I used to share with a chappie in London who told me one day, "Damian, it's an Oxford world."
We'd been having a discussion about education and universities--I went to what's called in the UK "a redbrick university" and he went to "Oxbridge."
Of course, it was an arrogant remark and I told him so. But it seems to me that remark would now give him a huge bite in the ass.
Aside from the fact it would be more accurate to say "It's a Harvard world", I got to thinking this weekend about what the remark really meant in the context of our so-called elite business schools in the United States, places like the Wharton School, etc.
My conclusion is these business schools have failed this nation.
Why?
Because they have failed to instil values and morals into the men and women streaming out of these institutions into fat cat jobs in Wall Street. It's these same people in pursuit of the almighty dollar (an oxymoran) who caused the financial and world crisis we now finds ourselves in.
And I think I know of what I speak. Because, as a trained attorney, I can honestly say that courses on morality and working for the common good were scant, any teaching on them confined to a mere sixty minutes at most.
So American education needs to get back to the basics and expunge this whole glorified homage greed and 'Individualism'. It's time to teach the next generation attending these ivory towers about doing what's right in life and what;'s good for society.
And one aside. I do not like the Congress imposing punitive taxes against the greedy fat cats who received millions in bonuses not earned. I'd rather we started criminal and civil procedures against these people for negligence, theft and breach of fiduciary duties to their corporations. It can easily be done and that's how we get the money back and these rascals are made to pay.
Sunday
American Country Home For Sale
This gorgeous French Country Style American Home's now For Sale. High ceilings, open plan for modern living, latest amenities and wooden floors throughout. Great local schools.
Situated in the beautiful quiet American Countryside on a wooded 4+ acre lot in famous Bucks County, an hour and twenty minutes from New York City and just under an hour from Philadelphia.
Area abounds with nature and talent--from actors, artists, authors and sculptors. Close to New jersey's Pharmaceutical corridor if you're a techie or corporate director.
And even better, it's in an area of the US that's stable and real estate prices haven't been affected by the recent bust.
Friday
On the wall
She was eighty-three, with sparse gray hair and liver-spotted, bony hands in mid transmute to distasteful claws. Polish on her manicured nails sparkled in the light of the overhead reading lamp and matched her crimson lips. She was rich but had had a hard life in the small Louisiana Bayou town she lived in since girlhood. Her husband was dead and had been a tough man and bit of a racist--a very successful businessman but didn't like 'the colod folk' She did not miss him. She had not grieved his passing. I could relate to what she said. My compassion reared like a cowboy's mustang.
Her granddaughter was living with a man who'd raped a teenage girl and she believed he should be hanged. I don't believe in the death penalty but I didn't object. Her daughter, living in Pennsylvania, is in her sixties and raising her granddaughters, a boy and his older sister, offspring from two separate trysts. She sends clothes and money and these children love their great grandmother. The Louisiana state wanted to take them after the rape verdict and she spirited them away to Virginia. I admired that. Louisiana rearing children? My compassion intensified.
She was an avid fisher woman in her prime. Her husband had a boat. She loved to fish. She loves to eat catfish, crayfish, salmon, orange roughy, has even tried a bit of sand shark. She also loves all animals and donates to the USPCA and Humane Society. She owned dogs and cats. She had six Labradors and still grieves the loss of the last one six years ago, a yellow female that contracted cancer. I sympathized. Spice came to mind and I stopped breathing for a moment.
"My greatest trophies I have on the walls of my living room," she said.
"What did you catch?"
"Two beauties," she said in her Southern drawl. "Real beautiful. Could even be mother and baby because I caught 'em the same day and place. And I brought them in myself. I fished good."
My interest was piqued. "What sort of fish?"
"Dolphins."
"Dolphins?"
Her eyes widened like mine, though with great pride. "Caught them off the coast of Florida thirty years ago."
"Dolphins aren't fish," I said.
"Sure they are. You can't eat 'em, but they is fish all the same. Company love them when they come into my living room."
I retreated to my novel.
Her granddaughter was living with a man who'd raped a teenage girl and she believed he should be hanged. I don't believe in the death penalty but I didn't object. Her daughter, living in Pennsylvania, is in her sixties and raising her granddaughters, a boy and his older sister, offspring from two separate trysts. She sends clothes and money and these children love their great grandmother. The Louisiana state wanted to take them after the rape verdict and she spirited them away to Virginia. I admired that. Louisiana rearing children? My compassion intensified.
She was an avid fisher woman in her prime. Her husband had a boat. She loved to fish. She loves to eat catfish, crayfish, salmon, orange roughy, has even tried a bit of sand shark. She also loves all animals and donates to the USPCA and Humane Society. She owned dogs and cats. She had six Labradors and still grieves the loss of the last one six years ago, a yellow female that contracted cancer. I sympathized. Spice came to mind and I stopped breathing for a moment.
"My greatest trophies I have on the walls of my living room," she said.
"What did you catch?"
"Two beauties," she said in her Southern drawl. "Real beautiful. Could even be mother and baby because I caught 'em the same day and place. And I brought them in myself. I fished good."
My interest was piqued. "What sort of fish?"
"Dolphins."
"Dolphins?"
Her eyes widened like mine, though with great pride. "Caught them off the coast of Florida thirty years ago."
"Dolphins aren't fish," I said.
"Sure they are. You can't eat 'em, but they is fish all the same. Company love them when they come into my living room."
I retreated to my novel.
Monday
A stroll on Bourbon Street
Just back a few days ago from a wonderful trip to New Orleans for Mardi Gras--caught mucho mucho throws (that's a N.O euphemism for beads, flashing lights things and stuffed velveteen crawfish, etc.)
One Mardi Gras highlight was the Zulu Crewe's floats and I even managed to capture the elusive coconut--a black one with "I love New Orleans" painted in gold glitter.)
