (here; mine is an abbreviated version): There is this horse in Japan. She is beloved by all. She draws huge crowds for each race. She has the wonderful name of Haru-urara (translates: Glorious Spring). A song has been written about her and a movie is in the works.
Is this a remake of Seabiscuit? No, Haru-urara has lost more than 100 races in a row. It’s not even close: in the last race she came in 10th out of 11 horses running.

What brings out this affection for a horse that is a sure-fire loser? The author of the piece speculates that perhaps it arises out of a Japanese fondness for the “hopeless but determined underdog.”

If you are beloved in spite of, or perhaps even because of the fact that you are not at the top of the heap, but still are making the effort, isn’t that the most glorious validation of your character, heartfelt perseverance, and sheer SPUNK? The fans seem to be saying “we’ve come to watch you because of your will to give it all, even though there is likely to be no reward at the end of the race.” Of course, the cliché (yet still lovely) ending is that Haru-urara gets the ultimate reward – the adoration of those whom she aims to impress. It seems that’s worth racing-losing for.
posted by nina, 3/23/2004 04:22:15 PM | link

Teaching law 

There are days when, simply put, you love your job. You come to class, see most everyone in place, you launch your topic for the day, hardly being able to contain your excitement.

My subject for today certainly remains high on the scale of bleakness: there’s virtually nothing happy to be said about enforcement of child support orders. But no matter. Blame the sunshine, the Spring Break rest, the electric quality of teaching on this day, in this mood, at this time—complete joy.

It’s worth recording this post – just to recall it on those other days, when you’re certain that you are not in a conversation with any of the students per se, but in the triangular communication between you, them, and whatever it is that they’re reading off the Net on their laptops. At those moments I feel the classroom should have a big TV screen on the back wall –sort of like the ones they have in gyms or in bars around town –with a Fox News or CNN headline banner running along the bottom, for when a student is speaking and I find I could use a momentary distraction [a reader and a law student elsewhere recently told me that in her class, when a student asks what amounts to a tangential question, you can see from where the students are sitting all the laptop screens automatically jump to email, CNN, blogs, spider solitaire etc, only to return to the notes page when the exchange is over].
posted by nina, 3/23/2004 11:21:34 AM | link

Roll back the clock, this was me! 

(or, a pre-breakfast post on the value of breakfast)

A WashPost article (here) describes an old health issue that has been retrieved out of the closet and reconsidered in light of the obesity epidemic in this country: NES (Nighttime Eating Syndrome). According to experts, persons with NES have a tendency to eat most of their calories after dinner (as best as I can understand from the article, there are “chemical-brain” issues that predispose some toward this), they then cannot sleep fitfully, and wake up not especially hungry for breakfast, repeating the cycle over and over again. Ultimately, what gets you in trouble is your messed up circadian eating rhythms (though I’m still not sure if this is the result or the cause of NES).

Looking back over my graduate school years (less so later in law school) I have to say that this describes me to the last inch. It also describes a great number of students I hung out with, and perhaps a great number of people today, since the article tells us that some significant portion of the population manifests symptoms of NES.
One of the solutions, according to the authors, is to reprogram your system by forcing yourself to start each day with breakfast. Of course, a person who is wolfing all sorts of heavy duty calories at 1 am hardly feels like granola at 7 am the next day, but the strategy makes sense to me (and indeed, it is one I eventually adopted since I was later surrounded by breakfast-eaters and did not want to miss out on the morning fun; it took me years to realize that no one ever has FUN at the breakfast table, but by then I was addicted to my morning granola).

It’s nice to know that there’s a label for just about every bad habit that you pick up in life. Had I known then that I was a marked NES-er, I may have felt a great urge to dig myself out of NES-dom. At the very least, I would have tried the breakfast routine.
posted by nina, 3/23/2004 07:13:22 AM | link

Monday, March 22, 2004

Does anyone else think this looks like a monster tongue? 



Many news services are reporting today the awarding of the Pritzker Architecture Prize to Iraqi born Zaha Hadid (the first woman to ever win the most prestigious prize in the field). The articles are brief – perhaps more will follow in the next days. I’ll be brief as well, though I do want to say that I was amused by the recurring mention of her “difficult personality.” No details are given on this, but I suspect her resolve not to be deferential to all rich clients at all times may have something to do with acquiring the “difficult” label.

I’m posting a quick peek at the much revered ski jump (designed by her) because it reminds me of a cheerful people-eating monster – something to give sweet dreams for the night.

And, a photo of the "difficult" but brilliant Ms. Hadid.
posted by nina, 3/22/2004 11:47:39 PM | link

Women, hotels and good snacks in the refrigerator  

Recent reports from travel industry sources indicate that women are taking over business travel by storm. I myself don’t believe it. In Asia, business (meaning fancy) hotel lobbies are 95% populated by men. I never enter business hotels in Europe, but I can tell who flies business class, since I am often snuck into the lounge by very nice ticket agents who feel sorry for my frequent-traveler-but-poor-in-funds status and give me a free pass to the business lounge (at least in Chicago). It is ALWAYS filled with men, accompanied occasionally by a wife who'll sit and stroke her fur coat as she awaits departure. These women are actually a nuisance because they disturb the peace as they make their chatty cell phone calls to their friends back in the neighborhood. Everyone else in the lounge is busy doing important things on their laptops like emailing (me) or studying profit reports and stock market prices (others).

Yet, today I read again, this time in the International Herald Tribune (here), that women are not only visible in business hotels, they are redefining the way these places relate to customers. The author of the article uses the Adlon (a top-of-the-line Berlin hotel) as an example. He writes:

Despite the fact that the new Adlon was the scene of Michael Jackson’s baby-dangling escapade from the balcony of the $7,000-a-night presidential suite in late 2002, The resurrected Adlon remains one of the great hotels of Europe. But what struck me most about the hotel on the afternoon I dropped in for a look was that the lobby was crowded with well-dressed women, most of whom appeared to be business travelers, sipping tea or coffee, either alone or in groups of two or three. ‘‘Women with class always know where the best place is to have coffee,’’ Reto Wittwer, the chief executive officer of Kempinski Hotels and Resorts, which numbers the Adlon among its properties, said on the telephone from the Adlon. …

Ask any executive in the hotel industry about the effect of this phenomenon, and you will hear this loud and clear: Far more than businessmen, businesswomen take careful measure of a hotel's amenities, design and service - and they compare notes with colleagues. More so than men, women clearly articulate their tastes and personal preferences in accommodations - and hotels respond. We can thank women travelers for the fact that at most good hotels, the beds are now more comfortable and better appointed than most at-home beds; the bathrooms have become spacious and luxurious; room service has been whipped into shape, and everything from towels to snacks in the minibar has improved.

Further into the piece, the author does admit that in terms of sheer numbers, business women travelers are in the minority. Still, they remain instrumental in redefining standards, down to the fridge contents in the hotel room. [I wonder just a little bit what that means – what is a “woman” food or beverage? Less whiskey and more white wine? Cashew nuts instead of beer and pretzels?]

Is this recent hotel acquiescence toward women travelers an important phenomenon for us to reckon with? No, not really, but it beats blog-writing about the testy White House response to the Clarke assertions today. Hotels are such charming and benign spots to consider. News stories about them take the mind off of everything else that happens once you step outside the hotel doors.
posted by nina, 3/22/2004 08:07:08 PM | link

Pills, airplanes and vodka 

A friend just returned from a Spring Break vacation in Colorado. I hadn’t known he was going anywhere. His big vacation break was to have been in the Caribbean Islands in February. He told me that he decided to go because he got a few free coupons from Northwest after his Caribbean experience. He had been flying south for his holiday and was nearing his destination when he, along with all passengers sitting on his side of the plane, noticed that one of the engines was on fire. The plane began to drop altitude. The pilot came on to say that they would shut down the engine and try to extinguish the flames. They would also make an emergency landing at the nearest Florida airport.

My friend said that everyone was silent and cooperative as they all went into emergency preparations.

In the end, it was the smoothest landing my friend (who is a very frequent flyer) had ever experienced. Any reflections on the incident? He tells me: “I was sorry that I didn’t get to finish my beer because the attendants swept away all loose debris during the emergency preparations. It was a good beer.” Any thoughts about flying? “The pilots are like anesthesiologists: most of their work is boring. They train for these emergencies. They did a good job, even though the fire extinguishers inside the engine did not work properly and so we wondered if the fire would eventually spread.” Wondered???

Perhaps we should all be flying these days with a small supply of tranquilizers. Not because I especially think flying is unsafe, but I do think you can get crazy with anxiety when the unexpected happens (an engine on fire in mid-air would qualify). I bet many hearts were racing on my friend’s flight. Though, when I was 10 and flying over the Atlantic, two of the prop engines of the small plane died in mid-flight. We had to make an emergency landing in Gander. It was freaky to be flying and looking out the window at the still blades. My recollection is that by the time we were over Gander, we were down to only one spinning propeller, but I could be off by a blade in this. As the drama unfolded, fellow passengers from the Soviet Union (it was a cheap charter flight, full of very frugal Eastern Europeans) opened several bottles of vodka and sang very loudly. There was an almost jovial atmosphere as we spun to our demise. Of course, we didn’t crash, but it wasn’t a terribly fearful experience.

A thought for future travel then: either pills or vodka in the flight bag. And the confidence that pilots can indeed land a broken down piece of metal with malfunctioning fire extinguishers.
posted by nina, 3/22/2004 12:52:08 PM | link

An anniversary of sorts 

As I start a new week in my “daily planner” book, I notice that today marks 8 full months (that’s 35 weeks) of rewriting the same basic list of general “to do” items in the side bar. This column has items that are of medium to low priority. Nonetheless, the assumption is that I will get to them for sure that week. (I start a new planning calendar each year toward the end of July, since that is when publishers of academic planners throw the new batch on the market.)

So what from this general list did I fail to accomplish yet again last week?

1. fax a copy of a statute that was requested by someone back in June (excuse: it would take me a long time to find the person’s fax number).
2. Ask for a refund of the deposit I gave to a hotel that I did not visit in the year 2002 (excuse: low likelihood of success, even though they do owe me the $230).
3. Check to make sure there isn’t radon in the basement (excuse: if our lungs have been damaged in the 15+ years that we have lived here, they can stand one more week of poison. I know this is a lousy excuse, similar to the justification for your own three-martini lunch offered in the line about the grandmother who drank whiskey daily and still lived to be 100; I do intend to get to this item. Really.)
4. Write a “congratulations” note and send present to a former student who notified me of giving birth last summer (excuse: I have since had two more students letting me know of similar events in their lives; if I wait a little longer, perhaps I can get a discount on a half-dozen cute Baby GAP overalls. That plus a baby book to start the kid reading is the standard Nina-gift-to-parent-of-newborn. If any of you are reading this, know that the gift & card WILL someday make it to your doorstep).
5. and so on.

A smart reader may point out that I should just write these items on a page in the back or front of the planning book rather than rewriting them each week. But the act of re-writing is guilt-inducing and so I will continue this practice until July 22 2004 at which time I will reevaluate my strategy for accomplishing things.
posted by nina, 3/22/2004 08:27:06 AM | link

Sunday, March 21, 2004

Cybertruth 

I was just thinking about issues of truth and falsehood when lo and behold, the paper today turned up a story that tracked my thoughts.

The following assertion was made by Clive Thompson of NYT fame in the Times (I’m paraphrasing): even though one would think that internet communications would breed a large number of falsehoods (after all, who could ever track down a fabricated life?), it seems that people are more likely to lie face-to-face than they are in email or blogs (read about it here).

The cited study would throw any self-respecting survey analyst into a tizzy, but I think the conclusions are credible nonetheless. I can tell on my own survey of an n = one: the other day I told someone that I was really happy to have run into them and that I was hoping to get together very soon. I meant none of it. I would have never said that in an email. At most, I would have sent them best regards or wishes or some such nonsense and then moved on.

It’s not only a question of POLITENESS. In part, it is the act of writing things down – once written, the statement takes on extra potency and irreversibility. And, it also has to do with your own (my own) sense of what this particular forum is meant to accomplish. Why blog or write emails based on lies? If you don’t want to be truthful, you needn’t write much of anything. You can omit, mislead, you can diffuse – you have a wide variety of tools at your disposal. Whereas in conversation, you have no time to ponder, to select the best strategy to get away from an irksome topic. You just lie to high heaven to get yourself out of the hot spot.

I like the fact that Clive Thompson admitted to a blogging fanaticism of sorts (he writes: “I spend about an hour every day [I’m sure he’s not honest here—multiplier of at least two needed] visiting blogs, those lippy [great word!] websites where everyone wants to be a pundit and a memoirist. Then I spend an hour writing my own blog and adding to the cacophony.” Me too [who cares if this is an overstatement or an understatement; it is, for the most part, true].
posted by nina, 3/21/2004 09:29:11 PM | link

Bumper sticker that was so simple that it completely confused me 

This morning I saw this on a car:

Regime change begins at home

The car was a bit tattered and beaten up and it was being driven by fairly young drivers. I was sure they were the rebellious sort (ascribing traits based on my inherent biases and internalized preconceptions). Therefore, it was natural for me to worry about what devious plots might be going through their heads as they no doubt schemed to overthrow the dreaded parental authority at home. Perhaps they had already devised a way to create anarchy and chaos, to destroy existent methods of communication, and to replace dictatorial rule with proletarian control.

I was so wrapped up in my spin that it never struck me that the sign was of a political nature until I started writing this post.
posted by nina, 3/21/2004 03:45:14 PM | link

Empty chairs at empty tables 

It’s one of those times where a lyric from a song (matching the mood of the moment) hits some portion of your brain and stays there (hence the title to the post). Another trip to the airport today, this time emptying the house of visitors and returning me to a work-dominated existence.

To add a chuckle to an otherwise bleak day, I again poke around my favorite presses to see if they are printing anything even mildly amusing. For some reason, the following letter in the Washington Post makes me smile. It is a response to the prod “Tell us about the most money you ever wasted.” Now, you could say that small sums are going to lead to small waste and big sums to big waste, but in this case, the respondent makes you understand that sometimes even smallish sums will make you feel like you’ve suffered a tremendous rip-off, just because of the discredited hope and failed expectation. The person writes:

My sister once told me transcendental meditation would change my life, so I went ahead and did it: paid $125 for a mantra. It may not sound like a lot of money, but (a) this was 1976 and my annual salary as a budding botanist was $8,000, and (b) no money ever bought less.
Exceptionally funny for about eight reasons. Or maybe I am just that desperate for a laugh.
posted by nina, 3/21/2004 07:27:08 AM | link

Saturday, March 20, 2004

I don’t understand the US indifference toward the UN 

Some days ago, I read a story about a film that is currently in production (“the Interpreter”). Many of the scenes are being filmed at the United Nations (at night, when the staff goes home), under an agreement entered into with Secretary General Kofi Annan, who gave consent because he found the film to be consistent with the basic values of the organization.

Pollock is directing it and Nicole Kidman along with Sean Penn have leading roles. Pollock had commented to the press that even though he lived for a good part of his life in New York, as did Nicole Kidman, neither had ever been inside the UN. He said when he first took a tour in connection with making the film, he was awestruck. Always a silent advocate, he found himself suddenly being a more outspoken one.

It makes me terribly sad to realize that the following is true for most people living in New York, (to say nothing of those from farther away): they’ll not have been inside the UN, nor thought about its mission. They’ll have never understood the work that it does, yet they will fire off strong statements evincing a lack of support, doubting the value or even the need for the UN. “I am no fan of the UN” – I have heard this a lot, and not only in conservative circles.

I was not surprised, therefore, to read the Op-Ed Column in the Times today where Nicholas Kristof describes the horror of childbirth in developing nations (where close to 500,000 women die each year in the absence of medical care at the time of delivery), focusing especially on Chad. Kristof is dismayed with our apathy toward this issue, and wonders how it could be that the Bush Administration would not only not increase aid for programs that help bring care to birthing women, but would actually cut off aid from (among others) the UN Population Fund (which, for example, provides training for midwives in places such as Chad). There are so many things wrong with this decision (made for political rather than budgetary reasons)! We are terribly incurious about the operations of the UN and its agencies. A blockbuster film by Pollock could change that. I’m hoping.
posted by nina, 3/20/2004 10:49:59 PM | link

Seals, spring and serendipity 

What can you say about a person who spends a brilliant first day of spring indoors, with stacks of files, mountains of papers and unopened envelopes—of the sort that have little windows on the front? That she should have attended to some of these on days when the weather was less alluring?

Perhaps. However, there’s value in finding myself in this predicament. I may garnish a number of awards: the only one in town dumb enough not to be outside at the moment, the only one blogging at the moment (I checked – all favored blogs are dormant), the only one amusing herself by breaking for a search of press stories that have the occasional puzzler or oddity to mull over.

And here’s just such an oddity, especially picked for the pathetic reader who also finds him or herself stuck working instead of playing. So, DID YOU KNOW THAT IF YOU TRANSPORT A DEAD SEAL’S HEAD IN YOUR LUGGAGE ON A DOMESTIC FLIGHT YOU MAY 1. HAVE THE SEAL TAKEN AWAY FROM YOU; 2. BE FINED UP TO $20,000; AND 3. FIND YOURSELF IMPRISONED FOR UP TO A YEAR? Along with the druggies and the Martha Stewarts and the disturbers of bear hibernation (see post yesterday), there may be in the jail yard someone who found it necessary to take back home the head of a dead seal. Read about it here, and then go back to your work.

