“Peace on earth, good-will to men (and women).” That may have been all well and good for H. W. Longfellow but H.W. didn’t have to survive a 4-day holiday weekend with your relatives. You know, all those folks you see once a year who reinforce your suspicions that you must have been adopted. My advice, suck it up whilst wafting a healthy portion of Wassail. Make it fun. Inject fun foreign phrases into a fatuous colloquy with the likes of Uncle Bob and Cousin Feather. The following is just a sample of the fun you can have.
“Another Christmas at Grandpa Gorp’s. Lasciate ogni speranza voi ch’entrate.”
To your bum of a brother-in-law: “Entre nous, celebrations tout ensemble are a trial. The contretemps between Spiro and my sister-in-law Flo was a mauvais quart d’heure. Spiro’s such a flâneur! I always say timeo Danaos et dona ferentes. From the look of the presents they give I believe his wife shops mont-de-piétés.”
To your brother Oscar: “As for sister Sue’s offspring sauve qui peut! Children do not feature in my Weltanschauung. In nuce I say oderint dum metuant. Jane tried to foist that dooly diaper-full on me at lunch. Noli me tangere.”
To your cousin Geoffrey: “Did you get a load of Winston’s latest fiancé? The décolletage! That femme fatale is really embonpoint. As for how long his romance will last, les jeux sont faits. Winston’s such a soi-disant bon vivant. Of course, it’s not for us to judge. Chacun à son gout.”
To your Mom: “That salon de refuses Marcia brought home for the Saturnalia festivities are hic et ubique. I think the tall, dour one is nothing less than a anguis in herba. It is 'infra dig' pour passer le temps with such a canaille. As the years pass Marcia goes de pis en pis. She treats Grandpa Gorp’s home like a maison de santé for her friends.”
To all: “Ah well, it’s always charmant to toast a votre santé. Vive la bagatelle! As for myself, dum spiro, spero. Joyeux Noël. Phagomen kai piomen, aurion gar thanoumetha.”
Sprinkle those bon mots early and often and I guarantee you'll find H. W.'s 'Peace'. Good will is not all it's cracked up to be anyway.
Happy looking it all up…
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Monday, November 09, 2009
Planting Daffodils in November
Finally the yard chores are finished. The windows have been washed and the lawn furniture put away. I just planted 27 daffodil bulbs. Experience has taught me to forget any landscape plan that includes tulips, however beautiful. The squirrels have sated themselves on our acorns. I’m certainly not going to feed them tulip bulbs!
Despite my hopes for spring flowers, November is the time to contemplate death and dying. Plants have withered; leaves have turned and fallen, their brittle sound follows wind and footstep; the lovelier birds migrated towards sunnier climes weeks ago. The year is dying with the hours of sunlight.
The Catholic Church acknowledges our need to recall our dead with its celebration of All Saints and All Souls Days on November first and second. My daffodil planting brought to mind my dead daughter. It has been twelve and a half years since her death. I don’t like terms like “passed” or “lost her.” Passed what? We were not careless enough to let loose her hand in a crowd. She died. It’s not healthy to deny the word. But what brought her death to mind today was the small manure turtle thriving in my back yard garden. How she would laugh to think that her last Mother’s Day gift to me was a brick of s---! How ironic.
A week ago we attended a Celtic New Year celebration of Irish books, music and art at the Irish-American Heritage Center in Chicago. One of the authors who spoke was Anna McPartlin, a young Irishwoman with a tragic childhood and a smiling disposition. Ms. McPartlin read a chapter from one of her books. In the question and answer session that followed she discussed her first book, Pack Up The Moon. One of her comments was thought-provoking. The story in the first book deals with coming to terms with death and grieving. The young and charming Ms. McPartlin said that the characters in her book learn to acknowledge and surrender the parts of them that died with their loved ones. The role one had played for the departed needs to be buried with them. The special words and intimate interactions are forever lost, accept in memory. Resolution of the grieving process occurs when the survivor can mourn the loss of a portion of themselves as well as the loss of the loved one.
I’m no longer the mother of a young, intelligent woman with whom I argue psychological theory and philosophy. There are no head and back rubs to give while watching Murder She Wrote. There will be no co-written mystery series with a librarian detective. I no longer need to show interest in antique shops that feature familiar looking furniture.
But I plant daffodils and wait for spring. And I share a laugh with someone long dead whenever I see that turtle.