A funny sighting (or pathetic depending on one's P.O.V) was popping into a bar on Bourbon St in the French Quarter for an afternoon tipple and seeing a middle-aged, very drunk woman dressed like Miss Jean Brodie stuffing a muscular dancing boy's underwear with dollar bills for the privilege of groping his rapidly growing member. Replete with slender fingers, one adorned with a thick wedding band and very decent diamond engagement ring, I was astonished when she gave him ten dollars and asked him to sit on the counter before her. No sooner had he done so than she whipped down the front of his jockstrap and attempted to perform fellatio, which he immediately put an end to--that's not permissible even in the hedonistic FQ
Her friend turned to Larry and I and said after laughing, "Look at my friend, the big slut."
On being refused a mouthful of member, the lady released the overly muscled dancer's jockstrap and was then dragged away by her friend. The pair staggered full of mirth out the door toward another adventure.
A visit to Jackson Square for a rest on the benches proved equally colorful. There a group of religious zealots were brandishing huge 'hate' signs warning about homosexuals journeying to hell while screaming via bullhorn at the crowds about Jesus, getting saved and evil homosexuals. Countering their lecture were a bunch of spirited gay boys and lesbians, some of whom were busy making their own signs. Two portly lesbians staged a kiss-in about six inches from these holy rollers who were as clean cut as neo-Nazis, then were swiftly followed by two gays man dressed in Mardi Gras costumes who then proceeded to energetically faux shag--again inches from said, now bug-eyed evangelicals.
The biggest laugh, though, was on the night President Obama made his first prime-time speech. I can't begin to tell you how much I was entertained by Louisiana's Governor, Bobby Jindal, as he bullshitted and lied his way through a self-serving rebuttal speech that only the staunchest most loyal Republicans, Newt Gingrich and the guy on telly who buys prescription meds without having a prescription could swallow whole.
Lastly, I was very happy to see the city has really recovered from Hurricane Katrina and must say Brad Pitt is doing some fantastic work helping people move into spanking new accomodations in the Ninth Ward. Way to go, Mr. Pitt.
One Mardi Gras highlight was the Zulu Crewe's floats and I even managed to capture the elusive coconut--a black one with "I love New Orleans" painted in gold glitter.)
A funny sighting (or pathetic depending on one's P.O.V) was popping into a bar on Bourbon St in the French Quarter for an afternoon tipple and seeing a middle-aged, very drunk woman dressed like Miss Jean Brodie stuffing a muscular dancing boy's underwear with dollar bills for the privilege of groping his rapidly growing member. Replete with slender fingers, one adorned with a thick wedding band and very decent diamond engagement ring, I was astonished when she gave him ten dollars and asked him to sit on the counter before her. No sooner had he done so than she whipped down the front of his jockstrap and attempted to perform fellatio, which he immediately put an end to--that's not permissible even in the hedonistic FQ
Her friend turned to Larry and I and said after laughing, "Look at my friend, the big slut."
On being refused a mouthful of member, the lady released the overly muscled dancer's jockstrap and was then dragged away by her friend. The pair staggered full of mirth out the door toward another adventure.
A visit to Jackson Square for a rest on the benches proved equally colorful. There a group of religious zealots were brandishing huge 'hate' signs warning about homosexuals journeying to hell while screaming via bullhorn at the crowds about Jesus, getting saved and evil homosexuals. Countering their lecture were a bunch of spirited gay boys and lesbians, some of whom were busy making their own signs. Two portly lesbians staged a kiss-in about six inches from these holy rollers who were as clean cut as neo-Nazis, then were swiftly followed by two gays man dressed in Mardi Gras costumes who then proceeded to energetically faux shag--again inches from said, now bug-eyed evangelicals.
The biggest laugh, though, was on the night President Obama made his first prime-time speech. I can't begin to tell you how much I was entertained by Louisiana's Governor, Bobby Jindal, as he bullshitted and lied his way through a self-serving rebuttal speech that only the staunchest most loyal Republicans, Newt Gingrich and the guy on telly who buys prescription meds without having a prescription could swallow whole.
Lastly, I was very happy to see the city has really recovered from Hurricane Katrina and must say Brad Pitt is doing some fantastic work helping people move into spanking new accomodations in the Ninth Ward. Way to go, Mr. Pitt.
Thursday
He's Just Not That Into You--aka -Don't Go and save your hardearned bucks
I went to see He's just not that into you yesterday.
What a dud. What a bore. The only audience this might appeal to is teenage girls.
Based on a nonfiction book of the same name (if the film kept faithful to the book, then the authors are morons and it's not a surprise publishing's in crisis), the narrative thread (or lack of it) traces a number of twenty-something women in Baltimore trying to work out how guys minds work when it comes to dating.
No cliche is left unturned including the aloof and uncaring heterosexual, the boorish, farting heterosexual male, the effete homosexual with a sibilant affliction and the innocent young woman (think annoying Charlotte in Sex and the City) who has no clue how to interpret the blind dates and calls a bartender she just happens to befriend. Oh, and he falls in love with her in the end. YAWN, YAWN, YAWN.
It's self-indulgent piffle.
Ms. Aniston, whom I like, settles into the well honed role of slightly quirky, slightly befuddled, slightly scatty, lonely twenty something she's cut out for herself. She might like to rethink these roles now she's many nautical miles from that age.
Halfway through Larry turned to me and asked at the exact moment I was thinking the very same thought--"Is this ever going to end?"
At over two hours, it's value for money if you like the decidedly mediocre.
What a dud. What a bore. The only audience this might appeal to is teenage girls.
Based on a nonfiction book of the same name (if the film kept faithful to the book, then the authors are morons and it's not a surprise publishing's in crisis), the narrative thread (or lack of it) traces a number of twenty-something women in Baltimore trying to work out how guys minds work when it comes to dating.