Me, I’m going outside for a walk so that I can think about all this heady stuff.
posted by nina, 3/20/2004 11:57:51 AM | link

It’s hard to deliver a good closing line 

Sometimes a writer can whiz through a text with lightening speed, but get completely stuck on the final line. Summarizing makes the piece suddenly trite, punctuating it with a punchy comment may not fit with the tenor of the piece, nothing works.

I’m going to guess that the CNN reporter who wrote about travel to Eastern Europe (story here) had an angry editor standing over her or him, waiting to run the article over to the delayed presses (my imagery is very 40s), because the final line in the piece comes out of the blue. Here we are, reading along about the beauty of Prague, the cultural sights of Warsaw, the venerable streets of Vilnius and then, bang! –we get this finale:

Just head east -- and take a walk on the wild side.

Now I don’t much mind having my homeland described thus. There is something racy and attractive about viewing my roots as belonging to a place where wild things sprout. But it seems an odd way to end a story about sitting through Chopin concerts in the park and exploring the Royal Castle in the Old Town. Do I really not understand Westerners at all? Do they regard these sights and behaviors as brash? Audacious? Savage? What?

I think that the East in Europe is like the West is in the States – forever fighting the image of an untamed land. No matter how many centuries of history we have behind us, we will always appear quaintly eccentric and …wild.
posted by nina, 3/20/2004 08:20:31 AM | link

Reflections on the last day of winter 

The day (I'm thinking of time before midnight, so my focus is on Friday) had several things wrong with it:

1. A reader wrote that she had a premonition. She is the one, mentioned in an earlier post, who dreams things and then the dreams turn out to be true. This time she dreamt that I would be attacked in some way. As a result I have barricaded myself in the house, canceling all appointments until the alert lever goes down (tomorrow? She seemed to imply that it was a 24 hour thing).
2. I got a new ATM card (my old one was eaten by the ATM machine), with a promise of a new number, new personality, new pin, new look, new future. Yet, when I used it, it would only accept the old pin. Panic. What does this mean? Does it have the soul of the old yet the character of the new?
3. It was, formally, the last day of Spring Break. Tomorrow (Saturday) may look and feel and actually BE spring (acc. to the calendar), but today was the last day of BREAK. That means that I may officially tear up the list of ‘things to do during Spring Break’ and start afresh. I need not pay heed to the fact that I only accomplished two of the items on said list. After all, I have a whole new season to improve in.
4. A workman came to fix glitches in windows (we had installed new windows a few months back). One problem window was in my ‘study’—the room with the blooming jasmine tree (see earlier post). The workman, an old pal from many construction projects of years gone by, sought me out to inquire about the blooming tree. He said it was the most beautifully fragrant plant he had ever come across. I should have given it to him then and there, explaining that I myself could not live with it as it reminded me of Russian ladies of the 70s. But suddenly I felt proud and possessive. I answered: “yes, lovely, isn’t it?” The jasmine plant could have had a loving home and yet I refused to surrender it because suddenly it had VALUE ascribed by another. The human species is a selfish lot.
posted by nina, 3/20/2004 02:46:03 AM | link

Friday, March 19, 2004

Why do mothers send their adult children newspaper clippings? 

I just got my fat yellow envelope full of news stories from my Mom (defying stereotypes, she turned Berkeley-radical in her old age and so the clippings are of a certain slant, left-leaning shall we say).

I think she must still be holding a grudge about my primary voting behavior (reminder: she remained a loyal “Deanie” while I was already an “Edwardsian”), because many of the stories she sends point to character traits in Kerry that she knows I would find reprehensible (at the same time that she understands that the issues are moot since just about nothing would cause either of us to cross over and cast a vote for the GWB-DC ticket).

It is difficult not to love your candidate. I remember a long time ago when I taught social psych (to a class of 350, made worse by the fact that I didn’t really know what I was doing), I tried to explain the common phenomenon on imputing traits onto a person based on traits already in their possession. In Kerry’s case, one would tend to think that because he is a Democrat, running as a populist against a conservative Republican, he would be, therefore, more likely to give generously to charity, feel kindly toward the little guy, scorn ostentatiousness and pretension, and in general opt for a certain level of moneyed simplicity (no, this is not an oxymoron), regardless of the affluence that marks his life.

Au contraire.

True, Kerry’s current and past wealth are grounds well trampled by the press. However, in one article, the packaging of facts unfortunately creates an image of a man who is a big spender on himself and not so much on the little guy. In the SF Chronicle story, sent by my CA Clipper Supreme, the reporter mentions Kerry’s mansion on Beacon Hill and recalls how a fire hydrant in front prevented Kerry and his wife from parking their SUV there. They asked the city of Boston to remove the hydrant and the city obliged. In Nantucket, Kerry spends leisure time in a sprawling house and a power boat, the latter worth well over half a million (which he purchased recently for cash). Kerry comes with privilege written up and down his shirt sleeve: his mother was from one of the oldest WASP families in the state of Massachusetts. More importantly perhaps, while living on a senator’s salary of $100,000, Kerry’s total contribution to charity in one year was $135. During that same year he purchased a brand new imported Italian motorcycle (priced at $8,600). The locals in Boston and Nantucket report that he routinely cuts to the front of the line in airports, theaters, clam shacks, and at the Registry of Motor Vehicles.

It’s irrelevant of course – all of it, down to the Italian motorcycle. My Mom just wants to rub it in. She liked Dean’s frugality. As to Kerry’s life-style choices – well, a Berkeley-radical is not going to go for any of this. I expect my Clipping Service is going to be hackin’ away at the newspapers in the months ahead.
posted by nina, 3/19/2004 10:16:59 AM | link

Nonconformity 

A blogger-reader-friend (her blog can be seen here) did a neat round up of “odd stories” in her post. Among the items is the following (from a Wisconsin paper, found here):
A bear is hibernating in a bald eagle nest at the top of a tree … while several of the birds look on.
``You can imagine they're thinking, 'Now what?' `` said Ron Eckstein, a state Department of Natural Resources wildlife biologist.
This sounds like something that would happen to me: I would pick the wrong place to recline in, completely inappropriate to my species, dispossessing some bewildered souls of their lair and then have the whole community just laugh and laugh from below. Or, translated to human terms, I would plunge into doing something [in the manner of: “oh, this sounds neat.” plunge.] that most would consider rather batty, not realizing, not caring maybe, forging ahead because it seemed interesting, not seeing the oddity of it at all.

But let me focus on the bear for now. Why is he up there in that tree? Typically, bears hibernate in caves or other hollow places on the ground. The DNR specialist speculates that perhaps the bear had had some unpleasantry happen to it on the ground and was escaping the mean world below. Eagles are tolerant of other species: they’ll stare, but they wont be aggressive toward the visitor.

There is a fine for humans who would get it into their heads to disturb a hibernating bear. Just entering the den of a sleeping bear carries a maximum fine of $10,000 and 9 months in jail. Somehow it doesn’t seem right to put a person who entered a den of a bear in prison along with the Martha Stewarts and druggies of this world, but I suppose it would make for interesting, lively conversation during morning prison yard exercises (and what are you in here for? “insider trading” “possession of narcotics” “disturbing a bear”).

[photo credit: bear with us, inc.]
posted by nina, 3/19/2004 08:05:19 AM | link

Thursday, March 18, 2004

Rooms without a view 

Every time I travel and stay in a hotel, I ask for a room with a pleasant view. This could be regarded as compensation for my early years in a Warsaw apartment that looked out on the ugliest church in the world (in a terrifying and gothic sort of way), adjacent to a highly trafficked tram stop; or for the years after, when our New York bedroom looked out on the back of the YMCA, where men routinely, unabashedly sat by their windows and stared right at our apartment. Creepy.

A good view should not be a hotel priority and I chalk up my request as belonging to the “dumb things I like in life.” After all, you come back late at night, it’s dark, you close the curtains, turn on CNN or check your email, and go to sleep. Still, unless there’s a price issue, I ask for the view.


So why do I eat with some frequency in places that offer at best a parking lot for your viewing pleasure? Or a gas station? Or a ridiculously busy intersection? Or –as in today’s lunch place—all of the above (did someone say Sunprint Café? Damn, you’re smart!). Yes, of course, a view can be sacrificed for the company, the food, or even (third on the list) the ambience of the interior. But I long for it anyway: a place to eat and talk and people-watch, with potted bay leaf trees or baskets of flowers at the entrance and maybe some winding little street or dirt road just outside, and let’s go for broke here: a boy pedalling an old bike, with a baguette sticking out of his basket, heading for an alley lined with tall cypress trees. Yes, totally idyllic—such stuff as dreams are made of.

Ah well, if something should be sacrificed, I suppose it has to be the view. Even a boy pedalling down a cypress lane isn’t going to overcome ratty food or tiresome company. Sitting through a meal where after ten minutes you wonder if it would be transparent to play the “sick dog at home” card (and after five more minutes you no longer care if it’s polite, you play it anyway), as you stare miserably at your plate of buffalo stew can ruin a day.
posted by nina, 3/18/2004 04:31:34 PM | link

Life imitates cheap Russian perfume 

I once purchased a gift for someone who had done us a tremendous service. I picked out a giant blossoming jasmine tree and left it on her doorstep with a gushy note attached. She called shortly after thanking politely but letting me know that she could not accept the gift. Even though she was a horticulturist, she said she could not tolerate perfumes of any sort indoors, and so she could not bring in the jasmine plant.

Only slightly hurt (the return of gifts is always a painful experience, moreover, I would have never known had she made a bonfire of the tree—I was not a frequent visitor to her place), I took back the tree, and plotted how I could rescind the gushy message as well.

The tree stands in my home ‘office’ and every few months it bursts into bloom, exuding the intense fragrance of jasmine throughout the entire lower portion of the house.

I should be pleased. However, I was conditioned to cringe at the sickly sweet smell of artificial so-called floral perfumes. For me, they are associated with the forceful Russian women who traveled to Poland frequently to stock up on our superior cosmetics. The odorous jasmine, I’m sorry to say, smells a bit like them.

I should pass on the well-intentioned tree to someone who will appreciate its willingness to sprout blooms with such regularity. But I’ve already had one tree chopped into firewood this year (see post somewhere below). I can’t live with the idea that I killed one off and orphaned another. It’s too much. I’ll just move my papers and work on the living room floor for all the weeks (the many weeks) of its blooming life.
posted by nina, 3/18/2004 11:08:45 AM | link

Occasionally, one must write about politics 

The IHTribune has an interesting comment (by Ian Buruma, who lives mostly in Asia and is the author of "The Wages of Guilt: Memories of War in Germany and Japan.") on the US presence in Iraq (here). Buruma compares the Western imposition of principled values (personal and religious freedom, democratic elections, etc) on a reluctant nation with the Napoleanic wars, when a true despot waged wars in the name of liberty, equality and brotherhood (and what French person doesn’t choke with pride over “Liberté Egalité Fraternité,” to this day?).

The author takes a sweeping look at the two hundred years that followed Napoleon’s crusade. He writes:

France's armed intervention was deeply resented. Some nativist reactions were relatively benign: romantic poetry celebrating the native soul, or a taste for folkloric roots.
.
But in other cases the native soul, especially in Germany, turned sour and became antiliberal and anti-Semitic. (…)

As soon as Napoleon was defeated at Waterloo, the liberal laws he instituted in Prussia were annulled. And a century later, the resentments planted by Napoleon's armed liberation sprouted their most bitter fruits in Nazi Germany.
.
Arab and Muslim extremism may never become as lethal or powerful as the 20th-century German strain, but it has already taken a terrible toll. Once again a nation with a universalist mission to liberate the world is creating dangerous enemies.(...)
.
This is not necessarily because the Islamic world hates democracy, but because the use of armed force - combined with the hypocrisy of going after one dictator while coddling others, the arrogant zealotry of some American ideologues and the failures of a ham-handed occupation - are giving America's democratic mission a bad name.

(…) There seems to be little doubt that most Iraqis were more than happy to see Saddam go. Most would have remained grateful to the United States and Britain, if only the coalition forces could have somehow gone home quickly, leaving Iraq with a functioning administration, electricity, running water and safe streets.
.
This, of course, would not have been possible even if Britain and America had done everything right. The fact that the coalition got so much spectacularly wrong has made things far worse.

And herein lies the real issue: was it not predictable that the ‘mission’ would be impossible? That internal conflicts would bolster extremism, making it difficult for the moderate Muslims (in all corners of the world) to maintain their stance against fundamentalism without appearing like puppets of the West?

A friend from Poland wrote that the nation is becoming skittish about supporting the coalition forces in Iraq ever since the recent dismantling of terrorist plots to attack the airport and a railway station in Poland. That, of course, is a curious reason to pull out support (but then, the reasons for initial support were also curious). However, it may be that the time has come for Europe to coalesce around the idea of forcing another round of discussions about the future of Iraq. That discussion will not be initiated by anyone in this country in the next seven months, and waiting until November seems dangerously long.
posted by nina, 3/18/2004 09:38:59 AM | link

It could be snowing bugs 



To stave off my complaints about the weather (snow AGAIN this morning), a friend sent me this CNN image from Australia (she is especially insect-averse):

[story about Australia's plague of locusts can be found here]






Of course, I could retaliate and send her this ---->, as a pleasant reminder of what’s ahead, after the snow. Morning bantering of this kind can really jumpstart the day.

posted by nina, 3/18/2004 07:58:55 AM | link

Wednesday, March 17, 2004

Of all things, a post about God 

To think I almost missed the article (in the Guardian, but not in the form of a major headline – rather, buried in the science/education section, as if it was only marginally important to the majority of its readership) that gave me a scientific formula persuasively stating that indeed, there is a God. Well, perhaps not too persuasively: odds are, according to the scientist who worked this through (read about it here), as ‘high’ as 67% that God exists.

I see the cautious way the newspaper is approaching this finding. After all, 67% isn’t that great. Not enough to be reassuring to “Passion” viewers, for example. Does the Guardian really want to underscore a study that says that there’s a 33% chance that life is all about a meaningless Darwinian pursuit of food, mating, and survival?

I want the blog readers who have some methodological acumen to tell me that I know what I’m talking about when I say the study is odd to begin with. It starts with the premise that there’s a 50-50 chance of there being a deity. Why that high (or that low, depending on your perspective)? And the factors that are then worked into the formula (for example: the existence of miracles) – do they not tilt the outcome somewhat?

Wait. Perhaps the math is credible, but the conclusion is wrong. Maybe the data should indicate that there is only a 67% of a God out there – that he or she isn’t all that we make him/her out to be? In which case we would have a God that is divine, yet as imperfect as the rest of us.

But I don’t think that is the author’s intent. It’s a yes – no type inquiry, reassuring to those who want science to be on their side. And BTW, the author himself is 95% confident about God’s existence. The discrepancy is a little befuddling, though maybe the author’s lack of impartiality helps explain the final outcome – on the side of God.
posted by nina, 3/17/2004 10:45:22 PM | link

Bubbles 

As I am not even remotely Irish, I have no special privileges on March 17 and moreover, nothing about the world appears green today (fresh snow outside). However, I do have a nephew whose name is Patrick and I know that in Poland, where he lives, name-days are even more important than birthdays and so at least one member of my extended family is certain to be celebrating today, though most likely he will be doing so not by dancing jigs, but by chanting with his Krishna friends (yes, that appears to be his calling—no secret there, he has a website with all details made public).

Still, even in my non-Irish frame of mind, I appreciated a reader’s email with a link to a CNN article on Guinness. Not so much because I am a Guinness Stout fan (predictably, my Eastern European DNA would prefer a pilsner), but because the phenomenon described in the article is baffling and incomprehensible to me. Guinness bubbles go down, not up. Really. I am assured of the correctness of this since it has the seal of approval from a joint team of Stanford U and U of Edinburgh experts who studied the bubbles and came forth with a definitive statement on the matter.

Nothing is certain in life after all, even the trajectory of bubble movement.
posted by nina, 3/17/2004 04:28:39 PM | link

A Passion for the Cross 

Thanks to the reader who sent me the story (here) about an unfortunate incident in Maine. I hope there wasn’t a suggestion that perhaps this is conduct worthy of me or anyone I know. Most likely the story was forwarded because much has been written lately about movies with crosses in them and this added an interesting new twist to the idea of religious fervor.

It appears that a 23 year-old man attempted to nail himself to a wooden cross in his own living room last week. Why did he do it? He said he had been seeing images of Christ on his computer screen. Having accomplished the act of nailing one hand, he then realized that he could not nail the second one and so he called 911. The article states that it was not clear if he was calling 911 to get medical assistance or to ask for help with the nailing of the other hand.

He committed no crime in his undertaking of this project and so after being treated for wounds, he was released. BTW, he had not (yet) seen “The Passion.” Since he seems highly impressionable, one has to worry what ideas will strike him after watching the film.
posted by nina, 3/17/2004 11:55:55 AM | link

Food soliloquy 

Who cooks these days? –asks a reader from Poland. Her son had just completed a translation of a cook book from English to Polish and both were a little perplexed at the complexity of the recipes and the number of ingredients used to prepare each dish.