Despite my hopes for spring flowers, November is the time to contemplate death and dying. Plants have withered; leaves have turned and fallen, their brittle sound follows wind and footstep; the lovelier birds migrated towards sunnier climes weeks ago. The year is dying with the hours of sunlight.
The Catholic Church acknowledges our need to recall our dead with its celebration of All Saints and All Souls Days on November first and second. My daffodil planting brought to mind my dead daughter. It has been twelve and a half years since her death. I don’t like terms like “passed” or “lost her.” Passed what? We were not careless enough to let loose her hand in a crowd. She died. It’s not healthy to deny the word. But what brought her death to mind today was the small manure turtle thriving in my back yard garden. How she would laugh to think that her last Mother’s Day gift to me was a brick of s---! How ironic.
A week ago we attended a Celtic New Year celebration of Irish books, music and art at the Irish-American Heritage Center in Chicago. One of the authors who spoke was Anna McPartlin, a young Irishwoman with a tragic childhood and a smiling disposition. Ms. McPartlin read a chapter from one of her books. In the question and answer session that followed she discussed her first book, Pack Up The Moon. One of her comments was thought-provoking. The story in the first book deals with coming to terms with death and grieving. The young and charming Ms. McPartlin said that the characters in her book learn to acknowledge and surrender the parts of them that died with their loved ones. The role one had played for the departed needs to be buried with them. The special words and intimate interactions are forever lost, accept in memory. Resolution of the grieving process occurs when the survivor can mourn the loss of a portion of themselves as well as the loss of the loved one.
I’m no longer the mother of a young, intelligent woman with whom I argue psychological theory and philosophy. There are no head and back rubs to give while watching Murder She Wrote. There will be no co-written mystery series with a librarian detective. I no longer need to show interest in antique shops that feature familiar looking furniture.
But I plant daffodils and wait for spring. And I share a laugh with someone long dead whenever I see that turtle.
Monday, October 26, 2009
The Haunted Flat
Halloween will be upon us soon. How many realize that the current holiday is based on the Celtic year's end, Samhain? (pronounced sow' in) The Celtic year ends; the festival of Samhain celebrates the dissolution of the boundaries between the world of the living and of the dead. On the last evening of the year, the dead walk the earth.
Visitations of the dead are not limited to Samhain. We lived in a haunted apartment once. The apartment was part of a two flat that was attached to its mirror image. The buildings were constructed in the mid-1920s when riches flowed freely. Our flat was on the second floor.
There were no bumps in the night, no eerie sounds, no apparitions hovering above the old gas light fixture in the hallway. The only intimation of the haunting was a feeling of presence. But there was more going on that I was unaware of.
I never mentioned the ghost to anyone while we lived there. It was represented by a feeling that an old man was watching over our infant son while his crib was in the front of the house. Until he was sleeping through the night we kept his crib in the dining room near our bedroom, and a bit later the crib was moved to the alcove over the front stairway. Only later did he join his big sister in the back bedroom. After the move to the back of the flat the "old gentleman" disappeared.
Our ghost was a benevolent spirit who was protecting our infant son. During those months the spirit visited late in the evening. I felt that our "visitor" was the ghost of the man who build the apartments. The man was successful enough to have made a world tour. Many of his mementos were still lodged in the basement. He had wanted a male heir, but never had a son.
Other strange things happened while we lived in the apartment. A gallon of apricot paint seemingly tipped itself all over the bathtub when we were painting. There were several women on the block and many of them pregnant at one time or another. Accidents happened to my visiting neighbors who were soon to deliver baby boys. Three women fell down the stairs--back stairs, outside front stairs, and the stairs linking the first and second floors. One woman very narrowly escaped death when she barely missed an old metal sled lodged at the bottom of the inside stairs. Throughout the five years we lived in the apartment, accidents happened to boy children in the back parts of the building.
I never made the connection until we had moved out to the suburbs. My brother and his wife came to visit. They had taken the apartment after we moved. As the evening conversation continued my sister-in-law asked why we had never told them about the ghost. Chills ran down my spine. I had never mentioned it to anyone. Apparently one of their friends came to visit and immediately sensed a ghost in the back portion of the house. She called the ghost Millie. Millie's favorite color was blue and she did not like little boys. She was not a pleasant spirit.