No cliche is left unturned including the aloof and uncaring heterosexual, the boorish, farting heterosexual male, the effete homosexual with a sibilant affliction and the innocent young woman (think annoying Charlotte in Sex and the City) who has no clue how to interpret the blind dates and calls a bartender she just happens to befriend. Oh, and he falls in love with her in the end. YAWN, YAWN, YAWN.
It's self-indulgent piffle.
Ms. Aniston, whom I like, settles into the well honed role of slightly quirky, slightly befuddled, slightly scatty, lonely twenty something she's cut out for herself. She might like to rethink these roles now she's many nautical miles from that age.
Halfway through Larry turned to me and asked at the exact moment I was thinking the very same thought--"Is this ever going to end?"
At over two hours, it's value for money if you like the decidedly mediocre.
Tuesday
The crash
It all happened so quietly, so unexpectedly.
It began as flickering, something one dismisses as a quirk.
The next quirk was that the photographs I use as my screen saver disappeared--utterly.
When I next booted up, they'd returned.
And then on Monday came the belligerence. The disk simply didn't want to behave. It made the cursor disappear into corners of the screen, made Word behave like a spoilt child, made the Mac operate at a snail's pace.
And yet, I continued to think the computer is behaving quirky. I'm just going to keep switching it off until it behaves.
And then on Thursday, it became slow and slower and then didn't work at all. And when I switched it off, it didn't return and all I saw was a blinking question mark.
The silence was devastating, the consequences unbelievable.
Off I took it to the Mac dealer. Technicians really are a different breed.
"Oh, looks like it might be a failing disk. If it is, it'll be hard to get you another."
"Why?
"Old technology."
It was made in 2003"
"Old technology."
"How much?"
"We have to diagnose first."
"Okay?"
Next morning---ring, ring...ring, ring--ring,ring.
"Hello"
"Jason from the Mac shop"
"Hey."
"It's a disk failure. It'll be two hundred bucks. Do you have your files backed up?"
"No. I thought my flashcard was backing up and just found out yesterday when I checked it at a friend's that it wasn't"
"Not so good."
"Can you recover""
"Probably not. It won't mount. We'll have to end it to a outside date recovery people."
"How much?"
"$600."
"WHAT?"
"That's only if they don't have to use a clean room."
"Did you say 'clean room'?"
"It's where they wear white suits and work in sanitized room. You've seen them on CSI, no?"
"How much?"
"Up to $2000."
SHIT...F***. SHIT." Silence. "Listen, put in a new hard drive. I've gotta think about the recovery thing."
"Take your time."
"F***"
It began as flickering, something one dismisses as a quirk.
The next quirk was that the photographs I use as my screen saver disappeared--utterly.
When I next booted up, they'd returned.
And then on Monday came the belligerence. The disk simply didn't want to behave. It made the cursor disappear into corners of the screen, made Word behave like a spoilt child, made the Mac operate at a snail's pace.
And yet, I continued to think the computer is behaving quirky. I'm just going to keep switching it off until it behaves.
And then on Thursday, it became slow and slower and then didn't work at all. And when I switched it off, it didn't return and all I saw was a blinking question mark.
The silence was devastating, the consequences unbelievable.
Off I took it to the Mac dealer. Technicians really are a different breed.
"Oh, looks like it might be a failing disk. If it is, it'll be hard to get you another."
"Why?
"Old technology."
It was made in 2003"
"Old technology."
"How much?"
"We have to diagnose first."
"Okay?"
Next morning---ring, ring...ring, ring--ring,ring.
"Hello"
"Jason from the Mac shop"
"Hey."
"It's a disk failure. It'll be two hundred bucks. Do you have your files backed up?"
"No. I thought my flashcard was backing up and just found out yesterday when I checked it at a friend's that it wasn't"
"Not so good."
"Can you recover""
"Probably not. It won't mount. We'll have to end it to a outside date recovery people."
"How much?"
"$600."
"WHAT?"
"That's only if they don't have to use a clean room."
"Did you say 'clean room'?"
"It's where they wear white suits and work in sanitized room. You've seen them on CSI, no?"
"How much?"
"Up to $2000."
SHIT...F***. SHIT." Silence. "Listen, put in a new hard drive. I've gotta think about the recovery thing."
"Take your time."
"F***"
Friday
The mechanic's tale
Nothing worse than having car problems when you don't know too much about cars.
I wish I'd watched my Dad more as a kid when he did things under the hood.
Taking the car down to the local tire supplier--they've got great prices but they're die hard Republicans and seething about Obama's victory and his stimulas package--I was informed teh front two tires were shot and the back two had about a month left.
They gave me a quote and had them changed, then booked the car in for a wheel alignment.
Arriving the next morning, I said, "By the way, the car makes a strange knocking sound when I brake or it decelerates."
We'll check it out for ya'"
An hour later, I was summoned out to the garage where the car's raised high on automatic jacks and the mechanic pointed to things near the wheel called rods and said "they're broken. New ones will sort your problem."
What can you do? You've got to trust your mechanic and try and look knowledgeable at the same time so they don't smell "idiot."
Two hundred dollars later, I drive home very happy that it's not the transmission which even I know is tres, tres expensive. Halfway home, there's a noise....yes, the old familiar knock sounds again. And then it sounds again and again...only worse this time because there's an accompanying rattle.
This morning I arrive down and the lady at reception who knows every tire and bolt in a car says,"You're back."
"Yeah, it wasn't the rods."
"I'll get Fred."
While Fred examines the car, I wait and seethe as I listen to one of the workers talk about how he and his wife going out to dinner "tonight with their Democrat friends" and they are not going to talk about the stimulus package.
"I hear ya'" said receptionist. "And what about that woman in California who just had eight kids and has six at home and no man. Disgusting, that is."
Yeah, yeah," said her colleague. "Who's gonna pay for them?"
"We are," said a customer. "She's on welfare. Our tax dollars."
I realize this could be true and do have sympathy here.