It’s an interesting question. I suppose you could divide the country into foodie types and normal people. Foodie types insist on fresh ingredients, rarely serve leftovers, make a big production of most meals, are passionate cookbook hounds, and have stacks of magazines telling them how to do all this better. I admit to being a foodie type. I would think that most card-holding members of Slow Food are foodie types: it’s our mantra, after all, to cook slowly and eat in ways that promote social discourse.

But being a foodie person and following complicated recipes are not the same thing. Over the years, my own fastidiousness with having the “right ingredients” has gone down, to the point that I can now make a ginger sauce without even procuring the ginger, though maybe it should then be called “ginger-less ginger sauce.” If you’ve ever baked a spice cake, you’ll have had the experience of being on spice ingredient number 239 and wondering if ANYONE on earth would notice if you skipped finely grinding ingredient number 240. By your tenth bake of the cake, you’re down to only 10 spices and still no one comments on the omissions.

For once I can lay it on the French for having complicated out cooking lives. The Italians are quite different in their approach – none of this saucing, fussing with ingredients: simple and fresh suffice. After all, just switching a brand of olive oil with significantly alter the taste of a dish. You needn’t confuse the palate with 30 additional ingredients. But the French—oh, how they can strain your patience, particularly with their sauce obsession. Making the broth base alone requires ten herbs and thirty vegetables – and that is only the beginning. But in all this fuss you learn to respect each product, fall in love with the scent and texture of every item brought to the table. Behind this reverence for food is, of course, a high regard for the work of the person who crafted it with such care and with attention to the land, the climate, the history that conspire to give food its unique, regional character.

Of course, all this growing and preparing is not done in isolation. Working with food should never be a lonely act. And eating it? Even cave people huddled together over their buffalo stew, didn’t they?
posted by nina, 3/17/2004 10:22:10 AM | link

Tuesday, March 16, 2004

So far away… doesn’t anybody stay in one place anymore? 

(Carole King)
Almost the entire day was spent on rectifying a scheduling mistake, of the type you make when you are either over 40 or under 35. (In between you have a window of opportunity to behave in a rational and sane manner, with the benefit of experience, but with the ability still to remain attentive to detail.)

Next month I am to return to Japan to complete my interviews with court personnel in every corner of that sprawling country. I will, as before, go from the northernmost island of Hokkaido to southern Kyushu, hoping to discover some variation in the way that customary law intersects with the civil code, to produce the uniquely Japanese brand of conflict resolution in family disputes.

This project has been difficult from day one. For one thing, I don’t speak Japanese and so an entire dissertation could be written on whether I am entitled to draw conclusions based on interviews that are painstakingly conducted with an interpreter or two at my side. I continue with the project only because I have gotten my hands on such wonderfully telling information that I have not the courage to throw it all away. So, this spring I am about to work through my final round of interviews.

Except that in setting these up, I forgot about the Japanese Golden Week. The Golden Week is something we just don’t associate with the working people of that country. We imagine them to be industrious, after all, putting in an average of 80 hours a week, with overtime for especially demanding tasks (like entertaining foreign visitors). Because we operate with this fixed bias in our heads, we simply do not expect the entire country to look at a calendar and say: “oh! all those national holidays so close together! why don’t we simply close down the nation for ten days and not work at all?” Well, from April 29 until May 9 this year I can expect all government offices to be shut down in observance of this spring holiday period. And where will I be then? Trapped in the middle, waiting for the country to “reopen” again.

I could, I suppose, fly home in between my already scheduled meetings, but something tells me that spending 13 golden hours on the plane each way to escape this golden week of Japanese leisure makes little sense. Thus I will kill time on the islands, waiting for the holidays to be over.

Today I tried to find a spot in Japan where I could hide for ten days and not go nuts in my solitary state of disengagement (in the “Lost in Translation” sense), at the same time that I could experience something breathtakingly beautiful, at a reasonable price, on days when the entire nation will be hell-bent on travel and holiday merrymaking. I have several email messages out to different places where I may hole up for the period, but I am certain they will only produce the typical miscommunication I am famous for with my polite and non-comprehending pals in Japan.

I was discussing all this with a reader and a friend today. I got the distinct impression that she thought that a month of solitary work and travel would be too much for the likes of me – even though I generally am terrific at solo treks and enjoy talking to myself on sightseeing expeditions where the only person within a 100 mile radius that speaks any familiar language is me. She suggested that I turn to my usual list of people who in the past have not minded accompanying me on these ventures, just to see if they’d tag along this time, but I know it’s hopeless. The trip is barely a month away and Japan is expensive.

All I can say is this: be prepared for some odd blogs in April and May as I make my way through many weeks of conversational solitude, trying yet again to understand what the hell people are saying around me. It will be a challenge. Am I looking forward to it? But of course.
posted by nina, 3/16/2004 11:25:36 PM | link

Admission 

I admit to sitting through a late night showing of Monster last night. In addition to our small group, the theater had 4 other people in it, 2 of whom made odd noises throughout, making me think that perhaps they had randomly picked an empty theater to find a warm spot for their extra-cinematographic activities. If any movie does not lend itself to action of this sort it is Monster.

It was interesting to watch Monster in March, after the Academy buzz has faded and the only speculation that remains is about Charlize’s next acting stint, or about Christina Ricci and whether she is terribly grating because of the role she plays or the acting she brings to it.

And, of course, in this quieter period, one could view the movie and think more about the story line. Or is it that an anatomy of a murderer is no longer riveting because we accept the idea that anyone, if pushed hard enough, can plumet and commit heinous acts, verging on insanity? I doubt that we truly buy this. It’s so much safer to feel one’s moral superiority to the next person.

In high school, our history teacher used to like to get us going on the “what would you do under those circumstances?” spin. Mostly she redescribed for us World War II atrocities and placed us in the middle of them, asking Sophie’s Choice type questions about available courses of action. But we never played this game of mental anguish from a German’s perspective. There was no credible dilemma there for her or for us to reflect on—only the evil nature of the deeds and the deed-doers. [An aside: my history teacher was a bit of a character: a huge, muscled woman, she had a voice that carried. I remember a class period where, after reviewing the carnage wrought by some gruesome European battle, she stood up, pounded the desk and screamed out “I fear death!!” There was complete silence as we processed her words. I mean, what could you say to that? It certainly had the effect of temporarily abating any note-passing and random seat-mate kicking, both highly popular activities in the Polish public school.]

A movie like Monster takes you down that forbidding path where the perpetrator is also human. It’s a sobering experience to watch “Aileen Wuornos” turn her angry eyes on the court as she screams that they are sentencing a rape victim to death. My history teacher would have dismissed this scene and given us a lecture on taking responsibility for our actions. Aileen had done that initially and gotten exactly nowhere. Surely she was not the only one responsible for what happened then.
[photo: Zmichowska High School in Warsaw Poland]
posted by nina, 3/16/2004 09:46:34 AM | link

Picking a Vice 

A misleading title, to be sure, but the day’s young and needs some punch to get it going.

In the last New Yorker, Hertzberg offered a quick glance back at the democratic primaries and a look ahead at the selection of the Vice Presidential candidate. The process itself couldn’t be simpler: the Presidential candidate points a finger and that’s it. In the interim, the public engages in months of speculation.

The article notes that in the past, the VP’s job was virtually worthless. Hertzberg writes:
“My country,” complained its first occupant, John Adams, “has in its wisdom contrived for me the most insignificant office that ever the invention of man contrived or his imagination conceived.” A century or so later, Woodrow Wilson chimed in, “The chief embarrassment in describing it is that in saying how little there is to be said about it one has evidently said all that there is to say.”

But times have changed, and there are now reasons to covet the VP position:
The Vice-Presidency is a much, much better job than it was in the old days. Back then, you drowsed through endless sessions of the Senate, lived in a flyspecked boarding house on a muddy street, and nursed your resentments. Now you get a mansion, a staff, and a plane worthy of a Saudi arms merchant. And, if you like undisclosed locations, no longer have detectable Presidential ambitions of your own, and serve a callow President so in thrall to you that when you headed his Vice-Presidential search committee you felt free to find yourself, you can end up achieving total world domination.

The biggest reason people want to be Vice-President, though, is that it has become the royal road to the Presidency, even if one’s boss remains in perfect health…. Four out of the last eight Presidents were ex-Veeps, only one of whom ascended on account of his predecessor’s death.

The article falters a bit when it comes time to speculate about Kerry’s running mate. No matter, it’s anybody’s guess at the moment and guessing is all we have for the next several months, to keep ourselves interested in the long long stretch before the election.
posted by nina, 3/16/2004 08:31:57 AM | link

Some are born great… 

If you can’t do something great, just do something to an excess and you’ll achieve greatness. What else can be said of a person who applied 18,000 layers of paint to a baseball to get into the Guinness Book of Records? And what can you say about the Indiana town that was so proud of him, that they named last Saturday “Ball of Paint Day?”

I wonder how he kept tabs, or whether he withdrew from life to devote himself to the task: “kids, I’ll be out painting layer number 14,236 today.” Or “for my birthday, I would like another can of paint; this time make it fuchsia.” And now that it’s done, does it enter a museum? Perhaps touring, along with select pieces from the Hermitage that I hear are making the rounds?

At the very least, the man and his big green baseball were spotlighted in a story on CNN (here). Millions of people around the world read it and wondered, “why?”
posted by nina, 3/16/2004 07:15:27 AM | link

Monday, March 15, 2004

Turning red? 

The Washington Post identifies Wisconsin as a Gore state that may well swing toward the Republicans in these presidential elections (article here). Along with the Gore-win states of Pennsylvania, Iowa, Minnesota, and New Mexico, Wisconsin seems on the brink of turning a Republican red. Why? The GOP is blitzing the state with ads attempting to move the focus of voters here away from the economy onto cultural issues.

Not being much of a TV watcher, I’m not sure what that means: is the state more culturally aligned with the Republicans these days? What is the source of the alignment? Culture: is it that the Republican-to-his-shrinking-midriff, Tommy Thompson, is at the forefront of the war on obesity (and Wisconsin both has an unreasonable case of Tommy-worship and a problem with obesity)? Is it that Kerry has historically supported gun control, while for many in this state, bliss means draining the contents of one barrel (beer-filled) and filling the contents of another (gun)? [An aside: I have recently learned that there is a town in Texas CALLED Gun Barrel—see site here—how odd is that?]

The Post states that only 18 states seem still in the running: strategists for both sides have all but conceded the remaining to one another. I suppose it is somewhat of an honor to have Wisconsin still in the race, though I was happier when we were heralded as a progressive Edwards-Kerry battle ground. This new image of Wisconsin turning toward the GOP is more disconcerting: haven’t we incorporated enough red already into our Badger state culture?
posted by nina, 3/15/2004 03:57:34 PM | link

Evidence of Spring Break, continued 

Spring Break is in full swing. Need evidence? Consider the following:

1. Students are blogging more (after all, they have more time), faculty are blogging less (after all, they have more time);
2. The Madison temperature outside is plummeting again to levels generally associated with regions of the Arctic tundra;
3. I could cross University Avenue on a red light without being run over by a steady stream of traffic (crossing on a red light is such a cultural thing. No one in NY would be foolish enough to wait for a green light—why follow rules made for everyone but you? ..whereas in Japan, it may be empty, it may be 2 a.m., it may be raining, sleeting, thundering—no matter, you wait for the little green man and the chirping bird to give you permission to cross);
4. My stack of “to do” lists grows each day, as I spend a considerable amount of time slumped in a reclining position thinking about what else should be added.

Since there is no holiday or event associated with Spring Break (meaning nothing to cook for), the week becomes one long guilt trip, filled with remorse over not doing enough. Can’t wait for classes to resume: the stress of the Break is killing me.
posted by nina, 3/15/2004 02:21:29 PM | link

Sunday, March 14, 2004

The (lost) art of winning 

An interesting take on the movie “the Miracle” appears in the New Yorker this week.

Most people would say that I am the last person to ever blog about sports. That may be true, but I am a great fan of the Olympics – especially the Winter Games. Maybe it’s because I was raised with skis and skates strapped to my feet. For a brief spell, my mother believed that ruddy cheeks were a sign of healthy upbringing (her theories on this bought my sister and I noses and cheeks that look like we’re perpetually nipping at the flask: frost bite never goes away) and so we were out skidding on icy surfaces (you could hardly call that skating) and on hills where you had to CLIMB back up after each crazed run, frequently each winter. My passion for this nutso winter physical stuff continued into my adulthood, though over the years I adopted the label of “fair weather skier” – meaning I’d only do it if the snow was perfect, the sun was out, and the temps were decent. But I still love watching the stuff every four years on TV.

No surprise, then, that I was glued to the set for the 1980s hockey match between the Soviets and the US team. It was a shocking victory, and I remember feeling pleased in the way that one always is pleased when the underdog wins. Still, to me, it seemed that the Russians were always getting punched at from both sides – they had the tough lives, the corrupt government, and also the disrespect of the West. Beating the Soviets or Poles or Czechs always felt so good for the Americans –in a way that beating the Americans or other Western teams never did for Eastern bloc players, for whom it was always just a game, not a political statement (maybe “beat those damn imperialists!” just isn’t as catchy as “beat those damn commies!”).

Thus, predictably, in the States, the game became over time more than just a game: it became a STATEMENT about how these young, enthusiastic American players could undo the iron fist and the grim strength of the Soviets. That’s how winners from the Eastern bloc were always portrayed here: they were all robotic machines, cheerless, determined, without souls.

In the New Yorker, the author talks to Igor Larionov – now an NFL player, once a Soviet hockey star. Larionov was too young to make the Soviet team in 1980, but he watched back home in disbelief as the game progressed and it became clear that the Soviets would lose.

The irony is that the Russian players were anything but passionless machines. Larionov, for example, has the reputation of loving his Pushkin and his chess as much as the hockey that he plays so well. In the article, he describes how it felt to see the recently released “Miracle” – the movie about the historic hockey match:

At the multiplex, Larionov said, he had sat quietly, admiring the approach, as it was depicted in “Miracle,” of the American coach, Herb Brooks. He heard Brooks use the old Russian expression “The legs feed the wolf” and saw his compatriots depicted, as usual, as talented but humorless automatons. He was caught up in the movie, riding the emotion. He liked the story.
“At the end of the movie, there was a standing ovation in the theatre,” Larionov said. “I just left. To be honest, I felt like I’d lost. My friends played there—Krutov, Makarov, Fetisov, Kasatonov. I wish the guys in Hollywood had spent more time, maybe even just five minutes, to show the Russian side of the story. They should have showed a little bit of what happened inside the Soviet camp. But I know American movies are always like that.”

It’s sad that even in our victory, we can not appear gracious to the other side.
posted by nina, 3/14/2004 03:55:03 PM | link

It ain’t over… 

What Julia Child did to French food in America, Luciano Pavarotti did to Italian Opera worldwide. I’m a sucker for Italian music of any sort – especially the kind that climbs along full blown crescendos and explodes into an orchestral climax. And so it was with shock and sadness that I read the NYT headline today stating “Pavarotti Dies.”

It took only a minute to realize that his death was a stage death. I do remember vaguely his desire to retire from opera and concentrate on his new wife and family. And I’d picked up his lovely CD of Italian pop last year so I know the man’s branching out in other directions. But for a minute I thought we’d lost a great.
posted by nina, 3/14/2004 12:16:22 PM | link

Saturday, March 13, 2004

Hang your shingle  


My sister is a freelance translator. I know a large number of freelance writers and cooks (aka caterers). Add to it the freelance teachers, tutors, even lawyers. People striking out on their own, fighting the institutional/bureaucratic model of service, opting for the personal touch. And don’t forget the freelance embalmer. NPR reports on one of the last in his trade (here).

Hurry up if you want to take advantage of his experience and expertise. He still makes housecalls. But he’s been at it for 41 years (that’s 40,000 bodies), and may retire soon so speed up the carbs and enlist his services now, while he’s still taking new clients.
posted by nina, 3/13/2004 11:26:27 PM | link

Too many words, too few ideas 

A writers group that I am loosely affiliated with posted this week a list of the most overused expressions in writing. Most of these words could be eliminated from any text without great detriment; the cuts would add crispness to a story or paragraph.

I can’t reprint them all without the writer’s permission, but I’ll post a few – just so you can laugh out loud at how often you’ve found them liberally sprinkled throughout the posts below. I read through posts with my finger poised on the backspace key, but I am not careful. After I’m done, oftentimes, here’s what remains:

actually
all of (replace with "all")
apparently
as it were
as you know
at an early date (replace with "soon")
at the present time or this time or this point in time (replace with "now")
at the same time as (replace with "while")
basically
be in a position to (replace with "can")
completely
despite the fact that (replace with "despite")
due to the fact that (replace with "because")
during the time that (replace with "while")
essentially
extremely
first of all (replace with "first")
for the purpose of (replace with "for")
generally
etc.