Was my "old gentleman" protecting our son from Millie? Were those falls just the clumsiness of pregnant women, or was it Millie? Ladies expecting girl babies never had a problem. Who tipped the apricot paint can? Did Millie cause the accidents little boys suffered in the back parts of the apartments, or was it just a coincidence? It's a true story. Believe what you will.
Happy Halloween. Happy New Year.
Visitations of the dead are not limited to Samhain. We lived in a haunted apartment once. The apartment was part of a two flat that was attached to its mirror image. The buildings were constructed in the mid-1920s when riches flowed freely. Our flat was on the second floor.
There were no bumps in the night, no eerie sounds, no apparitions hovering above the old gas light fixture in the hallway. The only intimation of the haunting was a feeling of presence. But there was more going on that I was unaware of.
I never mentioned the ghost to anyone while we lived there. It was represented by a feeling that an old man was watching over our infant son while his crib was in the front of the house. Until he was sleeping through the night we kept his crib in the dining room near our bedroom, and a bit later the crib was moved to the alcove over the front stairway. Only later did he join his big sister in the back bedroom. After the move to the back of the flat the "old gentleman" disappeared.
Our ghost was a benevolent spirit who was protecting our infant son. During those months the spirit visited late in the evening. I felt that our "visitor" was the ghost of the man who build the apartments. The man was successful enough to have made a world tour. Many of his mementos were still lodged in the basement. He had wanted a male heir, but never had a son.
Other strange things happened while we lived in the apartment. A gallon of apricot paint seemingly tipped itself all over the bathtub when we were painting. There were several women on the block and many of them pregnant at one time or another. Accidents happened to my visiting neighbors who were soon to deliver baby boys. Three women fell down the stairs--back stairs, outside front stairs, and the stairs linking the first and second floors. One woman very narrowly escaped death when she barely missed an old metal sled lodged at the bottom of the inside stairs. Throughout the five years we lived in the apartment, accidents happened to boy children in the back parts of the building.
I never made the connection until we had moved out to the suburbs. My brother and his wife came to visit. They had taken the apartment after we moved. As the evening conversation continued my sister-in-law asked why we had never told them about the ghost. Chills ran down my spine. I had never mentioned it to anyone. Apparently one of their friends came to visit and immediately sensed a ghost in the back portion of the house. She called the ghost Millie. Millie's favorite color was blue and she did not like little boys. She was not a pleasant spirit.
Was my "old gentleman" protecting our son from Millie? Were those falls just the clumsiness of pregnant women, or was it Millie? Ladies expecting girl babies never had a problem. Who tipped the apricot paint can? Did Millie cause the accidents little boys suffered in the back parts of the apartments, or was it just a coincidence? It's a true story. Believe what you will.
Happy Halloween. Happy New Year.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
National Parks on PBS
With regard to the Ken Burns' National Parks documentary on PBS--I should like to see more park and hear less polemic.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
The University Brochure
I received a flyer in the mail today from the local university. The school advertises a new master degree program tailored for those over 65. Old students may enroll in the Pre-Senility Master of Old Age graduate program for credit towards their degree, or they may audit individual classes until it becomes necessary to make yearly minimum withdrawals on their 401k. If prospective students are institutionalized they may enroll in the distance learning program. This is an amazing opportunity, as the course listings will readily demonstrate, so forward this posting to your favorite senior citizen now!
Degree Requirements: Successful fulfillment of eight courses, a three-month practicum, and a thesis.
Required Courses:
- Physical Fitness (Pass/Fail) – Students will explore aerobic and anaerobic fitness. Proficiency in the following activities is required “Prescription Pill Container Physics”, “Dancing with Sore Bunions,” “The Peppermint Twist and Shout Back-out-of-Whack Tournament” “Bloodless Toe-nail Clipping” and “Facial Hair Removal without a Magnifying Mirror.” Independent study options depend on Medicare coverage plan.
- Tweeting and Texting – Students will tweet and text inane messages to other students until the entire class agree that face-to-face communication, letters, and phone calls are “a thing of the past.” Facebook and MySpace privacy issues will be addressed, then dismissed. Enlarging the number of cyber-friends and family is the goal. Annoying emoticon creation required.