"They need to lower taxes. That works. I want no government in my pocket," said the receptionist.
Thinking about Bush's tax rebate last summer and how ineffective it was, I just bit my tongue.
Fred comes in. "Can you come out to the garage a sec'?"
This means it's gonna cost me. Sure enough, I'm underneath the car again looking at some other curious bits and bobs that could be space shuttle parts for all I know as he tells me my transmission is leaking fluid and the mounts supporting the chassis are a bit dicey.
The logical side of my brain wonders why he didn't see and mention that yesterday but I nod sagely. I also wonder now the economy's in free fall, are they taking me for a ride. The other part of my brain, the wanna everybody to be nice and caring, thinks they're being helpful and doing the right thing.
"I see," I say as I look into the black oily guts of my car. I really wish I'd watched Dad more often and not thought it boring when he worked on the family car.
It's going to coast another $400.00 to repair ands even then it might be the transmission.
"Give me the quote in writing," I said. "I'm gonna get the transmission checked first.
"Not a bad idea." he said. "We don't do those."
So off to the transmission shop next week.
I wish I'd watched my Dad more as a kid when he did things under the hood.
Taking the car down to the local tire supplier--they've got great prices but they're die hard Republicans and seething about Obama's victory and his stimulas package--I was informed teh front two tires were shot and the back two had about a month left.
They gave me a quote and had them changed, then booked the car in for a wheel alignment.
Arriving the next morning, I said, "By the way, the car makes a strange knocking sound when I brake or it decelerates."
We'll check it out for ya'"
An hour later, I was summoned out to the garage where the car's raised high on automatic jacks and the mechanic pointed to things near the wheel called rods and said "they're broken. New ones will sort your problem."
What can you do? You've got to trust your mechanic and try and look knowledgeable at the same time so they don't smell "idiot."
Two hundred dollars later, I drive home very happy that it's not the transmission which even I know is tres, tres expensive. Halfway home, there's a noise....yes, the old familiar knock sounds again. And then it sounds again and again...only worse this time because there's an accompanying rattle.
This morning I arrive down and the lady at reception who knows every tire and bolt in a car says,"You're back."
"Yeah, it wasn't the rods."
"I'll get Fred."
While Fred examines the car, I wait and seethe as I listen to one of the workers talk about how he and his wife going out to dinner "tonight with their Democrat friends" and they are not going to talk about the stimulus package.
"I hear ya'" said receptionist. "And what about that woman in California who just had eight kids and has six at home and no man. Disgusting, that is."
Yeah, yeah," said her colleague. "Who's gonna pay for them?"
"We are," said a customer. "She's on welfare. Our tax dollars."
I realize this could be true and do have sympathy here.
"They need to lower taxes. That works. I want no government in my pocket," said the receptionist.
Thinking about Bush's tax rebate last summer and how ineffective it was, I just bit my tongue.
Fred comes in. "Can you come out to the garage a sec'?"
This means it's gonna cost me. Sure enough, I'm underneath the car again looking at some other curious bits and bobs that could be space shuttle parts for all I know as he tells me my transmission is leaking fluid and the mounts supporting the chassis are a bit dicey.
The logical side of my brain wonders why he didn't see and mention that yesterday but I nod sagely. I also wonder now the economy's in free fall, are they taking me for a ride. The other part of my brain, the wanna everybody to be nice and caring, thinks they're being helpful and doing the right thing.
"I see," I say as I look into the black oily guts of my car. I really wish I'd watched Dad more often and not thought it boring when he worked on the family car.
It's going to coast another $400.00 to repair ands even then it might be the transmission.
"Give me the quote in writing," I said. "I'm gonna get the transmission checked first.
"Not a bad idea." he said. "We don't do those."
So off to the transmission shop next week.
Wednesday
Onward
What a great day for the republic yesterday was.
What a delicious sight at the mall as over two million people gathered to weep with joy and celebrate and hope.
What a delicious sight to see a true middle class/working class family, an African American family with no wealth and privilege, move into the White House.
What a reminder of the fallibility of humankind to hear the Chief Justice flub the words of the oath of office and to see the President at first hesitate and also stumble...and how it brought smiles to even the most cynical.
And what an inspiring measured speech, one that let the people know he understood the people are hurting and change was going to come and America was immediately charting a different course to rectify the wrongs of the previous administration and would take its place as a leader in the civilized world, with the proviso that leadership is earned not automatically given.
And then came the executive order that implementation of all Bush executive orders given in last few days were to be 'frozen'. A standard policy, but still satisfying.
The first grain of sand passing through the neck of the newly turned egg timer.
Of course, the usual laments are in abundance today, that the President was short in information about how he would finance such an ambitious agenda.
Is that the purpose of an inaugural speech? I think not.
And the greedy reckless ones in Wall Street panicked and let the Dow fall by the largest number of points in any Presidential inauguration.
Maybe it was fear that the day of reckoning is nigh.
What a wonderful day for the restored democracy.
Onward.
What a delicious sight at the mall as over two million people gathered to weep with joy and celebrate and hope.
What a delicious sight to see a true middle class/working class family, an African American family with no wealth and privilege, move into the White House.
What a reminder of the fallibility of humankind to hear the Chief Justice flub the words of the oath of office and to see the President at first hesitate and also stumble...and how it brought smiles to even the most cynical.
And what an inspiring measured speech, one that let the people know he understood the people are hurting and change was going to come and America was immediately charting a different course to rectify the wrongs of the previous administration and would take its place as a leader in the civilized world, with the proviso that leadership is earned not automatically given.
And then came the executive order that implementation of all Bush executive orders given in last few days were to be 'frozen'. A standard policy, but still satisfying.
The first grain of sand passing through the neck of the newly turned egg timer.
Of course, the usual laments are in abundance today, that the President was short in information about how he would finance such an ambitious agenda.
Is that the purpose of an inaugural speech? I think not.