I make closet editors happy by feeding their ingrained sense of superiority.
posted by nina, 3/13/2004 04:25:46 PM | link

The unwelcome reappearance of Simon 

Hardly two months have passed, and he is with us again. On January 11, I posted a testimonial to Simon, the robot who takes care of all lost luggage for every defeated, worn down traveler who has the bad luck of waiting at a United baggage carousel, only to walk away without the one black upright suitcase that bears his or her name.

Well, Simon reentered my world last night, as I picked up yet another visitor to Madison, and returned home with said visitor but not her bags. The bags and the visitor are suffering pangs of separation anxiety and I am on a mission, determined to move toward reunification, asap.

Simon and I are about to have our famous protracted and nonsensical conversation whereby he collects voluminous tomes of information, disappears to think about it all, and comes back to tell me that United is working on my request.

Simon’s not dumb. He knows how to dangle a thread of hope, suggesting that any week, any day, any HOUR now I WILL see the luggage that I grow to covet more than anything else in the world. When months later the luggage does arrive, I am so deliriously overjoyed that I feel great indebtedness to Simon and we part friends.

That was then. These days, I am less sanguine about the matter. And because it is the THIRD time this year alone that bags have not traveled for us to Madison along with the passenger, I was given the PRIVATE NUMBER that is Simon’s “boss.” It may be a humanoid, or it may be a robot of superior intelligence: I am ready to go to this CEO of lost luggage, inc. and file my charges against the placating, ineffective, insufferable Simon. The goal is to penetrate through the thick layer of United indifference, and levy my punch in the Simon gut. Sounds brutal? I can’t help it –he’s made warriors of us all.

And, adversity breeds its own rewards. Because I have resilient entrepreneurial blood running through my communist childhood arteries, I will post the sale of the private United number on ebay. I’m certain it’s good for at least a two week vacation to Europe, traveling first class. After all, the number of otherwise peace-loving, God-fearing people wanting to maim and slaughter Simon and take him to task for his buoyant yet ultimately impotent nature must be substantial.
posted by nina, 3/13/2004 10:41:15 AM | link

Friday, March 12, 2004

Three-part blog on why I feel better already and it’s only the first day of Spring Break 

Pt.3 Where I come to understand that to not know something is divine
In an article by Farrar (look for it in the “Critical Review”) I read about the necessity of ignorance and I feel good all over. To “not know” is everything! Suddenly, any vestiges of dumbness within me are an asset, not a liability: my empti-headedness furthers science, politics, the quest for human camaraderie; you name it: whatever your quest in life –I am helping you achieve it by staying locked in my un-intelligence.

The author notes (in the essay entitled “In Praise of Ignorance”) that “ignorance is essential to life as we know it [go nc!]. Foreknowledge of the future would preclude choice, responsibility, individuality—even history. Full knowledge is the enemy of both intimate and impersonal relationships…Military strategy and natural science both depend on ignorance, as do law and politics.”

I realize that just because Farrar said it is so, doesn’t mean that it is indeed so. Nonetheless, the assertion does appear in print. Only a fool would not take it seriously.
posted by nina, 3/12/2004 08:55:56 PM | link

Three-part blog on why I feel better already and it’s only the first day of Spring Break 

Pt. 2 Don’t believe all that is said about Poland
In an article from the Journal of Democracy, I read that perhaps the western press has exaggerated the split between East and West Europe in terms of its support for the American decision to invade Iraq. We know that countries of Western Europe are anything but uniform in their support for the preemptive strike. And countries of the Eastern block? It appears that the deeply pro-American stance doesn’t put blinders on all citizens. The article by Zielonka states the following:

In the Czech Republic, for instance, opinion against (emphasis added) invading Iraq without a second UN Security Council resolution reached 70%. In Poland, which is considered pro-American and now has troops serving in Iraq, 62% said in February 2003 that Warsaw should decline to support Washington in the Iraq matter.

If you read the pro-American statements issued by the Polish government, you’d never guess that the nation had greater skepticism about the move toward full-scale war.
posted by nina, 3/12/2004 08:29:43 PM | link

Three-part blog on why I feel better already and it’s only the first day of Spring Break 

Pt.1 We talk because we don’t have time to pick nits
I spent the afternoon reacquainting myself with the feel of paper and the smell of ink. It’s been a while since I went through the literary mags at Borders (this is my periodic check-in to reassure myself that the published essays aren’t nearly as brilliant as the ones in my head, waiting to be written—only this time they were and so that was kind of a low point in the afternoon).

One essay was especially appealing (in the same ways as yesterday’s story on European identity in the Times was appealing, see post March 11—I feel myself much aligned with the subject matter and the conclusions). Diane McWhorter (who is no mere essayist – having already walked off with a Pulitzer Prize) wrote a sage piece about the value of “talk” (this is in the American Scholar, which does have a website, but today is paper day for me)—the conversational kind of talk.

I have to cite this one brief paragraph, which actually is a summary of Robin Dunbar’s Darwinian-like thesis on the origins of talk. She describes Dungar’s point thus:

Language was the evolutionary continuation of the grooming behaviors of our primate ancestors. The social cohesions essential for their survival flowed from the emotional bonds established by the obsessive intimacy of nit-picking and fur-raking. As the size of animal groupings grew, however, social management became trickier, and the amount of grooming time needed to grease the system (up to 50% of a primate day) began to interfere with the basic survival activities of gathering food and defending against predators. So humans evolved in such a way as to vocalize those rituals of emotional maintenance, which freed them to attend to other business simultaneously. And voila! –multitasking. Thus, through talk, are we h. sapiens able to massage the body politic while shelling peas on the porch.

McWhorter, who no longer worries that she is always the last to get up and leave parties, says a friend gave her his blessing for her constant quest for talk. He told her “There’s plenty of time for silence. Talk away.”

I suppose blogging and emailing are the next evolutionary steps (now that shelling peas on porches has gone by the wayside and coffee-house culture isn’t what I remember it to be), though they’re ones that push us even further from the obsessive fur-raking and nit-picking that were the hallmark of bonding. Ah well, one takes what one can get.
posted by nina, 3/12/2004 05:25:16 PM | link

Stop the car and lemme outta here, pt. 2 

So maybe China is not the only place where traffic has had a pernicious influence on daily life. The WashPost has an article on DC week-end driving issues (here). Compare these (China, post below & the DC story) to Madison’s own struggle with traffic problems (here) –obviously a high priority, as evidenced by the following statement (referring to the parkway project that is to ease congestion north of Lake Mendota): "The parkway is expected to be a joint county-state partnership and will be constructed in the next 10 to 20 years. Smaller road improvements are likely to happen sooner."
posted by nina, 3/12/2004 10:38:59 AM | link

Stop the car and lemme outta here, pt.1 

Maybe I’ve not seen my share of road rage in the States, or witnessed traffic patterns in remote corners of the globe, but I am fairly convinced that China must grab the title of the country with the greatest number of insane drivers, deserving of quality jail time for their road behavior. I remember several years ago sitting in a cab in Beijing with two girls in my charge (one was unrelated, making me wonder if her parents could sue me for the psychic trauma she suffered by riding in a taxi there) thinking that every single maneuver done by the driver would have gained him a hefty fine and a suspension of driving privileges in the States. As we shot through red lights, scraping the legs of cyclists and causing pedestrians to bang the trunk of this speeding demon, I wondered if the driver was putting an a show, what with the incongruous tape of Elvis music in the background and his own screaming tirade at every animal and three-wheeled contraption that got in his field of vision. Twenty cab rides later, I decided there was no show in it – they were all maniacs. Only one guy, perhaps 90+ years old, drove with any degree of civility as he slept his way through the traffic of Shanghai. It was rush hour, nothing moved much anyway. I gave him a 300% tip.

I read with great interest the NYT article today that spoke of changes that are around the corner in China: stricter enforcement of traffic regs (as opposed to zero enforcement), enactment of codes protecting pedestrian rights (anyone from the west would have to agree that crossing a street in a Chinese city ranks as the most terrifying experience: it’s you against a million moving objects, each going at a different speed and in a creatively executed direction), more rigorous testing of license applicants.

On this latter point though, I’m not sure they got it right yet. The Times mentions one of the test questions:

“If you come upon an accident and find a motorist lying unconscious on the road, and if that person's internal organs are also lying on the road, should you pick up the organs and put them back inside the person?”

Thankfully, the correct answer is “no.” But maybe the question should be rephrased. How about “If you come across a person on the road, should you maybe avoid hitting her or him so that organs may remain safely intact, protected by a firm skeletal structure, musculature, and a fine layer of undisturbed epidermis?”

Think: prevention.
posted by nina, 3/12/2004 09:30:59 AM | link

Thursday, March 11, 2004

Silent rage? 

If the Finns cannot express anger, does that make them more prone to suicide, alcoholism and depression? What happens when a nation practices stoicism and silence to such an extent that it makes the government and the mental health professionals nervous? Is a STAID nation a happy nation? Or is it a repressed, resentful nation, in need of help and deserving of pity?

Why is anger completely absent from the very limited palate of available emotions in Finland? The IHT offers some possible explanations (here):
"Self-control is very important in Finland," said Liisa Keltikangas-Jarvinen, a prominent professor of psychology at the University of Helsinki. "You cannot show anger; it means you can't cope. If a person is very temperamental and alive, expresses emotions like anger and happiness, the person is seen as infantile."

How is life without anger and with minimal emotion? Well, it’s externally calm:
Here, experts say, a car accident triggers, not blame and insults, but a polite exchange of information. A bus breakdown causes no complaints; rather, the Finns on the bus will file off and try to push it to the next stop. …It is not unusual to walk into a restaurant and spot most people eating dinner in silence, content to chew and not chatter. Silence is a sign of wisdom and good manners, not boredom.

Well, I was willing to go along until that last comment. A quiet meal? To a Pole – how utterly awful.


When I was in my college years, I spent several months working on a farm in Finland, hired to teach the kids there some English. It was impossible: the time was too short, their language base was too limited and varied. But I loved the multigenerational family, all coexisting in a small, meticulously clean house. True, the father in the family was a bit of a drunk, but he was a QUIET drunk. If there was violence, I did not see it. There was, however, one opportunity for a form of family rage to come through, and that was in the sauna. As we piled into the family hot house after a day’s work, the kids would bring out the birch branches, wet them in the water (just to hear that sizzle of hot steam against flesh), and whip away at each other, me included. The practice was then to run across the field and jump into a cold lake (even in June, it was freezing). Emotions, both positive and negative, would somehow be drained out of you, so that all that remained was the isolation (we were close to the Arctic circle), the forest, and the eerie quiet.
[photo source:FinlandPhoto]
posted by nina, 3/11/2004 10:50:55 PM | link

Spring break and a hidden past 

With the last class over for the week, my spring break has begun. Some students stock up on sun screen, others on printer paper (conversation from yesterday: “Yes, your outlines are due in March, of course they are, what did you think? If you can’t do an outline by the end of March, can you do the full research paper by the end of April? No, don’t answer that, let me live with my illusions that you’ve been making consistent progress throughout the semester.”), I stock up on lists of things to read, write, tidy, pay, mail, post (new one this year!), watch, eat.

A reader suggested that, since I have a lot of New York coming up in my next year, I should pick up a copy of “Work and Other Sins: Life in New York City and Thereabouts” by Leduff. Wanting to learn more about the book, I googled.

The book comes highly recommended. It’s about the forgotten men and women of New York. Writes one reviewer: “It is about laborers, dreamers, hustlers and immigrants from the city’s uncelebrated ranks of working stiffs. There’s the man who replaces light bulbs at the top of the Empire State Building, the last licensed trapper within city limits, the harbor policemen charged with the grisly task of removing dead bodies from the river, the black Santa Claus at Rockefeller Center, and the last civilian lighthouse keeper on Coney Island.”

So far so good, but what about the author? He’s a correspondent for the NYT, okay, cool, and what else?

I come across an article about Leduff in the San Francisco Magazine Online (here). Well now, Leduff appears to have a history of allegations of plagiarism. That’s not good. Are the accusations substantiated? Some are, others are borderline plagiarism (more like “idea theft” rather than text theft). Leduff appears to have a reputation for arrogance and a personality that is “bigger than life.” Suddenly I am wary.

On the one hand, this racy portrayal of the author should make him controversial enough to be, ipso facto, interesting. But suspicion, now running rampant, causes me to wonder about the veracity of some of his stories. So do I read the book, or reject the author and therefore his work? Seems like a harsh result based on a reading of an online magazine. Still, maybe I’ll begin my New York immersion with the other recommended book for now – “Waterfront: A Journey Around Manhattan” by Lopate. And I wont google the author until after I've read the book.
posted by nina, 3/11/2004 03:58:16 PM | link

Get well notes 

Thanks to all readers who wrote with deep concern and regret over what happened to the car (post March 7, below). [sample email: “eek!” “I feel terrible about your car’s mugging.” “Madison police are to be feared!”—okay, is there a story behind those words? “next year, park it in my block; nothing ever happens in my block” etc] I am sure if my torso got bashed in and my extremities were ripped out you’d all be equally horrified (wouldn’t you?). It is indeed reassuring that you exercise such deep feelings of empathy for the fate of an older Corolla. You’re not the type to do in an ailing grandmother or a sick dog --I admire you for your compassion.

Health update: unfortunately, the Corolla’s recovery is stalled. She’s turned temperamental ever since her brush with violence. The other day, for instance, she wouldn’t let me open her trunk and I had to undo the backseat and crawl in through there just to retrieve some groceries. I’m thinking it’s post traumatic stress, which should abate with the passage of time.
posted by nina, 3/11/2004 12:49:05 PM | link

European identity 

As May 1st draws near –the day 10 more countries, including Poland, officially become part of the EU- the number of articles in the press mentioning countries of Eastern Europe grows. Today, the NYT revisits the theme of apprehension about the great merger, evident both among the 15 current EU nations and the 10 still waiting on the side (here).

It’s a “refresher” article, in that it says nothing new, repeating ideas that have been much analyzed in recent months, especially in the European press (with all due respect to its author, because John Darnton is probably the most experienced western correspondent out there writing about Poland). But I liked reading it anyway. And, what’s old hat to me may need restatement for those less focused on that part of the globe.

One little paragraph in the piece hits the “belonging” (v. displacement) issue that I’ve blogged about previously. In describing the importance of a European identity, Darnton writes:
For others it becomes an effort to define what it means to be a European. Quickly, such conversations turn to intangibles, to talk of the Renaissance, the Enlightenment and definitions offered centuries earlier by Dante and Voltaire. Some talk of a feeling of belonging that overcomes them in a Central European coffeehouse or of alienation when they visit the United States.

Yes, it is paradoxical that oftentimes you feel most “European” when you visit (live in) the United States. I feel somewhat vindicated, in the way that you feel vindicated when the NYT parrots something you have said again and again. I’ve often been asked what I miss most about Europe. For lack of anything specific to say I’ve answered that it is something about feeing the shadow of history at every corner, and living in a coffee-house culture. Darnton has spies in this house.
posted by nina, 3/11/2004 07:58:28 AM | link

Wednesday, March 10, 2004

My life is my work 

There are people who do not think about retirement. They never want to not go to work. As long as the feet move and the mind stays on track 82% of the time – the world of work continues (I’ve noticed that academia, the judiciary and the papacy attract this level of commitment). Sometimes this is a good thing. So many accomplished scientists, writers, academics never lessened their level of commitment to their field until they were well past 90. But this is not the majority. Most people, even the “love my work!” diehards want to give it up at some stage of their lives in favor of fly fishing or bird watching (no insult intended: I would right now love to watch birds; I don’t know the first thing about birds, but it seems like a fine activity, as long as it does not include watching crows, see post March 9).

My father was forced to retire early, prior to when he would have considered himself ready (age: not even 60); my mother began a “career” of sorts when she decided to learn word processing – this was when she was approximately 70. She quit when she felt she couldn’t take one more winter in Wisconsin, forcing a move to warmer places at the age of 78.

Today, the WashPost (here) reported the following: “Chief Justice William H. Rehnquist, who will turn 80 this year, acknowledges that he is thinking about retirement. But he will not say when that might come.” That’s a hint that it might come soon, isn’t it? The article states further that Justice Rehnquisit is not the oldest member of the Court. Justice Stevens will turn 84 this year.

I am impressed. But also, I am a little nervous about it all. There are the mental alacrity issues to worry about, sure, but there are also the human dimensions. Who should make decisions of this magnitude, the justices (professors, popes) who have passed the point where the issue would have any impact on their lives? Surely at some point the act of stepping down is more admirable than staying put.
posted by nina, 3/10/2004 10:52:25 PM | link

Thanks, Madison Police 

I take back my friendly notes on your warm and fuzzy approach to helping those in trouble (see post below, March 7). You are MEAN! I have a crippled car. Shattered glass is lodged in the pavement around it’s wounded body. The sole comfort it receives is from the heartening rays of the WARM SPRING SUN. Emphasis should be on SPRING SUN, because there is not a trace of snow on the ground and I want to believe we are seasonally there. Call me an optimist, but the weather is on my side and the daffodil tips are clearly visible underneath the birch tree.

But in the eyes of the Madison police, we are in a chilly frosty cold spell of a “hit you in the gut” way of life, and a calendar that says “nope, no spring yet.”