- Buster’s Memory Boosters – A favorite course taught by award winning faculty member Beta Amyloid Buster. Strategies for keeping the old noggin sharp include Suduko, Crosswords, Solitaire, and Logic Puzzles. Professor Buster offers priority registration to students who confuse grandchildren’s names and/or who forget their anniversary. The location of the classroom changes for each session so that students with perfect attendance receive an automatic “A.” Pre-requisite: Remembering what you came into the classroom for.
Electives (Choose Five):
- Spending All Your Money – Students will devise a plan to spend all of their children’s inheritance before probate. Those who demonstrate they can do it on the very day of their death receive extra credit.
- De-Clutter Now! – Local psychiatric social workers team up to teach this class. Rules of Disengagement for your valuable collectibles, tattered letters, odd sized screws, photographs with heads cut off, clothes that will never fit, and refrigerated leftovers will be explored. Really, really important pieces of paper will be shredded for the final examination.
- Buster’s Memory Boosters – A favorite course taught by award winning faculty member Beta Amyloid Buster. Strategies for keeping the old noggin sharp include Suduko, Crosswords, Solitaire, and Logic Puzzles. Professor Buster offers priority registration to students who confuse grandchildren’s names and/or who forget their anniversary. The location of the classroom changes for each session so that students with perfect attendance receive an automatic “A.” Pre-requisite: Remembering what you came into the classroom for.
- Medication Slice and Dice – The high cost of keeping healthy just got cheaper when students learn to cut pills, skip doses, and avoid the donut hole. Extra credit for those students who can correctly sort all medications into their weekly dosage containers before dinner.
- Buster’s Memory Boosters – A favorite course taught by award winning faculty member Beta Amyloid Buster. Strategies for keeping the old noggin sharp include Suduko, Crosswords, Solitaire, and Logic Puzzles. Professor Buster offers priority registration to students who confuse grandchildren’s names and/or who forget their anniversary. The location of the classroom changes for each session so that students with perfect attendance receive an automatic “A. Pre-requisite: Remembering what you came into the classroom for.
- Buster’s Memory Boosters – A favorite course taught by award winning faculty member Beta Amyloid Buster. Strategies for keeping the old noggin sharp include Suduko, Crosswords, Solitaire, and Logic Puzzles. Professor Buster offers priority registration to students who confuse grandchildren’s names and/or who forget their anniversary. The location of the classroom changes for each session so that students with perfect attendance receive an automatic “A.” Pre-requisite: Remembering what you came into the classroom for.
- Conversation Ice-Breakers- How many illnesses, medications and conditions can the student introduce into conversations with friends, family and complete strangers? Specific strategies for dining, bridge, golf, grocery check-out lines, chance meetings, and other social gatherings will be designed to suit every situation. Students should come with a complete list of their “pre-existing conditions” on the first day of class.
- Practicum – Advisor permission required, in writing. Explore the “Good Old Days” in a meaningful manner. Students will spend three months in the local high school interacting with teens and teachers. Documentation of student’s reminiscence, lamentations, complaints, and helpful suggestions will be required. Multi-media preferred. The university will not be held responsible for fines, imprisonment, hospitalization fees, or damage to property.
Thesis (Required):
Each student is required to write, present, and defend a thesis. The topic has been determined by the university and is the same for all students. The thesis topic is Learning to Love Irrelevancy. This topic is non-negotiable. Creative and meaningful responses to the Irrelevancy of Old Age will explore topics like:
- “I paid the mortgage on our modest home on time and in full. Why do I have to bail out unqualified debtors in foreclosure?”
- “We purchased our fuel efficient automobile ten years ago so where’s my ‘cash for clunkers’—or is the car not the ‘clunker’?”
- “Medicare and Medicaid are not equivalent—did you know that?”
- “Where is that Money Tree my grown-up children think we have?”
- “My deadbeat brother-in-law owes me a bundle I’ll never see. Am I eligible for TARP benefits?”
- “If I were an AIG executive, how would I spend my Christmas bonus?”
- “My cemetery plot is ‘shovel ready.’ When can I expect the government’s stimulus money?”
- "Explore the movitations behind writing a blog no one ever reads."
- “Blackberry is not a fruit. Should the President IM anyone over 30? Do I care?”
Students should send thesis proposals to their advisors before the completion of their final course. You advisor will get back to you eventually.
Evaluation of irrelevancy will be determined by the Death Panel, whose decision will be final.