And the greedy reckless ones in Wall Street panicked and let the Dow fall by the largest number of points in any Presidential inauguration.
Maybe it was fear that the day of reckoning is nigh.
What a wonderful day for the restored democracy.
Onward.
Monday
Is there really a thing called women's fiction
So I took the plunge and decided to open the covers of my first 'women's fiction' novel. It's My Sister's Keeper by Jodi Picoult.
I started reading it while on the elliptical at the 'Y'--the true acid test of a good book, because if it doesn't make the time fly, out it goes.
Astonishingly, my first fifty minute workout went by really quickly. I'd even done the five minute cool-down without realizing it--and I was stepping away and no 'burned calories' were being recorded because the damned machine had switched off.
Well and good.
As I delved deeper, I began to anticipate what was going to happen--not so good. But I have to say her writing is excellent. She can sure turn a phrase and some of her similies and metaphors are really good--if a bit abundant, something I was accused of by an editor on one occasion. And a few are a stretch, but every writer can't hit a perfect score on that count.
I find her woman characters are fantastically drawn, but am less convinced by the lead male character, Cameron, and Sara's husband. Their sensibilities and thoughts are too much what a woman would want them to be and didn't ring real for me.
However, these are minor quibbles and I will definitely read another Picoult novel.
Men looking for an ice breaker at the gym or wherever might consider carrying about one of her novels. It's extraordinary the number of women who've approached me to ask how I'm enjoying the book and then begin chatting as if I'm their best friend, even women who've ignored me at the gym for the past three years.
Yes Virginia, there really is a thing called women's fiction.
I started reading it while on the elliptical at the 'Y'--the true acid test of a good book, because if it doesn't make the time fly, out it goes.
Astonishingly, my first fifty minute workout went by really quickly. I'd even done the five minute cool-down without realizing it--and I was stepping away and no 'burned calories' were being recorded because the damned machine had switched off.
Well and good.
As I delved deeper, I began to anticipate what was going to happen--not so good. But I have to say her writing is excellent. She can sure turn a phrase and some of her similies and metaphors are really good--if a bit abundant, something I was accused of by an editor on one occasion. And a few are a stretch, but every writer can't hit a perfect score on that count.
I find her woman characters are fantastically drawn, but am less convinced by the lead male character, Cameron, and Sara's husband. Their sensibilities and thoughts are too much what a woman would want them to be and didn't ring real for me.
However, these are minor quibbles and I will definitely read another Picoult novel.
Men looking for an ice breaker at the gym or wherever might consider carrying about one of her novels. It's extraordinary the number of women who've approached me to ask how I'm enjoying the book and then begin chatting as if I'm their best friend, even women who've ignored me at the gym for the past three years.
Yes Virginia, there really is a thing called women's fiction.
Wintuk and more
We went up to see Wintuk at Madison Square Garden over the weekend. I'd never seen a Cirque du Soleil production before so I was quite excited.
It's the story of a Nordic boy's quest to have snow in his village for Christmas. At first I was apprehensive when the performance began and three skate boarders began doing tricks--having watched kids outside the National Theatre in London doing the same kinds of tricks, I wasn't very impressed. Fancy turns on skateboards just don't cut the mustard anymore.
But things soon picked up when the four streetlights came to life and an array of performers came on and did their acts, all accompanied to the ethereal musical scores and chanting one associates with Cirque du Soleil.
My appetite is now whetted for a trip to Las Vegas to see one of their truly spectacular shows.
On teh subject of appetites, friends had suggested restaurants to visit for lunch. But, wanting something different, I researched the net and found a great Indonesian restaurant in Hell's Kitchen just off Restaurant Row. Time Out had given it a good review so Larry and I went there with open minds and hungry tummies. As this was Larry's first Indonesian meal (I'd been to a really good one in Amsterdam), we settled for one of their special menu's, which contained samplings of various dishes from fish to chicken.
Excellent, and all washed down with crisp Indonesian beer. Well, all except teh delicious banana in a filo-like pastry desert.
It's the story of a Nordic boy's quest to have snow in his village for Christmas. At first I was apprehensive when the performance began and three skate boarders began doing tricks--having watched kids outside the National Theatre in London doing the same kinds of tricks, I wasn't very impressed. Fancy turns on skateboards just don't cut the mustard anymore.
But things soon picked up when the four streetlights came to life and an array of performers came on and did their acts, all accompanied to the ethereal musical scores and chanting one associates with Cirque du Soleil.
My appetite is now whetted for a trip to Las Vegas to see one of their truly spectacular shows.
On teh subject of appetites, friends had suggested restaurants to visit for lunch. But, wanting something different, I researched the net and found a great Indonesian restaurant in Hell's Kitchen just off Restaurant Row. Time Out had given it a good review so Larry and I went there with open minds and hungry tummies. As this was Larry's first Indonesian meal (I'd been to a really good one in Amsterdam), we settled for one of their special menu's, which contained samplings of various dishes from fish to chicken.
Excellent, and all washed down with crisp Indonesian beer. Well, all except teh delicious banana in a filo-like pastry desert.
Friday
Winning the 'Lottery'
Lottery "My name is Perry L. Crandall and I am not retarded."
So begins this debut novel I've just read that's best described as wonderfully quirky. It's called Lottery by Patricia Wood and it unfurls in a town by the sea in Washington State with a quick jaunt on vacation to Hawaii with his friend Keith and, oh, his grandmother's ashes.
As the title suggests, the plot revolves around the protagonist--who's slow but innocently smart--winning twelve million dollars in the state lottery. Of course, once the press reports the winner, out of the woodwork come a flood of letters pleading for help. There's also his avaricious family to contend with, including two brothers, their grasping wives and a mother who's abandoned him. Brought up by his hardy grandmother who's knowledgeable in seafaring and has home-schooled Perry, he's able to hold down a job at Holstead's and is remarkably skilled at coming up with new business ideas which flourish, much to the delight of his boss, Gary.