Okay, have it your way. I will pay the $10 ticket you stuck in the broken-down-in-spirit-and-in-form little Corolla. We didn’t move her to the other side of the street last night. She needed a rest. We thought you’d understand. Obviously not, mean-spirited cops that you are.
posted by nina, 3/10/2004 10:17:58 AM | link

Snail news 


My Polish friend and reader asks if I knew of the fact that the Slow Food organization now has a Polish chapter. I did not. But my respect for the work of this group is monstrously huge, and I was thrilled that Poles were grouping together to revive an interest in growing, producing and eating foods with attention and respect for tradition, taste and natural ingredients. My friend described some of the intriguing ways of crafting (Polish) quality foods (for example: making sour pickles in barrels dunked in a river). It would be great fun to see this. Next time.

In the meantime, moving back to this side of the ocean, let me quote from a favorite website, SlowFood.com, where I found this note on the Coppola wines:
Sofia Coppola toasted her Best Screenplay Oscar for Lost in Translation with the trendy new wine in Hollywood, Sofia Blanc de Blancs. This sparkling wine had its official debut on February 29 at the Oscar parties. It is composed of 70% pinot blanc, 20% sauvignon blanc and 10% muscat canelli and is made by Frances Ford Coppola’s winery, Niebaum-Coppola Winery in Napa Valley. A bottle costs $19, but the wine also comes packaged in single serving magenta pink cans with a straw attached, called the Sofia Mini, sold for $20 per box of four.

The Sofia Mini sounds too odd. And it hardly is fitting for a Slow Food temperament: sparkling wine out of a can, with a straw? Thumbs down!
posted by nina, 3/10/2004 09:27:47 AM | link

Ter ror ism and birthdays 

As you can see from the title, I have reached new levels of google paranoia.

Yesterday I attended a fascinating lecture on Europe’s reaction to nine slash eleven. The speaker contrasted the UK and Germany and attempted to find explanations for the differences in the national alert strategies adopted in these two countries. The UK has implemented a vast array of anti-ter ror measures that extend well beyond what was in place in Northern Ireland at the heyday of its period of violence (I always think that the current political climate in Ireland is a forgotten Clinton legacy). Germany, for perhaps obvious reasons, is treading with greater care, putting civil liberties on the table each time a new measure is proposed.

Having this talk fresh in my mind, I was interested to read a comment in the International Herald Tribune today about some of our own (US), less talked of anti-ter rorist measures. Let me reprint the humorous-in-a-dark-sort-of-way article here (copyright caveat: you can pick up the text on the Net here), because I know that most readers don’t bother following links (I speak from my own experience)—it is written by a retired correspondent living in England:

LONDON: My mother had a birthday coming up, and she loves English cookies. So we boxed up a selection, all under the irreproachable Duchy Originals hallmark of Prince Charles's Prince's Trust, and set out to mail them to Massachusetts.
.
The woman at the Post Office wanted to know if they were home-made cookies. If they were home-made, we could have just sent them. But since they were bought, we would have to go through the U.S. Food and Drug Administration. It's part of the war on ter rorism, you see. She referred us to a Web site: www.access.fda.gov.
.
"FDA industry systems," the site proclaims. Created "in response to the Bioter rorism Act of 2002."
.
Can this daunting rubric accommodate Cookies for Mom? I have my doubts. But I'm relieved to find a four-page section, "Sending Food Gifts Through International Mail."
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It quotes the rulebook: You can send foreign food gifts if you warn the Food and Drug Administration in advance and get a Prior Notice Number to put on the package.
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"Who is authorized to submit prior notice?" it asks, rhetorically. "A prior notice for an article of food may be submitted by any person with knowledge of the required information. This person is the submitter."
.
Resigned to going through the same rigmarole as someone shipping a freighterload of Duchy Originals, I pull up the five-page "Prior Notice of Imported Foods."
.
I get my account number and password, and start applying online for a Prior Notice Number. As I turn in my submitter information, I'm stopped. The system doesn't like something.
.
Rejected, I send an e-mail to Help, and two days later a woman apologizes for the problem and asks for my account ID and password so it can be researched. I send those, and I hear back that it's going to their "test environment." Please allow two to three business days.
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Meanwhile I decide to try again on the submitter information. Now I can't even get to where I was before! Can the Food and Drug Administration have learned what I'm thinking of it?
.
The Help woman says: "No one else has reported this problem. Try restarting your computer."
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I do that, and again I'm turned away.
.
Has anyone got a recipe for home-made shortbread?
posted by nina, 3/10/2004 08:21:06 AM | link

Tuesday, March 09, 2004

Lawyers who write on the side 

I met a lawyer today who is a mystery writer on the side. That seems almost mundane and therefore uninteresting, but just to get your attention, I was told that he is the winner of the Poe prize for the best new mystery short story of the year. This not insignificant accomplishment clearly impressed ME and so he gave me his card. I was going to look him up once I got home, but then I noticed that the card was (mistakenly?) actually that of an insurance agent in California. So what now? Track him down to let him know that I have the number of the person he needs to call for his insurance question? I looked up the award winners on google for the past several years and none of them sound like they might have been him.

The thing is, I had a very interesting conversation on the art of short story writing. If I find out that this is not based in reality, because the guy is really a fake, then are some of my thoughts on writing, formed during this talk, suddenly less valid?
posted by nina, 3/09/2004 11:17:43 PM | link

Audacious emails, pt. 1 

This new feature will give you an idea of the type of people who write to me. I’m not talking about blog reader email and I’m not talking about spam – i.e. email generated by the truckload to anonymous addresses—I’m talking about email sent to ME PERSONALLY. Of course, I will protect the confidentiality of senders. As I said, I do not make things up on the weblog [yes, the “triplets of Bellville” post (March 8) is true—subsequently I decided that this person simply must like the feel of all those “ll” sounds rolling off the tongue]. In posting a message, I wont tamper with grammar or style. I will, however, change names and facts slightly because 1. I’m a nice person and 2. I don’t want to get sued.

Email message (A):
My ex wife kidnapped my son 4 yrs ago. She fled to Austria with him. My son is now 10yrs old. Last year was the first time she allowed me visitation with him (in Austria). She has sole custody of him in Austria. I have custody of him in the U.S. She said if I change the court papers here stating she has custody of him in the US she would allow him to come for a visit here in a few months. Is there an easy and inexpensive way I can change the court documents so they would be vague but state that she has custody and I have visitation rights? When my son arrives here I would of course want to wipe it out so it’s back to my having sole custody. Please if you could help me I would deeply appreciate it. Or if you know of one of your students that could help me out with the paper work....or what ever you could do. I am very desperate and don't have much time to take care of this.

I should have replied thus: So let me get this straight: you’re asking a law prof and students, future illustrious members of the legal profession, to help you figure out a way to “adjust” court records so that their “message” would be fake but look real? And you want me to do this quickly and with little expectation of getting anything for my illegal and immoral acts, with the exception of possibly a criminal charge that’ll land me in jail along with homicidal drunk-drivers and convicted drug felons? If your ex siphoned money from a bank, would you write a prof in the business school asking for help so that you could do the same? I’m not denying that child kidnapping is a tremendous problem among divorced parents. But your devious plot, leading to the “recapture” of your son (possibly a lynching party, to go after your ex later on?) sounds like a BAD IDEA that should be PUT TO REST.
Copied to: Board of Professional Responsibility with a Post-it saying: “please put this in my file as evidence of the fact that I am a morally and legally upright attorney, that I do not take bribes and I turn away potential clients who ask me to do illegal acts. Thanks, NC”
posted by nina, 3/09/2004 03:05:00 PM | link

Why do some people do great things? 


We ask this about people such as Schindler – who risked his life to save Jews from extermination during World War II. Schindler’s List comes out today on DVD, hence there is a renewed sense of curiosity about the man himself (Schindler died 30 years ago). Why did he do it?

Do we ask this because so many Germans did the opposite? So that his act of goodness stands out like a single flower would in the rubble of war? Maybe we expect too little of ourselves… We marvel at greatness, as if it truly is the unanticipated surprise gift.

The year Schindler’s List won the Academy Awards (seven, including Best Picture and Best Director) was a good year for movies. Could I even find a dissenter who’d argue that the movie was not the most significant film experience of the year? I’m thinking no, and that’s a good thing.
posted by nina, 3/09/2004 12:02:57 PM | link

From Blackmun to Black Birds and Blackboards 

I’ve come to appreciate that in the suburbs, waking up to the gentle twitter of birds really should be translated as waking up to the screaming noise of black birds (not of the Agelaius phoeniceus sort, but CROWS).

Crows can make life on our block an offensively dirty and miserably loud experience. The birds build their nests in the tall trees that line the street (minus one tree – chopped down, my fault, see post below) and leave their droppings on chosen driveways. They love ours. No good reason, they just do.

They ravage the garbage pails each week. Thanks to them, I know that our left-side neighbors always order meat toppings on their pizza, and everyone up and down the block knows that we went through a summer fad of eating fruit juice pops. There’s actually more that they know, but what the block knows, the blog need not reveal.

This morning, the birds were at it from dawn and it isn’t even garbage day. I heard that one environmentally correct way of dealing with them (apart from brutal murder and I am not there yet) is to fly a plane overhead and make exploding noises. These days that’s just about the worst idea that you could have. So, I am working on developing coping strategies instead.

But mainly I am hurrying to review my lecture for this morning. It is an introduction to the issues surrounding child support. This is the one topic that I cannot do without using numbers and a calculator (an anathema to law students), because you cannot demonstrate the legal fictions and absurdities created by otherwise rational (one supposes) legislators without entering into the math of it. This in turn means that since I am technologically of the “behind” sort, I have to expose my other behindedness – meaning I have to turn my “back” to the class and write things on the blackboard.

I hate doing that—perhaps my loathing of it signifies my not wanting to lose control of the classroom. And in addition, when I turn my back to students, I am imagining that I have gotten myself into some absurdly compromising state, much to everyone’s amusement. This isn’t sheer paranoia. Four years ago, I was walking to my office in the morning and a random student on the sidewalk came up to me and said: “uh, I think you’d want to know, your skirt zipper is undone.” I was so GRATEFUL to her, but ever since then, I feel compelled to check every time I am turning my back to the class. The act of checking itself is probably completely indiscreet and produces gales of guffaws. What can you do.
posted by nina, 3/09/2004 07:18:03 AM | link

To days gone by 

Remembering today the Les Mis lyrics:

Drink with me to days gone by,
Can it be you fear to die?
Will the world remember you
When you fall?
Could it be your death
Means nothing at all?”


So much has been said about the newly released papers belonging to Justice Blackmun that I needn’t add yet another blog entry on the topic. But there is one small file of material that, to me, is particularly intriguing. It has to do with the friendship between Blackmun and Burger.

Can you sustain a friendship in light of significant political and professional differences? In an interview some years back, Blackmun admitted that his mother was right to warn him that his lifelong friendship with Burger might be challenged once they were both appointed to the Supreme Court. Blackmun hadn’t believed her initially, but after a few years on the job, he changed his mind.

How can years of shared experiences be undone in this way? Is it because each Justice was convinced that the work product would survive into posterity, lasting far longer than any personal connection ever could? One can only speculate. Still, it is saddening to read about the details of the breakdown. Friendship is circumscribed, defined by each of the participants. Why would it dissipate so late in life? Reading the materials now, one can see the decline in spirit and commitment. For me, it is one of the sadder stories that emerges from the Balckmun papers.
posted by nina, 3/09/2004 01:11:19 AM | link

Monday, March 08, 2004

What can be made of this? 

[statement of intent: I am going to continue with my determination (see Saturday post) to favor text over visuals in the blog, but this post just would not work without the graphic. A new resolution is thus made: I will stick with text only, unless an OVERWHELMING URGE, or necessity lead me to incorporate visual imagery]

A friend has taken to inserting an odd phrase into the conversation. We will be talking about not anything in particular, and he will say “the Triplets of Belleville.”

[It’ll be like this, for example: “So far, March hasn’t been a very tempestuous month; in fact it has virtually manifested halcyon elements a summer season [nc: ignore the choice of words – this stuff is normal for him] perhaps obfuscated a tad ‘the Triplets of Belleville’ by the intemperate cloud-cover, wouldn’t you say?”]

I really don’t know what to make of this. I’m not even sure he saw this film. Perhaps the figures have made an impression – of the sort that only ten years of psychoanalysis would begin to unravel, in which case I don’t want to question him about it, in the same way that one doesn’t ask someone with 11 fingers why they have been blessed with an extra.

Sometimes I think that winter puts us over the top. We say and do bizarre things, which can only be attributable to our almost uncontrollable desire to pilfer, ravage and destroy anything in sight, just because we have such anger within, all the result of severe light deprivation.


I’m going to give him some time. By next month, either his head will have cleared and we will again converse quite normally, or I’ll rebut with an equally obscure and irrelevant phrase (like ‘ooee, oo ah ah, ting tang walla walla bing bang’ --from Alvin and the Chipmunks maybe? Not terribly sophisticated, but undeniably noticeable) and see if he responds. This may open the door for a reasonable discussion of the problem.
posted by nina, 3/08/2004 03:47:39 PM | link

One line 


Meet Krtek, hero of Saturday's post (see below), the mild-mannered bandit that stole my calm over the week-end.

Why did I fail to post images? Tonya (of blog fame) stopped by my office and we went over the steps I followed, versus the path she had taken. The difference? One line. I was missing one stinky little line. That's it. Computers are insane in their fastidiousness!
posted by nina, 3/08/2004 01:29:09 PM | link

Late night run-in with the Madison police 

It’s not what you think. No one called the police on me. I called the police on THEM.

Late the previous night someone took a club to the car that we park on the street, shattering and ripping out side mirrors, antennas, and generally leaving their vampire-tooth gashes up and down the body of the vehicle.

Being reticent to go out on days when March gusts of wind make the outdoors inhospitable, none of us noticed this car-nage until late in the evening, when our visitor decided that she had to get out and see the world [our visitors often feel somewhat isolated in the suburbs, what with the nearest hub of commercial activity consisting of a strip mall with not much in it beyond a Bob’s Copy Shop (an essential to suburban living) and a Hooters Bar (no comment)].

The car is a nifty little Corolla that once belonged to my mother. It got left behind when my mother decided to move to California to become one of those weather-obsessed (“is it as miserable as I remember it in Wisconsin right now?”), radically-leaning (words such as imperialism and socialism can be heard among the clatter of soup spoons in her cafeteria), gray panther types (power to the aging!) of Berkeley. In the typical way of an older driver, my mother had never put many miles on the car. Thus, even though the vehicle is old (not quite as old as she is, but gettin’ there), the odometer would have you think it’s virtually off the showroom floor.

Feeling frugal with this inherited machine that is now mainly driven by visitors, we have never bothered to insure it much – though of course, we insure against the damage to the planet that may be caused by its gentle movement around town.

As soon as we noticed the shattered glass and the twisted metal last night, I called the non-emergency police number and had the following conversation with the officer-on-call:

nc: “I’m calling to report that someone bashed in our car.”
Police: “A real shame. Do you know who did it?”

nc: “I have my suspicions..”
police: “Good. Would you like to give us some names?”

nc: “My suspicions are only suspicions. I know better than to accuse people without evidence of their guilt. However---- now that you ask, I do know that the car has an enemy. Last year a driver ran into its parked little sweet body and we made her pay substantial sums to get it fixed. She may well hold a grudge.”
Police: “What’s her name?”

nc: “No no, you’re not going to make me say it.”
Police: “Well, would you say that there’s more than a $1000 worth of damage now? Because if it’s less, why then we can just mail you some forms and you can self-report!”

nc: “What, no house-calls anymore?? In any case, it’s more than $1000. It costs $5000 these days to repaint a scratch on a fender. Of course it’s more than a $1000! The car has been walloped by a maniac with a clear homicidal impulse.”

Several hours later, a very young, very friendly officer came to our door. I had hoped he would come with great fanfare, lights shining, siren blasting, to scare the bejesus out of the people who did it, should they be watching from behind a shrub. But no, all was quiet, save for our barking Ollie who obviously has not yet learned to be intimidated by a blue uniform.

The officer wrote up the damage and gave me some good advice as to where I can get some salvaged replacement parts (for those who are curious: at the dump). I asked if he’d had any other calls of this nature lately, just to see if our peaceful existence is coming to an end (today: quiet suburb, tomorrow: drug-trafficing, gang-infested mean streets of the south side of Chicago type -- our last place of residence prior to moving to Madison). He answered “well, I typically work the downtown beat. It’s a little less calm down there, you know. Nice little block you got here.. noticed there’s a pretty little house for sale up the street?”

Maybe he’ll be a neighbor one day soon. Good. Our battered little car will feel safer. So far, being surrounded by houses where people’s jobs run from stamp-collecting (that is seriously the income-generating occupation of our immediate neighbor) to film-making (where the flamingos reside, see post in February) hasn’t kept vandalism at bay (mailbox bashing is a neighborhood past time for the young and restless).
posted by nina, 3/08/2004 09:12:35 AM | link

Sunday, March 07, 2004

Tomorrow, think red carnations 

I would have thought that Hallmark would have picked it up in a big way: what other holiday is there that'll sell the cards, between February 14 and March 17? And, if you are not of the shamrock heritage, even March 17 doesn’t work. So why hasn’t March 8th been heralded as the holiday to end all holidays?