Saturday, September 12, 2009
The Future for Networked Libraries
Many Illinois libraries—public, academic, school and corporate—are fortunate to be linked to one of a number of library systems. In other parts of the country individual libraries are part of a county or regional system. In these lean times all libraries are hard pressed to find ways to function with less money, higher operating expenses, and greater demand. It is crucial to the country that libraries survive and thrive in both these tough economic times and in future when the economy rebounds.
This is not the first time in recent years that the viability of libraries has been challenged. Information itself has become “capital.” The information society demands instant and universal access to that commodity. In the 1990s libraries re-invented themselves to meet the demands of the Information Age. In addition Web2.0 required libraries to collaborate, communicate and connect in new ways. Successful libraries re-defined their missions to include interactive services while preserving high standards for traditional resources and values. On the whole, libraries met the challenges of the nineties, and continue to evolve.
Now is not the time for libraries to become complacent. While most have learned to weather the rapid transformations of the past decade, change—a dynamic and continuous process—remains the persistent paradigm. In order to remain both relevant and accountable libraries must not only respond to change, but seek opportunities for innovation.
The suggestions that follow can facilitate innovation in library communities. Although these suggestions apply most readily to the public library, adaptation is possible for academic and corporate library networks.
1) Nodal libraries should be established within a system to:
· Consolidate resources,
· Focus reference and technological expertise,
· Eliminate duplication,
· Enhance service, and
· Be cost effective.
The principal function of the nodal library, in addition to their own local responsibilities, would be to answer complex reference and research questions. Expensive databases and subject emphasis could be distributed throughout the nodes. Smaller, local libraries would outsource non-ready-reference inquiries, saving their limited resources to focus on local services: children and teen needs, community resource nexus, recreational reading, literacy and technology education, program and entertainment resources. Smaller libraries would pay the nodal libraries a smaller amount than they would expend on reference databases and expensive research materials. Staff from smaller libraries could rotate their reference librarians into the nodal system for “reference credits” if desired. A seamless interface could be designed to facilitate communication between client and nodal information specialists that would reflect positively on the local library. Small, local libraries cannot be all things to all peoples. Adoption of a nodal library system would free limited funds for materials and local services while providing expertise and currency that an individual library may find too costly to sustain.
2) Using the best practices of Web3.0 (the Semantic Web) local libraries can
“push” information and agents to their service population. The local library would become a public resource “Cloud” pulling together in-house resources, local government and education entities, community organizations, and local business. For example, a patron/client asks for help preparing a resume because s/he has been laid-off. The library would act as “Resource Agent” providing books on resumes, DVDs for the job interview, local job advertisements, word processing and productivity software, links to counseling and networking groups in the area, a calendar of job related programming sponsored by the library and its partners, links to government unemployment resources, RSS updates on job openings, resume editing services, links to community college resources to upgrade skills with access to college catalogs and registration…You get the idea. The local library would become a linked-in First Resort in the minds of local users and the community.
Adoption of these suggestions would increase the value a library provides to its service community. Cooperation, communication, and collaboration are keys to the future. Libraries can lead the way forward. ©ettsme.blogspot.com September 2009.
This is not the first time in recent years that the viability of libraries has been challenged. Information itself has become “capital.” The information society demands instant and universal access to that commodity. In the 1990s libraries re-invented themselves to meet the demands of the Information Age. In addition Web2.0 required libraries to collaborate, communicate and connect in new ways. Successful libraries re-defined their missions to include interactive services while preserving high standards for traditional resources and values. On the whole, libraries met the challenges of the nineties, and continue to evolve.
Now is not the time for libraries to become complacent. While most have learned to weather the rapid transformations of the past decade, change—a dynamic and continuous process—remains the persistent paradigm. In order to remain both relevant and accountable libraries must not only respond to change, but seek opportunities for innovation.
The suggestions that follow can facilitate innovation in library communities. Although these suggestions apply most readily to the public library, adaptation is possible for academic and corporate library networks.
1) Nodal libraries should be established within a system to:
· Consolidate resources,
· Focus reference and technological expertise,
· Eliminate duplication,
· Enhance service, and
· Be cost effective.