When his Grandmother dies, the fun begins pre his winning the Lottery when his family--whom he refers to as his brother-cousins--swoop down and make him sign the house she's left to Perry over to them. Matters escalate after the Lottery win, though Perry has Keith and his boss looking out for him as best they can.
An enjoyable, compelling first novel and a wonderful stocking filler.
And here's a Christmas/Holiday bonus--an interview with the author.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
DMN: You decided to make Perry, a young man with learning disabilities, your protagonist which was intriguing. What inspired you to do this?
PW: I have taught for many years and my PhD work was in disability and diversity and my brother in law had severe Down syndrome. I saw how people who are perceived as different are marginalized by our society. I purposely didn’t label Perry- yes he has cognitive challenges- yes he is slow and yes there are many things he doesn’t understand. He sees the world differently and I felt that would make an interesting and challenging character. Both one who was limited in terms of understanding yet astute in his observations.
DMN: His personality is well developed as the book advances and we do care very much about him, especially when we see how callous his family behave. Have you had experience working with people with learning disabilities or did you base the character primarily on research?
PW: While as I said before I do have experiences in these areas, essentially Perry came straight out of my imagination. In my work I did see students living with aunts and uncles, with grandparents, with friends and while generally people think it’s exaggerated for fiction’s sake, it really is how it happens to many children- especially to young adults who have special needs but who are able for one reason or another to live on their own. If you want to see how society still treats these people -- go to Good Will Industries and watch what happens to them when they get off work. There are still many unkind people in this world and it isn’t just confined to the school playground.
DMN: Much of the novel takes place around the world of sailing and it is clear the protagonist is extremely proficient in that world. I know you own a yacht. Have you always been interested in sailing?
PW: When you talk about me owning a yacht it sounds quite luxurious but I assure you the reality is far more pedestrian! I have lived by the sea most of my life and love it- and my husband has always been an avid sailor. Our 48-foot ketch ORION is quite ordinary by sailboat standards. We do most of the work ourselves. It’s our home and we live aboard which is a life style decision. It?s small and quite energy efficient. There’s something freeing about an unconventional living space that enhances creativity- ORION is where we live. She is our home. It was a natural extension of that to have Perry a sailor as well. It is an endeavor that rewards feel rather than intelligence. To be able to sense and feel the way the wind blows is unique and does not depend on ‘smartness.’
DMN: Perry's mother is a very unsympathetic character even though we do not get to know her in the book. Did you deliberately choose to have her absent and, if so, why?
PW: This is a little known reality in the world of special needs children- having both a mother and father is a luxury. Mothers and fathers - through divorce and poverty do abandon even normally abled children. Many of my students lived with their grandparents. I’m of the generation where we often have our children’s children AND have to take care of our own parents. I know those who reject this scenario and leave- It happens all the time. Oftentimes we chose not to see it.
With respect to the characterization, since my narrator is both unreliable AND cognitively challenged he sees many things in black and white- those people who he doesn’t have much to do with are sketchily drawn because Perry doesn’t do much conjecturing about what they’re really like or their motivations. I had to be true to this. I also wanted to give the book the feeling of a parable where good and evil are more distinct and there are fewer shades of gray.
DMN: I read you have gone to book signings by sea as well as land. Do you set up your signing schedule so you can sail from Hawaii?
PW: No not at all lol! It’s very difficult to make long passages like that. My home stays moored at the dock unless we do a short day or weekend sail. But I have done book clubs aboard boats and that has been great fun. Book clubs to me are a huge bonus. I enjoy interacting with readers and discussing aspects of my novel.
When groups contact me I can usually be present by speaker phone and sometimes ichat or SKYPE.
DMN: Do you write every day?
PW: Yes. I may not write on my current work in progress but I do write every day. I have several novels at various points in the editing process and tend to write a horribly disjointed first draft to get my ideas down and then spend copious amounts of time revising and rewriting.
DMN: What's coming next?
PW: A coming of age story about impossible dreams with an unusual narrator that’s set in the 1980’s.
Thanks Patricia, and good luck.
Saturday
Getting a grip
Yesterday we learned 500,000 people lost their jobs in November. And that the December figure will also be enormous. There's even talk that the unemployment figure will be over 3,000,000 by June 09.
Not good. There's going to be a lot of hardship.
But, on the other hand, the economy needs to realign--reinvent itself, even.
Isn't over-consumption also a blight?
WHY do we need to change our cars every two years, or buy the latest kitchen and electronic gadgets?
Maybe we need to let GM, Chrysler and Ford go bankrupt.
They've been arrogant, employed armies of lawyers to sue in state courts when states like California wanted to reduce emissions and clean our air. They fought the EPA.
They made the ridiculous Hummer for ridiculous customers.
WHY can't we get our washing machines and TVs repaired like they did in prior generations?
I burst out laughing the other day when I heard an airhead mother complain on the telly that her family have to cut back--they'd have to buy cheaper groceries and clothing and stop going to Borders and Barnes and Noble.
Hey, cancel your cable bill and throw away the cell phone plans--it's becoming more apparent they cause cancer of the brain anyway. Let your kids read. Encourage them to play outside instead of becoming obese couch potatoes.
WHY can't we use cash more often than we use credit cards and stop lining the pockets of MasterCard and Visa?
WHAT'S wrong with saving some of our money so we don't saddle the next generation and the next with our wanton debt?
Aren't we supposed to go green?
Going green involves sacrifice and true responsibility.
It means less Mercedes, Landrovers and Rangerovers and more compact cars. Europeans get it.
Is anyone really impressed by large or expensive cars nowadays?
I don't believe so.
Well, maybe the gullible or noveau riche.
'Let's get a grip' should be the motto.
Not good. There's going to be a lot of hardship.
