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.

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.

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.

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.

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!

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.

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.

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.”

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?

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?

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.”

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.