In my years in Poland it was perhaps the most important of the winter celebrations: a day for the proverbial red carnation-- International Women’s Day. I have never thought that the day received much attention in the States. Most years, I can hardly remember it’s here. Do I miss the red carnation I would have gotten in Poland from male colleagues, friends too? No. But I miss the significant attention brought on this day to women’s issues. It was an excuse to get the nation to focus, if only for a day, on persistent gender inequality and discrimination, particularly in the home and workplace.

No, I never did much care for the carnation: it was a mummified flower that seemed to withstand days on end without water. It would last the same amount of time whether you left it in plastic cellophane, neglected in the closet, or placed it in a milk bottle on the kitchen table. But March 8th was just a touch early for the tiny violets, the lilies-of-the-valley, or the forget-me-not bouquets that would be sold by old women from full buckets at every major intersection in the city just a month or two later. This was March, and so it had to be the carnation.
posted by nina, 3/07/2004 10:19:36 PM | link

Waiting for a call 

There is a reason why the phone is not a favorite of mine. I’m always wishing that it would ring, or, more often, wishing that it would not.

This time, while waiting for a friend and reader to call back, I was staring at the closed phone book, and I saw on the cover of the White and Yellow Pages a little pop-up ad announcing: Homeland Security Guide; see “H” for Homeland Security.

Thinking that perhaps there might be some things I could learn about – like what I could be doing even now to protect myself, for example, I flipped through the pages in search of this Guide. First I checked the red business pages: nothing. The listing went from “Homedco” to “Homemade.” Next, yellow pages: nope, straight from “Home Warranty Providers” to “Homeopaths.” Well, of course, I should have checked US Government: no, nothing again. It moves from “Highways” to “Horses” (horses?? Oh, it’s the phone number for “wild horse and burro adoption”).

I knew I had problems adapting to new technology, but this is a phone book, damn it. I should be able to manage a phone book. Good thing there isn’t a real crisis.
posted by nina, 3/07/2004 04:05:23 PM | link

Up up and away 

A story caption in the NYT caught my eye –“If You’re Thinking of Living in Exile...” it read. I had assumed it was targeting those who will be disenchanted with the results of the November elections (up to 50% of the population after all, or, in the style of 2000, perhaps even more). In fact, the story is about the lives of exiled dictators.

Could the world do no better than offer a home on the Riviera to the “Cannibal Emperor” Jean-Bedel Bokassa (from the Central African Republic), who, in his time, had the reputation of killing then eating his enemies? Or how about Idi Amin Dada, whose milder sin was to rename Lake Victoria the Idi Amin Dada Sea, and whose great atrocity was that he allowed a quarter million of his country men and women to be murdered? Why would the international community leave him to bask in his Saudi Arabian retreat?

The article in the Times reminds us that lest we rush to criticize the French or the Saudis for taking in Bokassa or Amin, we might recall that the US gave Marcos a posh villa to run to on the Hawaiian coastline not too long ago.
posted by nina, 3/07/2004 03:01:01 PM | link

Trump trumps Pepin  

Did Donald Trump consult chef Jacques Pepin before snaffling the Apprentice title for his show? Pepin wrote the memoir in 2003, so it’s not as if it’s a text from a more distant past. Or, maybe Pepin and Trump are one and the same? I don’t really know the show – I tried watching once, but truly could not stay with it.

How about the publication? This is from the Apprentice, the book: “I was thirteen and a half years old when I quit school…My parents somewhat reluctantly—but wisely—went along with my decision. To be sure, I was an “old” thirteen, hardened by the war. At an age when most kids don’t know how to cook their breakfast, I had already worked in four busy restaurant kitchens.” And later: “I had loved to forage for food in the forests.” And: “my tastes have remained simple. I like straightforward food that is well seasoned and elegantly presented without fuss or deception.” Finally: “On television I wanted to teach viewers essential techniques of cooking… I became convinced that the only requirement for getting my own (TV) show was raising half a million dollars, an undertaking that I knew nothing about.” Okay, that seals it: different men, a world apart.

BTW, in trying to find out more about the Trump show, I came across the site where you can apply to be on the Apprentice in the second season (here; on that same site, you can also read about THE DONALD. The Nina did not do that). Only four days remain, thus you should act quickly. If a friend got on – I’d watch.
posted by nina, 3/07/2004 01:43:43 PM | link

A long detour along roads poorly described 

From my earliest posts here, I’ve admitted to being a fan of travel writing, consummately working through shelves of essay collections in bookstores, searching out pieces that may offer a touch of whimsy or a more serious reflection, sometimes pointedly witty, sometimes ponderous and brooding.

But over the last few years, reading travel narratives has been a bit of a disappointment. So many books, magazines and publications contain journalistic, snappy texts that are functional and impersonal, with a minimal amount of asides, so that the pieces no longer meander [oh, say, along a buckwheat strip of yellow blossoms in a Slovakian village, where the only wealth is in the mouths of residents whose rotting teeth have been replaced by gold crowns, and where the most coveted piece of clothing is likely to be a tight fitting Frank Zappa t-shirt, worn on Sundays only, of course], but GET YOU THERE RIGHT AWAY, with bold purposefulness.

And I’m not thinking of travel guides (these have improved considerably over the years). I’m thinking of the classic travel essays, on topics as different as Parisian booksellers and the disappearing hutong neighborhoods of Beijing. For me, travel writing should not be hurried or terse. But neither should it distract with an overabundance of history or geography. These forays into factual accounting have cropped up especially in works of traditionalists of the genre–for example, writers for the NYT Sunday Travel Section—who are more likely to immerse you in historic asides these days than to offer a personal statement or an insight on a destination.

So, every quarter, I look forward to the NYT Sophisticated Traveler, and each time I toss it aside with great resignation.

But not today. Messud’s piece on Washington – a city where she once lived and now remembers with the kind of nostalgia that is reserved for places one has left behind—is sentimental but not sweetly so: “Perhaps perversely, I miss Washington’s almost puritanical streak, that it is no place to window-shop, no place for luxuries: all the fancy stores have long been pressed out to the suburbs, leaving the city center for industrious pursuits like the making of laws and money—but leaving room, potentially, too, for thought, rather than stuff.”

Mewshaw’s essay on pre-Olympic Athens hoists you, along with the author, into the cab which he takes from the airport: “the cabdriver smoked, as does apparently every man, woman and child in the country, and he fretted with worry beads as he tuned in bouzouki music on the radio.” The cab hits a gridlock. Mewshaw observes “It’s estimated that Athens has more than 2 million automobiles and 500,000 motorcycles, and at any given moment all of them appear to be stalled in anaconda coils of exhaust. For more than 20 years, motorists have, in theory, driven only on alternate days, according to whether they have odd- or even-numbered license plates. But rather than halve the volume of traffic, this law has prompted many people to buy two cars.”

And finally, there is the Livsey piece on wombats and kangaroos. It begins thus: “As a girl, growing up in Scotland, I knew exactly how to reach Australia. All I had to do was dig deep enough, and eventually I would emerge on the other side of the world, where everyone walked upside down and strange animals would hop to greet me. I was a determined child, but after several attempts yielded holes only a few feet in depth, I admitted defeat.”

Perfect essays. Travels writing took a detour, but now seems to be finding its animus and wit. That’s great news for the addicted reader. The future looks good again.
posted by nina, 3/07/2004 10:26:43 AM | link

Saturday, March 06, 2004

Ping zap chugga chugga 

The house is radiantly energized with one visitor here and one yet to come (next week-end). In the space of a few minutes this obliging visitor cleaned up some of my erroneous wordage, links, and files on the computer. No word yet on the future of photos on this blog (see post below), but in reality, I no longer care. It is enough to have the house filled with live demonstrations of Hey Ya dances and to listen to stories of funny people doing hilarious acts in unusual ways. The pace of life changes. So, too, should the tenor of the posted blogs in the next few weeks: mediocrity cannot be dissipated that quickly, but maybe the internal energy will rise and move things forward. After all, the strenght is not in what we write, it’s in what we want to convey.
posted by nina, 3/06/2004 11:41:30 PM | link

Moving up: from picture books to chapter texts 

There are so many jokes on the internet about the technologically incompetent, that just running through the pages and pages of humor can make your eyes crust over. For instance, technocursed.com will give you story upon story of idiocies committed by people like ME on their computers. The techno-cursed quizzes multiply exponentially – all are hateful reminders about how STUPID we all are, misusing terminology, misunderstanding instructions, all of it DUMB DUMB DUMB.

Well, it’s back to basics for me. I don’t care that even the Amish people now have computers, I don’t care that everyone beeps their way now through every movie, restaurant, hallway with cells and who knows what else sounding the alarm. I WANTED TO POST A DROP-DEAD GORGEOUS PHOTO OF 2 STORKS, with a semi-funny story to go with it, AND I CAN’T DO IT! I quit.

A reader applauded my initial move into the visual arts (see post below). "Welcome to 2004" was the not-so-veiled message. Well, the only visual art you’re going to get from now on is black script on a white background. Black and white: fashionable colors for those of us who have moved BEYOND the abstract maze of visuals, assaulting at every turn. Just wait and see: after their first brush with color, these experimentalists will implore the black and white trend-setters to take them back into their (our) fold. Ahhh the svelte black and white sophisticates – stark sumptuousness –all in the word, nothing else, just pure, sensual, cerebral, elegant text.
posted by nina, 3/06/2004 04:53:27 PM | link

And so become yourself… 

A favorite little ballad from my college days – Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young’s “teach your children..” These days, you would not be able to keep a straight face and write these lyrics, yet I’ve had others tell me that they, too, find the gentle melody and words quite touching. A fragment to remind us:
You who are on the road
Must have a code that you can live by
And so become yourself
Because the past is just a good bye

Teach your children well
Their father's hell did slowly go by
And feed them on your dreams
The one they picked, the one you'll know by

Don't you ever ask them why
If they told you, you will cry
So just look at them and sigh
And know they love you

And you, of tender years
Don't know the fears that your elders grew by
And so please help them with your youth
They seek the truth before they can die
Etc.

A shame that the singer David Crosby has had to struggle with keeping his life in order. Not too long ago, I remember listening to an interview with him; he seemed more balanced then, more focused on his current work. How quickly it all can scramble itself again. Read the story about his most recent arrest in NY here.
posted by nina, 3/06/2004 02:21:23 PM | link

Picture this...or not 


Not to be outdone by the magnificent visual addendum to Ann’s blog, I have spent the morning tinkering with my html knowledge deficiencies, feeling myself ready to be among the posters with the mostest.

I had chosen Krtek to lead me into this brave new word. Krtek is an animation wonder: 60 years old, he has seen his homeland, the Czech Republic, undergo some pretty heady changes.

Krtek appears in short animated films for children, and he is far more popular in his home country and in Germany and Japan than any Disney character. Why, then, does he lack an American following? It has been said that Krtek is too slow moving for the crazed frenetic action packed cartoon scene in the States. The New York Times describes the Krek movies thus: “Krtek films are, in fact, slow, but also lyrical and so hypnotically distinct that they can feel less like watching movies than climbing into another human's head" A comment by Michael Medved, the film critic: “It's an alternate universe, like all of the best animated stuff is. But it's an alternate universe that feels astonishingly refreshing and kind."

In an interview, Mr. Miler, Krtek’s creator, said: "Pretty much the whole world knows Krtek; America, which is usually first in everything, is last in this...I always look at American history, and it is a very hard one. People came. They conquered a continent. They suffered hardships, and that hardship is reflected in its movies. I look at children there and think what they are watching is a reflection of that hardness. If you look at America, it is epic. Whereas here, it is more poetic. I feel here there is more lyricism."

So, Krtek is my aspirational hero, my symbol for the new era in blogdom.

There's just one problem: according to loyal readers, Krtek isn't for everyone: many get a blank space where his innocent little face should be. The new era has not yet begun. Back to html education.
posted by nina, 3/06/2004 10:54:56 AM | link

The church, the state, and the people of Poland 

It is nothing short of amazing to read today (in several of the more obscure news sources, of course) that Poland’s governing Social Democrats will introduce a bill easing abortion law in that country. The current law is among the most restrictive in all of Europe (only Portugal, Ireland, and Malta have laws that are equally punitive and harsh): it permits abortion only in the first 12 weeks of pregnancy and only if the woman is a victim of rape or incest, or if her health or the health of the fetus is severely endangered. A doctor performing an abortion under other circumstances may be imprisoned for two years.

The Catholic Church has been instrumental in shaping the current, restrictive laws affecting reproductive choice. In a country that is more than 95% Catholic, a widespread acceptance of the Church’s position should be a predictable reality. But the Church, a powerful political force in post-communist Poland, is suddenly losing its connections to the public. I see the new legislation as a real sign of a national disengagement from the Church’s platform. 60% of the people are in favor of loosening restrictions on abortion. That is nothing short of remarkable.

On another note, the person introducing the new law is Jolanta Banach. She is a member of the Social Democratic party, and thought to be Prime Minister Leszek Miller’s strong rival in the elections that are just around the corner. Wouldn’t it be interesting to see Poland outpace the United States in electing a woman to a national position of leadership? In less than twenty years, Poland has jumped from having almost no women actively engaged in party politics, to now having a number of them leap frog right to the top. Very impressive!
posted by nina, 3/06/2004 10:29:11 AM | link

George Washington type guilt 

I look outside at the soon-to-be grassy strip by the curb and I see a tree stump. A few months ago a tall tree lived its full and glorious life there, giving shade and cool summer comfort to the world below its broad canopy of branches. The tree is gone and it is my fault. I asked the city to chop it down. I thought it was dying and I hated to see its yearly decline – each spring, more brittle branches, fewer leaves, less beautifully displayed.

The question is, if I had the tree killed, what will I do to my dog or my neighbor, to say nothing of those closer to me once they show signs of wear and tear? What happened to the idea of sticking by those who have grown old before you, who are there to share their wisdom and counsel and shade?

The city will plant a new tree come spring, but it wont be the same. The old one is gone and it is my fault. Move over in the guilt line, George.
posted by nina, 3/06/2004 09:15:33 AM | link

The love/hate relationship with an office 

Tonight I grew increasingly concerned that I am perhaps forming too great of a dependence on my office. It is, after all, very late, and after a rollicking Friday evening, here I am in my Bascom Hill den, in the empty Law School building, attempting to get “stuff done.”

I turned to my friend google for a quick consult, and I feel better already. True, google wasn’t precisely on point. The office issues it asked me to address (at the Realtor Magazine site here) aren’t entirely applicable to the academic setting. Moreover, I think the flagged article is attempting to help the poor soul who HATES her office, rather than the one who fears excessive attachment, like I do. Nonetheless, I proceeded with the questions asked of me just to see if there were trouble spots I ought to take note of. In this particular version, I believe the employee is trying to ascertain if the office atmosphere has become TOO dysfunctional. I am told to give a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ to the following (in answer to the question “is it true that”):

-- Management sets goals that no one ever reaches, and then berates sales associates for not reaching these goals (true: the exam grading deadlines are hellish, and the pressure to submit grades on time makes suicidal alcoholics of all of us);

-- Sales associates and/or managers use rumors to try and manipulate office policies behind the scenes (well if they are, they’re keeping me out of the loop);

-- When errors occur, the first reaction is to blame someone, not find a way to solve the problem (if the computer doesn’t perform, I blame the computer. What, am I suppose to do, fix it?);

-- Many workers complain of headaches, backaches, sleeplessness, and other physical manifestations of high stress (complain? Yes. Are they for real? Maybe not);

-- Management is overly controlling, insisting that everything be done exactly as it dictates (that would be the provost or the chancellor or the dean? Nahh, never hear from any of them);

-- One or two people are always complaining, writing angry memos to supervisors, and getting into disagreements with other workers (oh, is this about the email exchange of the last few days? It was all in jest, wasn’t it? I certainly didn’t mean a word I said);

-- Company initiatives such as sales contests always seem to be structured so that someone—often the same someone—is the winner, and everyone else is a loser. And then the losers are reminded of the fact (oh no, wrong. We all know who the perceived “winners” are, but we aren’t so mean spirited as to point a vicious finger at the losers);

-- You find yourself going into work later and later, arriving late for appointments, and frequently procrastinating rather than getting work done (doesn’t everyone?).

Like I said, this was overall a relief. No dependency, no need to bail out either. Just a nice week-end night of work at the office. Lovely night at that. Spring-like.
posted by nina, 3/06/2004 12:27:39 AM | link

Friday, March 05, 2004

Weather issues 

A reader and friend from the NY region wrote that the city is looking good at this time of the year. Trees are budding –that kind of thing. I find it odd that New Yorkers show off their budding trees given that there are so few of them to go around.

By contrast, on the local news, the weatherperson assured us that we need fear only two more major snow storms this year. And, in a couple of weeks or so, the weather should explode.

I’m looking forward to the explosion.

A colleague’s blog (here) has a quiz about countries that truly represent who you are. A survey person (wake up all you survey types) could have a field day with this one because if you do it several times, you are asked different questions. It’s hard, therefore, to control the outcome and the results are sort of bizarre --- I ranked as Canada and Sudan, depending on the questions asked. My colleague asked if I simply changed the answer on the “weather” question (there is such a question under ONE version of the survey). No, I never got the weather question again. It was an impossible question anyway – which is more you, a cool climate or the hot tropics, baby! How about not anything near those two answers?