But, on the other hand, the economy needs to realign--reinvent itself, even.
Isn't over-consumption also a blight?
WHY do we need to change our cars every two years, or buy the latest kitchen and electronic gadgets?
Maybe we need to let GM, Chrysler and Ford go bankrupt.
They've been arrogant, employed armies of lawyers to sue in state courts when states like California wanted to reduce emissions and clean our air. They fought the EPA.
They made the ridiculous Hummer for ridiculous customers.
WHY can't we get our washing machines and TVs repaired like they did in prior generations?
I burst out laughing the other day when I heard an airhead mother complain on the telly that her family have to cut back--they'd have to buy cheaper groceries and clothing and stop going to Borders and Barnes and Noble.
Hey, cancel your cable bill and throw away the cell phone plans--it's becoming more apparent they cause cancer of the brain anyway. Let your kids read. Encourage them to play outside instead of becoming obese couch potatoes.
WHY can't we use cash more often than we use credit cards and stop lining the pockets of MasterCard and Visa?
WHAT'S wrong with saving some of our money so we don't saddle the next generation and the next with our wanton debt?
Aren't we supposed to go green?
Going green involves sacrifice and true responsibility.
It means less Mercedes, Landrovers and Rangerovers and more compact cars. Europeans get it.
Is anyone really impressed by large or expensive cars nowadays?
I don't believe so.
Well, maybe the gullible or noveau riche.
'Let's get a grip' should be the motto.
Monday
Introducing Kerrouet House
My good friends Niall and Poul have opened their culinary school at Kerrouet House in Brittany, France.
Check out their link Kerrouet House on my General Blogs sidebar to see what's going on and how you can have a great vacation in rural France while at the same time learning to cook gourmet.
The first part's in French. Just scroll down to get the English parts.
Merci!
Check out their link Kerrouet House on my General Blogs sidebar to see what's going on and how you can have a great vacation in rural France while at the same time learning to cook gourmet.
The first part's in French. Just scroll down to get the English parts.
Merci!
Back in the USA
I returned to the United States last week and find myself trying to start a new project this morning. It is something I have mulled for the past two weeks yet it is difficult to begin because so much of my head is still back in Ireland. I see the churchyard and fringe of sturdy beech trees in front of which my father lies sleeping. I see the flagstone path up to his grave which I helped to lay in conjunction with my youngest brother Dermot and brother-in-law Michael and my nephews. I see my mother sitting alone in the living room saying her novenas, praying for me, for Dad, fore all of us. I see Siobhan hugging Max, the lovable puppy she fell in love with at first glance despite her insisting my nephew had to have a dog that wouldn't shed. I see Floss, the Springer Spaniel puppy my brotehr Dermot's children had to get when they knew their cousin had a new puppy. I see the enclosures my father built for the puppies just before his death. I see my sister Deirdre at work in the broadband I helped set up for her. I see my brother Seamus wait fro the letter telling him he can come up for the epidural to Belfast for the epidural that hopefully will take away the pain in his back. I see Dermot gazing at our Dad's photograph on his bedside table before tuirning off his light.
Time will let us all move on, but he will be with us and we will never forget him.
Time will let us all move on, but he will be with us and we will never forget him.
Tomorrow
Tomorrow is an exciting day, an opportunity for the citizens of the United States to renounce the horrid mistakes and deliberate cruel calculations of the past eight years, to overcome racism as much as we can, to move forward in the full spirit of the Founding Fathers, to kick start our sick economy, to look after the less privileged and sick among us, to behave with a conscience, act with full respect for international laws and our obligations under fair treaties and restore our leadership and trust abroad.
Let us hope we do it.
I wish for a newly organized House and Senate with filibuster proof majorities, or one where honest and conscientious moderate Republicans need have no fear to vote with the new party in power to move this country quickly forward. It is necessary to relax the power of wisely inserted checks and balances among the branches of government for a very short period when we have been driven to edge of a dark and unpredictable abyss. Four years will be enough time to do this necessary work.
Let us hope we do it.
I wish for a newly organized House and Senate with filibuster proof majorities, or one where honest and conscientious moderate Republicans need have no fear to vote with the new party in power to move this country quickly forward. It is necessary to relax the power of wisely inserted checks and balances among the branches of government for a very short period when we have been driven to edge of a dark and unpredictable abyss. Four years will be enough time to do this necessary work.
Tuesday
SHAME ON FOX NEWS
At home with my family during this difficult time, I have been watching the American election campaign from a distance. My parents have Sky and I am obliged to watch the Fox News.
Until now, I had heard and read about how bigoted Fox News is. We have a local Fox station in the States, but it is not prejudiced and covers local issues. They are not considered one of the major networks.
I have been stunned by the blatant anti-Obama and Democratic Party rhetoric that is occurring at this station. And deliberate mis-information and skewed polls are being fed the audience, more so now that Obama is beginning to surge in the polls. Moreover there is NO attempt at journalistic or editorial impartiality--Geraldine Ferraro is their only token democrat of any repute and she tries her best to give the Democratic opinion against the snide comments of anchors.
Shame on Fox News. I am disgusted to the cusp of anger. A day of reckoning is due from the regulators they so hate.
Until now, I had heard and read about how bigoted Fox News is. We have a local Fox station in the States, but it is not prejudiced and covers local issues. They are not considered one of the major networks.
I have been stunned by the blatant anti-Obama and Democratic Party rhetoric that is occurring at this station. And deliberate mis-information and skewed polls are being fed the audience, more so now that Obama is beginning to surge in the polls. Moreover there is NO attempt at journalistic or editorial impartiality--Geraldine Ferraro is their only token democrat of any repute and she tries her best to give the Democratic opinion against the snide comments of anchors.
Shame on Fox News. I am disgusted to the cusp of anger. A day of reckoning is due from the regulators they so hate.
Wednesday
An update
Due to the death of my beloved father James Francis, I have not been maintaining this blog.
Posting will resume at some future point.
Posting will resume at some future point.
Saturday
Who'll be President Round 1
Last night's debate was meant to be about foreign policy, which no one wanted to hear about because this time it really is "the economy, stupid."
I mean, without a healthy economy, we won't need to discuss foreign policy issues, right?
Right.
On balance, I'd say McCain came off a hair's breath better than Obama in that he did look more presidential than I'd thought he would. (Our expectations are that Obama does already look and behave presidential at all times, so that's why McCain gets the edge here.)
Rudeness award also goes to McCain who failed to make eye contact with Obama, nor did he exercise common courtesy in using his first name even on one occasion.
McCain failed to brand Obama as a greenhorn, his failure helped in part by the fact he could not pronounce the name of the Iranian and Pakistani presidents.
Obama failed to get his rebuttals across during the remaining moments of the 'five minute' open floor because he was behaving too gentlemanly. In a crucial debate, get your point across Mate or the people won't know. McCain was very effective in this strategy and Obama needs to become more assertive here.
Next up is Biden v Palin. That will be most interesting. Can't wait.
I mean, without a healthy economy, we won't need to discuss foreign policy issues, right?
Right.
On balance, I'd say McCain came off a hair's breath better than Obama in that he did look more presidential than I'd thought he would. (Our expectations are that Obama does already look and behave presidential at all times, so that's why McCain gets the edge here.)
Rudeness award also goes to McCain who failed to make eye contact with Obama, nor did he exercise common courtesy in using his first name even on one occasion.
McCain failed to brand Obama as a greenhorn, his failure helped in part by the fact he could not pronounce the name of the Iranian and Pakistani presidents.
Obama failed to get his rebuttals across during the remaining moments of the 'five minute' open floor because he was behaving too gentlemanly. In a crucial debate, get your point across Mate or the people won't know. McCain was very effective in this strategy and Obama needs to become more assertive here.
Next up is Biden v Palin. That will be most interesting. Can't wait.
Monday
(Marginally less) Scarey days II
So, the meltdown has been avoided or, er, postponed.
For once both parties--well, the sensible House and Senate members of each party--have decided this is about America and not partisan politics and will work together on the bail-out.
I want the Democrats (and the sensible Republicans on the Sunday Morning shows yesterday) to stick to their guns and insist:
1. No golden parachutes for the Wall Street "captains" whose greed and ignorance got us here, and reform to establish proper and moral methods of compensation for these people. Fear of interfering with free market forces be damned. We've been down that road and it didn't work.
2. Relief for the hundreds of thousands of people facing foreclosure of their homes.
3. Strict governmental oversight.
It doesn't matter that a deal doesn't get down within two or three days as Treasury Secretary Paulson wants/insists. The days of this administration TELLING people what they need and want are over.
Barney Frank and Nancy Pelosi came across as people determined to get these three demands into any bill. He is knowledgeable in finance and we can wait a couple of weeks to get the bill drafted properly. Congress can stray another week. They'll still have five weeks left to get what they need to say to their individual districts before the elections.
Oh, and with the above three provisions contained in a bill, the bill will be clean.
For once both parties--well, the sensible House and Senate members of each party--have decided this is about America and not partisan politics and will work together on the bail-out.
I want the Democrats (and the sensible Republicans on the Sunday Morning shows yesterday) to stick to their guns and insist:
1. No golden parachutes for the Wall Street "captains" whose greed and ignorance got us here, and reform to establish proper and moral methods of compensation for these people. Fear of interfering with free market forces be damned. We've been down that road and it didn't work.
2. Relief for the hundreds of thousands of people facing foreclosure of their homes.
3. Strict governmental oversight.
It doesn't matter that a deal doesn't get down within two or three days as Treasury Secretary Paulson wants/insists. The days of this administration TELLING people what they need and want are over.
Barney Frank and Nancy Pelosi came across as people determined to get these three demands into any bill. He is knowledgeable in finance and we can wait a couple of weeks to get the bill drafted properly. Congress can stray another week. They'll still have five weeks left to get what they need to say to their individual districts before the elections.
Oh, and with the above three provisions contained in a bill, the bill will be clean.
Friday
Is your doggie chattel?
Saw an interesting segment on the telly the other night about people divorcing and their animals.
Apparently some married couples and co-habitees, not content to cause huge anguish (and damage) to their kids by raucously playing out the sad demise of their relationship, now are using their family pets as opportunities to inflict distress on the former 'beloved other half'. Some of them take off with the dog and cat and refuse to give the other partner visiting rights.
It's happening so regularly that people (including some judges) involved in sorting out the mess are beginning to wonder if the law that dogs and cats are chattel shouldn't change. By chattel, I mean possessions. Currently, the law is that dogs and cats are 'things' and the party who bought the dog or cat is the legal owner in law, regardless of whether or not the other partner cared or loved it.
The reasoning behind this sea change is that dogs and cats are really regarded as family members nowadays and should be treated in the same way as children when it comes to divorce/separation.
I agree a change is needed. The law's an ass here. (No pun intended.)
Apparently some married couples and co-habitees, not content to cause huge anguish (and damage) to their kids by raucously playing out the sad demise of their relationship, now are using their family pets as opportunities to inflict distress on the former 'beloved other half'. Some of them take off with the dog and cat and refuse to give the other partner visiting rights.
It's happening so regularly that people (including some judges) involved in sorting out the mess are beginning to wonder if the law that dogs and cats are chattel shouldn't change. By chattel, I mean possessions. Currently, the law is that dogs and cats are 'things' and the party who bought the dog or cat is the legal owner in law, regardless of whether or not the other partner cared or loved it.
The reasoning behind this sea change is that dogs and cats are really regarded as family members nowadays and should be treated in the same way as children when it comes to divorce/separation.
I agree a change is needed. The law's an ass here. (No pun intended.)
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