I have a friend who lives in Singapore. The average temp there is 82 every single day of the year. When I visited, it was 82 on the day I arrived, and it was 82 on the day that I left. It never budged. The sun rose and set at the same time, and it continues to do that year-round. I know I am sounding like the parochial northerner that I am, but this struck me as the most challenging season of all – perpetual sameness. Still, Wisconsin winters are too long, spring is too short and comes far too “late in the season.”
posted by nina, 3/05/2004 07:50:05 PM | link

The plight of the Eastern and Central Europeans 

I read in the paper (IHT here) today that the EU countries (try: the whole world) are having problems remembering who is who in the political leadership of the 8 soon-to-be member countries of Eastern and Central Europe (Poland, Hungary, Czech Republic, Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania, Slovakia and Slovenia).

Of course. But one has to hold the press somewhat responsible here. I scour the international section of the NYT daily for news of Poland or any of the other neighboring states. Once every several months, in the “Europe in Brief” section I read a sentence or two, but that’s it.

It was so much more interesting for Americans to read about the overthrow of communist governments than it is to learn of Poland’s plight as the increasingly disenfranchised yet-to-be member of the Union. Everyone knew who Lech Walesa was, or the Czech, Vaclav Havel – heroes to the west (I’m not sure most Poles continue to idolize Walesa in the same way that Americans do).

The article describes briefly the following: “they [Western Europeans] probably do not know Ivan Miklos, the deputy prime minister of Slovakia who last year introduced one of the most innovative fiscal projects in Europe, a flat tax of 19 percent on income, corporate profits and retail sales; Sandra Kalniete, the Latvian foreign minister who grew up exiled in Siberia and who will soon serve as European commissioner in Brussels; Stanislav Gross, a rising star in Czech politics who began his working life as a railway engineer.”

Such rich histories in these forgotten places! Interesting people doing intriguing, innovative work. When will we learn to look east in the hope of learning something new, rather than always exporting advice and turning a blind eye to what happens next?
posted by nina, 3/05/2004 02:28:21 PM | link

Mais oui, c’est normal... 

I know, I know, I do not need another excuse to give a nod of admiration toward the French and their eating habits. I wont go on for too long. My paper of choice (when I get around to exercising that choice, which, unfortunately, is not daily), the International Herald Tribune, poses the following question (here) from its comfortable French seat: why do Americans neglect communal eating?

The French love their food, we know that, but what they also love is the company of others during meals. We’ve read in the past that even in the urban climate of frenetic Paris, French people will take on the average at least an hour a day for lunch. The article today points out that the same holds true for evening family meals and the school lunch, which in all schools is an hour, followed by some more social time. In some schools it runs even longer.

Compare this to our own wolfing down of food: only one out of three American families sits down to dinner together, and school lunches have 15 minutes allocated to them, including time spent in the cafeteria line (I guess our experience in this was unique, since I believe the local high school extended the eating period to a hefty 17.5 minutes, or thereabouts).

At least I know now why the offspring from this household skipped happily from one grade to the next and why their parents kept their sanity throughout. The article says the following:

"Yet study after study shows that having meals together as a family is good for both adults and children. A University of Michigan study found that mealtime at home was the single strongest predictor of better achievement scores and fewer behavioral problems for children. Mealtime was far more powerful than time spent in school, studying, worshiping, playing sports or arts activities."

There is no doubt in my mind that communal eating has benefits for the soul as well as for the body. It’s worth taking the time for, n’est pas?
posted by nina, 3/05/2004 01:58:47 PM | link

Week-end… is there a week-end? 

A reader and a friend asked today what I was doing this week-end. Having stated here that I do not treat the blog as a personal declaration of any sort (see post March 2), you would think I would not take this opportunity to address the question in the blog context. Yet I feel I must. The simple answer is that a visitor is flying in tomorrow and so I will be taking another look at Truax and admiring displays in the gift shop in the absence of any other worthwhile airport activity. But the more complicated answer is that perhaps I will initiate a first meeting of bloggers-who-have-lost-all-sense-of-reality-in-their-conversion-of-each-day-into-one-long-blog-run.

Not everyone can belong. My colleagues, for example, are not invited. Ann rarely blogs in the evening, and Tonya has taken a day or two off, presumably to form a comfortable and enduring relationship with TiVo, whomever he may be. Since I am a founding member, I can state the terms: if you care more about posting than you do about calling your own mother (respectfully assuming that you have a mother), you’re in. If you travel to the desert and immediately start inquiring about the location of the nearest internet café (see posts, February 13, 14, 15) –you’re in. If you’re reading the second paragraph of the first page of the novel you started the previous week –you’re in.

Frank Lloyd Wright once remarked: “I'm all in favor of keeping dangerous weapons out of the hands of fools. Let's start with typewriters.” A blogger is more likely to follow the dictum of Kingsley Amis, who wrote: “If you can't annoy somebody, there is little point in writing.”
posted by nina, 3/05/2004 10:42:12 AM | link

Thursday, March 04, 2004

Spooky spy stuff… 

Last night I posted a blog entry questioning Senator Feingold’s recent vote against the extension on the ban on military-style assault weapons (see below). I had my say then and there, after which I retired to a yoga-like position of total political disengagement. I thought it would last at least a week.

Today, though, I came home to a letter from Senator Feingold. On the envelope I read, in big bold letters against a red background, “HOW MUCH DO YOU AND I AGREE?” I don’t want to open it. It’s spooky. How quickly did Senator Feingold muster his support to respond to my critical blog post? Will I be mentioned by name inside the letter, perhaps as a subversive force that is undermining the deeply (albeit, at present, slightly camouflaged) democratic tradition that the Senator wishes to align himself with?

Did anyone else get the same letter? If not, I have to believe that I am being targeted.

Truly, this isn’t excessive worry on my part. I know when these things get politically charged. Remember, please, that I come from a history of tough times for the political outlier. Back in the 60s, one of my NY (elementary school) classmates came up to me and asked “is it true that in Poland armed guards stand outside of each classroom and SHOOT anyone who disagrees?” And, in case that wasn’t enough, in those years, my family was not permitted to drive through many counties in each and every state because of our status as belonging to the Polish (a.k.a. communist) diplomatic corps (Georgia was the only state in the entire Union that did not restrict our movement; Florida, where we liked to drive to on winter break, was so full of prohibitions that it would take us days just to circumvent the counties that forbade our presence). So forgive me for feeling slightly disconcerted: I think I am again being shadowed, for who knows what reason. That, or else Feingold knows he made one big political error.
posted by nina, 3/04/2004 09:14:17 PM | link

We forgive thee  

What I admire is a nation with a big, forgiving heart. Under Switzerland’s NEW law (and I have to question why it took almost 60 years to enact it, given that mortality rates would act to dwindle the affected population), anyone who was punished for violating Switzerland’s “neutrality” (my quotation marks) during World War II (say for helping in the rescue of Jews), may now receive an official pardon (a very brief paragraph about this here).

In essence, people like Aimée Stauffer-Stitelmann, who had been jailed for several weeks for helping smuggle Jewish children into Switzerland during the War, can be granted a pardon. Of course, those children, now adults, have pardoned Ms. Stauffer-Stitelmann a long time ago, but now we have the Swiss joining in on the forgiveness train. So, is it in the spirit of “forgive and forget?” Like I said, a mark of a country with great humanity and a generous heart.
posted by nina, 3/04/2004 03:28:48 PM | link

Again, the Oscars 

Columnist Broder from the Washington Post announces his own Oscars for the Democratic Primaries (read it here). He writes the following:

"It's obvious that the John Kerry campaign was the political equivalent of "The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King." Just as that epic dominated the Oscars, the Massachusetts senator won battle after battle, starting in Iowa and going right through Super Tuesday."

In addition, Broder wishes to hand out the Best director award to Mary Beth Cahill (who took over managing Kerry’s chaotic campaign back in November); Best Actor: goes to John Edwards (no explanation needed—“awesome performance” writes Broder); for Best Supporting Actress we have:

"A tie between Elizabeth Edwards and Teresa Heinz Kerry, who campaigned vigorously and effectively on their own and managed, when on stage with their husbands, to avoid the adoring gaze that once was expected from the candidate's spouse. Smart, independent women, they did much to signal a welcome change in American society. And a special award to Judith Steinberg Dean, who sent the same message simply by sticking to her medical practice."

Finally, Best Supporting Actor: to Ted Kennedy (for working the crowd before a Kerry appearance); Most Gracious Withdrawal: Joe Lieberman (I don’t have to agree with all the awards, do I?); Most Gracious Endorsement: Wes Clark, “the retired general who went to Wisconsin to endorse former Navy lieutenant Kerry and said to the winner: "Sir, request permission to come aboard;"” and at the tail end, the Worst Supporting Actor Award: “Jerry McEntee of the American Federation of State, County and Municipal Employees, who jumped the gun on most other labor leaders in hopes of being the kingmaker in Howard Dean's campaign and then publicly abandoned Dean a week before Wisconsin. Dean had plenty of faults, but he didn't deserve this. As columnist Mark Shields has written, McEntee's double-cross probably scotches whatever hopes he had to become the next president of the AFL-CIO. Loyalty is supposed to mean something in politics and in life, and he failed the test big-time.”

Can I add a few about others in the run for president? Best Animation, Short Subject: Ralph Nader – truly a cartoon performance, one hopes of a short duration; Best Producer: Republican Fundraisers for putting up such sums of money for GWB, part II. With the exception of the Godfather, isn’t it the case that the sequel is always worse than the original? Oh Lord.
posted by nina, 3/04/2004 11:21:49 AM | link

The simple life of the Richies 

The perennial question at the time of divorce is, should there be an award of spousal support? If so, how much and for how long? If you read court decisions, you’d come away thinking that spousal support is the norm. Moreover, it is awarded both to recognize the contributions of each spouse (not only the income producing one) during marriage, and to respond to her or his need to maintain a lifestyle proximate to that at the time of marriage. The idea is that divorce should not result in the enrichment of one at the cost of the other – i.e. the spouse that’s economically less well positioned to start a life alone. If you talk to divorce attorneys, however, they will tell you that the reality is less predictable and only approximately 20% of spouses walk away with long term awards.

And so how should the divorcing Richies be treated by the courts? CNN reports that Diane Richie is asking for support as a matter of fairness. She has been accustomed to spending lavishly (her monthly expenses include: $1000 for laser hair removal, $20,000 for a visit top to her son at boarding school, $450 on facials, $250 on nails, etc.). It would be a hardship to change her lifestyle. I would not be surprised if she were granted quite a hefty monthly sum. This is in the LA jurisdiction – her expenses are likely to be regarded as fair and reasonable.
posted by nina, 3/04/2004 07:50:11 AM | link

Wednesday, March 03, 2004

The ballad of Leonardo Balada 

Lacking yoga (see post below) to calm my inner turmoil, I decided, instead, to google some of my elementary school teachers to see if they attained any greatness, something more significant than simply shepherding me through 2nd, 3rd, etc grades.

By far the most impressive of the lot is Leonardo Balada, experiencing quite the meteoric rise from elementary and middle school music teacher to renowned composer and professor at the Carnegie Mellon School of Music. He taught me music during 5th through 7th grades, and I remember thinking him then to be rather odd, what with a string (it was always a string) of blond hair falling over half his face, and a slumped posture of a genius in the making.

He let me sing in the ‘special’ solo at the closing school ceremonies before I left for Poland and so I decided to love him right then and there. But when he shortly after traveled to Poland and called my family home, I pretended that I didn’t exist and hung up on him. That was to be my last contact with the incomparable Mr. Balada (see his site here). Unless… unless… what if I were to send him an email explaining that his googled accomplishments have boosted my spirits on a quiet March evening in Madison? What if I apologized for hanging up on him that day in Warsaw, in the summer of 1966? No, some images are best left alone. If he didn’t remember ever having taught the spunky and not altogether compliant kid in his music and choral works classes, I’d be crushed, and then googling his name would never be a calming force again.
posted by nina, 3/03/2004 09:52:09 PM | link

A Democrat in search of New Balance 

Tonight I should have by-passed the local press. Not only did I have to lose my evening tranquility by reading a nonsensical story blasting divorce attorneys (see post below), but then a well-intentioned reader directed me to the article, also in the Cap Times, indicating that Senator Feingold, for reasons known only to himself (the stated reasons are not entirely comprehensible), was one of just a handful of democrats voting against the extension of the ban on military-style assault weapons.

I know that Feingold and I share the same birth month/year, I know that I could heretofore trust him on representing the democratic platform in the Senate, and I can’t really say that I am a single-issue voter. However, this is just too disturbing. Can anyone explain what credible reasons Feingold would have for voting in the way that he did?

I will go into a political shut-down mode for a while. Reading the paper is too harsh on the system. I wish I were the type who could do two hours of yoga every time I read something disconcerting in the press. Maybe it’s time I found some distractions. My colleagues (see blogs here and here) are all into TiVo. I don’t even know what TiVo is. Sounds like sneakers you would wear for jogging. Personally, I like the style of New Balance – both as footwear and as a slogan favoring the tranquility I am currently missing.
posted by nina, 3/03/2004 08:55:06 PM | link

How many distortions can one story have? 

Reading today’s Cap Times (local paper) on the subject of divorce through lawyerless mediation, I felt like canceling my subscription right then and there. In a calmer mode I decided that too many papers were being discontinued by me because of an emotional reaction to a poorly written story; reason prevailed and the paper will continue to grace my doorstep in the late afternoon.

When a newspaper article takes one or two missteps, it is not inappropriate to write a quick note clarifying the inaccuracy. The story on divorce, however, had, when last I counted, twenty one inaccuracies, some of them verging on blatant misstatements of fact.

It is so easy to argue that lawyers milk their clients at the time of divorce; that parents are encouraged to pursue their own interest instead of the child’s best interest in custody disputes; that if you would only take the lawyers out, some other less money-grubbing professional could step in and do a better job. The fact is, most courts have built-in mandatory mediation sessions, many appoint a separate lawyer to represent the child’s best interest, and very very few cases ever go to trial, because the pressure to settle a dispute is enormous. Judges hate divorce and custody battles, and do not look favorably upon lawyers who do not resolve the issues prior to a court appearance.

I always worry that the push toward mediation – so fine-sounding in its simplicity – will undermine the interests of the weaker party, the one that hasn’t the emotional strength to persevere. I admit that I am not a fan of divorce proceedings – I find them flawed in any number of ways. You need only attend my Family Law lectures to hear my concerns on how couples and children are treated at the time of dissolution. I spend almost the entire semester on this. But running this article which praises the services of some company offering a “better way” to a divorce, is grounds for mandating a retraction. It’s just too horribly written to belong in even the local paper.
posted by nina, 3/03/2004 08:46:27 PM | link

A true resident 

Last week I was spending a long afternoon listening to students appeal their denials of residency status for tuition purposes here at UW (I am on a university committee that hears these). A young woman came in with her husband. They moved here from Colorado because of her studies (in law, of all things). She had appealed once before and had been denied, and now she was back. I asked her what had changed since the last hearing. She responded that she and her husband had received a bill for sidewalk maintenance in front of their home this last December (they bought a small house in Madison when they moved here for her schooling) – a hefty sum of $1000 was owed by them to the city of Madison. Surely, said she, this now makes her a full-fledged member of this community and, therefore, a true resident of Wisconsin.

She was wrong and I spent a while explaining why. But I think the woman has connections high up. Today in the mail I received a white envelope with threatening words on the front of the envelope: OFFICIAL NOTICE it read. Inside was a letter from the City Engineering Division informing me that my sidewalk was going to be inspected imminently, with the strong possibility of major repairs down the pike. A bill for this city service would follow.

Coincidence? I can hardly think so. Our sidewalk was repaired just two years ago, and we paid THAT bill shortly thereafter. There is, to my uninformed eye, nothing wrong with the sidewalk – it is as smooth as an ocean pebble. It is beautifully straight, not a tear nor a dent to be seen along its long, well-tended stretch.

I fear that our non-resident has set the city against us. I can only expect now an annual repaving of the sidewalk. With the huge bill, of course.
posted by nina, 3/03/2004 02:57:50 PM | link

Numbing beauty 

One of the odder email subscriptions that I receive (on a very irregular basis) is a newsletter on Florence doings. Yes, that would be Florence, Italy. I think it must be targeting expats because it is in English, and it speaks of things that would be of interest to a foreigner spending long periods of time there.

This morning, I read in it the following: “When he visited Florence, the French writer Stendhal, after a few days spent admiring the architectural and artistic wonders he encountered at every step, was stricken by a sort of blackout, a prostration brought on by the sight of such highly-concentrated beauty.”

I read this with a sort of early March longing to be overwhelmed by something so piercingly flawless that it would make me numb. It would be best if this would coincide with Spring Break so that my own prostration would not hinder any teaching effort. It is hard to find that kind of stunning visual perfection in a landscape that always looks dirty during this month, and a town that is more on the pleasant and attractive end of things rather than fetchingly stupefying. It is easier to be a Florentine in March than it is to be a Madisonian.
posted by nina, 3/03/2004 10:35:49 AM | link

Uniquely Vermontian 

I am sure I could eventually come to understand why the state of Vermont voted overwhelmingly to support Dean today. But this other piece of news (here) – about the town of Killington wanting to secede from Vermont to become a part of New Hampshire (a mere 25 miles away) is a bit much. Though, it would be interesting to give cities and towns the choice of state affiliation. Madison would probably opt for Massachusetts. And where would Berkeley go? No state quite matches its idiosyncratic disposition. A fascinating idea, all the more remarkable since I am sure that the laws of the chosen state (in today’s case, those of NH) were not thoroughly examined to determine if they were compatible with the mood of the town.

Perhaps the one conclusion one can walk away with today is that Vermont can’t quite shake that now fading glory of being in the public eye.
posted by nina, 3/03/2004 12:41:25 AM | link

Tuesday, March 02, 2004

A day of interesting conversations 

A reader tells me:

r: your blog is so personal, I could never blog in that way…
nc: personal? I wont even reveal the top movies selected in my name by the “pick-a-DVD service” (see post sometime in January), I write about the most benign events in my life, I say little, if anything, about what I’m REALLY thinking, that’s for email or personal encounters, not for BLOGS…what do you mean by ‘personal’?

r: well, just as an example I would never say where it is that I am traveling..
nc: that is completely impersonal! I write travel stories on the side, that’s how impersonal travel is in my mind. I hosted a travel website for years and wrote constantly about visits to family farms and vineyards in distant places. Writing about travel is not personal, it’s a nudge to look at an issue from the other side of the ocean, with a different focus perhaps…

r: well yes, but you reveal your position in the process of writing.
nc: do I? Are you sure? Maybe sometimes. I suppose. I guess everyone does know whom I voted for. Or, at least it can be assumed. I’ll grant this much: writing a blog is much like going to a dinner with hosts at a foreign university: the same level of detail would go into a conversation there. After a shot of sake, that detail may expand a little, but it will always be a story within the boundaries of that wonderful, yet limited, conversation.
posted by nina, 3/02/2004 05:42:17 PM | link

“Drama-starved pundits…” 

“Drama-starved pundits"--these are words used in a WPost article today referring to those who will pick up on Cheney’s comments on the gay marriage saga, looking to see if there is enough of a rift between Cheney and Bush for the president to dump Cheney from the ticket anytime soon. Not wishing to be subsumed into this category, I will NOT devote much space to Cheney’s very amusing answer to the question of whether he supported Bush’s proposed constitutional amendment to ban gay marriage [hint – Cheney made himself out to be a complete non-person, which is perhaps not a surprise, but it is rather funny in an awful sort of way].

Perhaps more disturbing is the reporting of support in this country for the VP: Cheney has an approval rating of 33 percent, disapproval 36, and 31 had no opinion. As to that last number, in the words of the Post, “where have these folks been?”
posted by nina, 3/02/2004 04:16:03 PM | link

the happy families of Coaticook 

The NYT describes (here) a town in Quebec (Coaticook) where the mayor is providing subsidies so that people would hurry up and multiply. Currently, the number of births averages to about 1.3 per couple. He is hoping that by throwing in a large sum of money for a third child (and fourth, and fifth…), along with subsidies for children’s sports equipment and music lessons, he can keep the families large, culturally and physically fit, and happily married.

Maybe, maybe not. He admits to having no data to support this, though he feels that it can’t but help prod families into making that decision to have even more little rabbits.

The fact is, family-friendly subsidies are not new. Many countries use financial incentives to boost reproduction and to keep young parents in the work force. France is a classic: over 80% of women are employed (ditto Japan) – a fact that reflects the country’s offers of day care subsidies, nanny subsidies, and a number of other benefits for the birthing mother. Last I checked, close to 95% of all French children ages 3 – 5 attended state-funded child care programs (with great food to boot). Far fewer women are in the workforce in Britain and Canada– where the governments are less forthcoming with subsidies.

In Coaticook, Cananda the offer is of piano lessons and hockey sticks and $750 as an incentive to have that extra child. Parents are grateful, I’m sure, with every peanut thrown their way, but oh, is this ever a peanut!
posted by nina, 3/02/2004 01:10:31 PM | link

Conversation in the hallway 

reader (r): if you could have 5 million people read your blog daily, would you be happy?
nc: No. definitely not. All those anonymous addresses clicking in – never.

r: if you could have 5 thousand people read your blog daily, would you be happy?
nc: no, same reasons.

r: if you could have 500 people read your blog daily, would you be happy?
nc: I think that’s still too much. Unless the readership was composed of people who were no more than one degree of separation removed from me: friends of friends is okay. Friends of friends of friends -- maybe. Complete strangers? It’s not whom I think of when I write a post. I’d have to change my style.

r: if you could have 50 people read your blog daily, would you be happy?
nc: that’s it? I have 50 people in my Family Law class alone. I’m sure this blog hasn’t yet reached all their computerized little fingers, but yes, I would like at least two readers who are not reading to see if they can figure out if I say anything that will help them on their exam.

r: so how many readers would make you happy?
nc: quality, man, it’s all about quality. A reader should like to read the kind of stuff that I like to write about. Style, content, experiences, quirky selection of topics – all that has to please, otherwise it’s a misfire. Lucky thing is, if you’re a reader who logs on only to wince at the mere titles of some of the posts, you of course know that you can find a million other blogs to make you happy. Or, you can start your own little slice of heaven. [And I want to see YOU keep it lively and bold on a daily basis, for months and months!]
posted by nina, 3/02/2004 12:30:27 PM | link

What’s wrong with slam dunker? 

Class notes from today:

nc: “Why isn’t this case a slam dunker, a no brainer, and easy win for the plaintif?

student: “Professor Camic, it’s not a slam dunker because you can’t say anything is a slam dunker. The word is ‘slam dunk’.” [here student makes a swift and forceful hand motion implying some baseball move that is unrecognizable by me but appears to satisfy the visual requirements of what is a slam dunk]

The edification of the immigrant continues.
posted by nina, 3/02/2004 10:59:49 AM | link

Brief comment after ever-so-brief walk with dog 

Weather update: the snow has officially melted in the backyard. Completely. Now is the time to draw mighty plans and turn great ambitions into reality: the season of heaving and hoeing is just ahead. Each year I remove the next five to ten square feet of lawn and convert it into planting space. I do it by hand – none of the heavy machinery for me. I’d spent my first years of life and the best part of every childhood summer in a remote village in Poland with my grandparents (electricity arrived only when I was 5, running water and indoor plumbing came much much later). The love of working the soil comes from those years. Now if I could only convert all this suburban rocky clay soil into something that can sustain plantlife, I would be happy.
posted by nina, 3/02/2004 12:35:04 AM | link

Monday, March 01, 2004

Politics and songs 

An interesting article in the Washington Post today made me wonder if its mission is to spot inconsistencies in NYT reporting (read it here). But let me bypass that for now. Further into the piece, the author turns his attention to Kerry’s campaign (this is a cite twice removed – in other words, I am citing to the Post, which, inturn, is citing to the National Review and so there is an element of mockery here):

Why does Sen. John Kerry talk incessantly about Vietnam?
Obviously, it has given him a great political advantage in past campaigns and he hopes it will do the same in his race for the White House. But there might be another reason. Perhaps more than any other presidential candidate in recent memory, Kerry seems to be living in another time, playing a movie of Vietnam over and over in his mind . . .
Is Kerry's the only campaign to play Jimi Hendrix -- specifically, 'Fire' from the 1967 album Are You Experienced? -- at rallies? Other candidates -- like John Edwards, with his theme song, John Mellencamp's 'Small Town' -- aren't exactly cutting edge, but they have chosen somewhat newer stuff.
And what about the music on Kerry's bus? Before the Iowa caucuses, Washington Post reporter Ceci Connolly described the candidate hanging out on the bus with Peter Yarrow, his old friend from Peter, Paul, and Mary. 'Pedro, sing us a song,' Kerry ordered one day. Yarrow picked up a guitar and began to play and sing -- and later waxed nostalgic about the antiwar rallies he attended way back when with Kerry and Eugene McCarthy.
Earlier, Connolly wrote, when Yarrow sang 'Puff the Magic Dragon' at an event in a private home in Ames, Iowa, 'Kerry lifted his fingers to his mouth for a quick toke on an imaginary joint. You can almost see his thick mane of silver hair returning to the shaggy brown do of those days.'
This man is living in a time warp. No wonder Kerry sees any conflict -- Gulf War I, Afghanistan, Gulf War II --as a potential Vietnam. In Kerry's world, Vietnam is running on a continuous loop on that big screen TV -- with Jimi, Kris, and Peter, Paul, and Mary singing in the background.

Oh how annoying! Can we trivilaize the man any more than this?
posted by nina, 3/01/2004 09:38:46 PM | link

Dressing without care 

In today’s Cap Times, columnist Doug Moe both complains that Midwesterners have to “wear” the label of having no taste (especially for clothes), at the same time that he admits to hating anything other than white socks and flexible waist-line pants (would that be on a rubber band?) and to despising any sort of neck wear. Moe suggests the following reason for why men would even contemplate putting on a tie: “men wear neckties (only) because women wear high heels – it’s a form of attire revenge that each gender practices on the other.”

So is he agreeing with the label of skuzzy tastelessness? Hard to say. And maybe the label of “good taste” should not enter into any discussion of dress or style. You can only irritate someone by proclaiming knowledge of what stands behind it since claiming to recognize good taste is already a boast: it elevates you to a level of greater insight, to having an educated palate, discriminating judgment and a good eye.

But is there nothing in the claim that Midwesterners are poor dressers? Certainly everyone would agree that overall, Wisconsinites are comfort-oriented in their dress: practical rather than extravagant. I think you could go to the best restaurant in sweat pants and no one would care. In Poland, even those on a shoestring budget take great pains to present themselves well in public. You need only ride the subway in Warsaw to see this – students and older people alike are extremely mindful of what they wear. Moe in his white socks, flexible pants and open collar shirt is basically saying “heck with it, I’ll do what I dang well please.” The kinder interpretation is that clothes are, after all, only superficial markers of anyone’s worth, proxies for an affluence in resources rather than spirit. But an “I’m not going to bother” attitude does say something else about a person, doesn’t it? Being a slob, clothes-wise or otherwise, is a request for the indulgence of others. Isn’t it a sign that you’re privileging the self over those around you?
posted by nina, 3/01/2004 05:03:34 PM | link

What if 

A Polish reader sent me photos from the reunion of our university class of economists. I had begun my studies in econometrics with these guys at the U of Warsaw in 1969, and I would have gotten my MA with them in 1974 had I stayed, but I barreled out halfway and moved to NY and to a new field of study – sociology (only, in the end, to capitulate to law). The photos had the effect that reunions have on people if you haven’t been tracking others’ progress. Everyone looked much the same, only 30+ years older.

It is interesting to play the “what if” game with yourself, so I indulged in a little fantasy, aided by the photos. What if I had stayed... I’d be there juggling a glass of wine (one hopes it is wine and not stronger stuff, but in Poland you never know) with them, talking about our changing careers in light of Poland’s economic reforms (my class was greatly affected by the transformations – not always in a positive way; some are struggling with keeping employed). I’d exchange stories about how my little bobus (kiddie) turned into a fine young Zygmunt or Waclaw (neither name is particularly a favorite, but I’m just spinning here), and I’d ask for a recipe for the newest version of poppy-seed cake. We’d review our winter vacations and our plans for the summer (Poles cannot be content without at least two hefty vacations, during the winter and summer, sometimes supplemented with a brief little escape, maybe for a week or so, in the fall). Most definitely we’d comment on how joining the EU will affect the environment, or the success of a local favorite shop that's struggling to stay in business. Everyone talks about the EU, and us econometricians would be right in there churnin’ numbers and keeping fingers crossed. Late at night we’d walk the city streets toward home – but wait, who is “we” and where is “home?” Here’s where the game starts being complicated. Better get back to work – so much easier and more linear.
posted by nina, 3/01/2004 01:11:05 PM | link

Days of wine and marriages 

An odd way to begin a new month, a new week, and a new morning: to write a blog post about a story from last month’s Wine Spectator.

It all, however, makes sense. I have been up since dawn clearing the stack of accumulated bills and magazines from February in what has become a monthly ritual (first day of each month) of bill-paying, grumbling about paper waste and junk mail, and in general, snarling at every window-envelope that crosses my path. I am almost done with the stack and am celebrating with a quick post on an article I paused to read a minute ago.

The article is about Gavin Newsome, obviously written before Mr. Newsome put himself on the map by permitting gay marriages in the city where he is mayor (SF). My Berkeley-residing mother had already alerted me to the fact that he is an ambitious individual (somehow when she says this it always sounds like a pejorative). The WS article, similarly, is not blind to Newsome’s ambitions. It starts out with the following:
Garvin Newsome seems to have it all—a successful business centered around wine, restaurants and resorts; good looks, charm and sophistication; a wife who is a former model turned city prosecutor; a politically connected father [later on we find out that his dad is a retired state appeals court judge]; and a billionaire family friend and financial backer [that would be Billy Getty, son of billionaire philanthropist, Gordon Getty]. Now, at age 36, he is also the new mayor of SF and a rising star in the Democratic Party. Newsome…says he always tries to set ‘big, hairy [??], audacious goals’ for his business and for himself. ‘I don’t want to have a modest goal and then reach for it,’ says the entrepreneur, whose innovative businesses include a fine dining restaurant that sells wine at retail prices [this is unheard of: our trio of top-of-the line restaurants in Madison marks up at 2 -3 times the retail price, which always makes me ill] and a winery that puts screw caps on a $100 plus cabernet [way to go! Cork spoilage is the single biggest reason why nice bottles of wine sometimes taste like bird bath water; even when the wine survives an imperfect cork, it may still be in some way affected by it. A good way to satisfy yourself that this is true is to blind-taste wine from many bottles coming from the same case, same cellar, same barrel—they wont all taste the same; how can that be? Obviously cork impact].

Stories of this type of energetic enthusiasm for bold reform are rare. Newsome’s ambitions appear to be targeting even higher goals for the future. Can he sustain his fervor for affecting change? He says of himself that he “lives in exclamation points!” How refreshing. I’m such a fan of this type of passion and zest. Surrounding yourself with images of (and contacts with, if you're lucky) people who live “in exclamation points," as opposed to between anti-smiley faces such as this :( , has to be the healthiest way to proceed and create (whatever it is that you are destined to create).
posted by nina, 3/01/2004 09:55:34 AM | link

Reflecting on the Academy Awards 

A reader who has been amused with my Award obsession for a while now suggested that I perhaps should consider switching my focus to the “Independent Spirit Awards” (aired late Saturday night). I must truthfully admit that I had never heard of these awards (possibly because I tuned out at the mere sound of the words “Independent Spirit” in the media, thinking these to be signifiers of some military action in a distant region of the planet). Okay, assuming that these are authentic awards, what is it that sets them apart from the rest? My friend writes that the Independent Spirit Awards were more entertaining in a less formal way, with recognition going to a greater variety of films. And what were the results? Who even showd up? My pal says: “Lost in Translation dominated, and Charlize, looking incredible in jeans and a white blazer, won. Those two darling girls from In America were there.” It does sound like a better version of what I succumb to each year.

It almost made me want to give up on the Academies in the future, but not entirely. For one thing, if you have been watching something regularly since 1976, without a break, it would have to be a pretty miserable experience for you to give it up now. Also, you know that the world (or 1 billion pop, which is a good part of the viewing public) is watching and so you are tracking not only the winners but the possible reaction of those watching the winners.

But it is frustrating when you do tune in and you find that all dresses look alike, all speeches sound alike, and there are NO SURPRISES (except that Sean Penn showed up; A+ for his comment, too). Many will write tomorrow that these were the most boring of all the Oscar shows. Not true for me– I did NOT drift off, there were no long production numbers, and Billy was tame but not sleep-inducing.

Maybe it is more of a milestone than anything else: it’s March (or this year: almost March), we’re almost done with winter, and there is hope: that someone will say something that will change the world in a positive way, that someone will be recognized for a talent that is truly remarkable, that there will be something there to amuse us on that big gray box called the TV.

So, one realized hope out of three isn’t bad, right? And there’s next year to look forward to. Only someone else will have to slaughter the lobsters (see post below). It’s just getting to be too brutal for me.
posted by nina, 3/01/2004 01:17:43 AM | link

Things that a blogger can be grateful for: 

...That a small handful of Academy Award recipients had the drive to include in their message of thanks something/someone other than names of unknown to us people (sincere thanks to moms is a good things, as are messages questioning the existence of WMD);

...That the balance of support v. protest against some of the content of this blog today was kept level at 1:1 (at least this is a guess – I am assuming there was silent support, since people don’t typically write unless they have objections);

...That it is now officially March, a month that portends of good things to come, thereby negating all the bad omens associated with February.
posted by nina, 3/01/2004 12:18:28 AM | link

I'm Nina Camic. I teach law, but also write (here and elsewhere) on a number of non-legal topics. I often cross the ocean, in the stories I tell and the photos I take. My native Poland is a frequent destination.

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