The principal function of the nodal library, in addition to their own local responsibilities, would be to answer complex reference and research questions. Expensive databases and subject emphasis could be distributed throughout the nodes. Smaller, local libraries would outsource non-ready-reference inquiries, saving their limited resources to focus on local services: children and teen needs, community resource nexus, recreational reading, literacy and technology education, program and entertainment resources. Smaller libraries would pay the nodal libraries a smaller amount than they would expend on reference databases and expensive research materials. Staff from smaller libraries could rotate their reference librarians into the nodal system for “reference credits” if desired. A seamless interface could be designed to facilitate communication between client and nodal information specialists that would reflect positively on the local library. Small, local libraries cannot be all things to all peoples. Adoption of a nodal library system would free limited funds for materials and local services while providing expertise and currency that an individual library may find too costly to sustain.
2) Using the best practices of Web3.0 (the Semantic Web) local libraries can
“push” information and agents to their service population. The local library would become a public resource “Cloud” pulling together in-house resources, local government and education entities, community organizations, and local business. For example, a patron/client asks for help preparing a resume because s/he has been laid-off. The library would act as “Resource Agent” providing books on resumes, DVDs for the job interview, local job advertisements, word processing and productivity software, links to counseling and networking groups in the area, a calendar of job related programming sponsored by the library and its partners, links to government unemployment resources, RSS updates on job openings, resume editing services, links to community college resources to upgrade skills with access to college catalogs and registration…You get the idea. The local library would become a linked-in First Resort in the minds of local users and the community.
Adoption of these suggestions would increase the value a library provides to its service community. Cooperation, communication, and collaboration are keys to the future. Libraries can lead the way forward. ©ettsme.blogspot.com September 2009.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
It's "OK" because...
(a) Everyone does/says it;
(b) It’s unenforceable;
(c) It makes money;
(d) It’s ubiquitous;
(e) All my friends say so;
(f) I read it on Wikipedia;
(g) I saw it on the Internet/TV;
(h) I want to;
(i) He/she does it;
(j) I’m such a bad role model, I am a role model;
(k) It’s so cool;
(l) It's quick/easy;
(m) Nobody can make me do anything;
(n) “So and so” does it;
(o) No one will catch me;
(p) No one will know;
(q) It’s not wrong;
(r) Everybody’s entitled to their own opinion;
(s) What’s your excuse?
(t) None of the above.
Sorry, objective standards exist. Information is not knowledge. Consensus is not verity. Choosing the right and the good shouldn't be easy. One must dig deep and search broadly. The results can be elusive but they are always worth the effort. The correct answer is "t" which stands for truth, no matter how you feel about it.
(b) It’s unenforceable;
(c) It makes money;
(d) It’s ubiquitous;
(e) All my friends say so;
(f) I read it on Wikipedia;
(g) I saw it on the Internet/TV;
(h) I want to;
(i) He/she does it;
(j) I’m such a bad role model, I am a role model;
(k) It’s so cool;
(l) It's quick/easy;
(m) Nobody can make me do anything;
(n) “So and so” does it;
(o) No one will catch me;
(p) No one will know;
(q) It’s not wrong;
(r) Everybody’s entitled to their own opinion;
(s) What’s your excuse?
(t) None of the above.
Sorry, objective standards exist. Information is not knowledge. Consensus is not verity. Choosing the right and the good shouldn't be easy. One must dig deep and search broadly. The results can be elusive but they are always worth the effort. The correct answer is "t" which stands for truth, no matter how you feel about it.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Innocent Summers
How did a pre-boomer child growing up in post-World War II spend the summer?
Carefree, sunny days and long noisy warm nights filled my pre-adolescent years. We lived on the near West Side of Chicago, in an Italian-American neighborhood. Our flat was down the street from a Catholic church, the center of any Italian-American neighborhood of that era. The mid-to-late ‘40s were a reliable source of almond candies, pennies, and uncooked rice. Nearly every summer Saturday hosted a wedding or two. Neighborhood kids would join the wedding celebrants as the new couple emerged from the church, hoping to glean the windfall of bridal tribute. We left the rice for the birds.
During the week, we conducted our own weddings. I can’t even guess how many times I married my cousin Joey Boy, but it was a lot. One of my favorite photographs of that time was of Joey “driving” his tricycle with the veiled bride on the trike’s back step holding on tight. I was such a lovely bride.
Wedding was not the only game we played. Marbles caromed within circles drawn in dirt parkways. We watched as older kids tossed jackknives onto a target scratched in the mud. Statue Maker, Kick the Can, Mother May I?, and Four Corners filled the afternoons and evenings. Mother, May I? is more complex than you might imagine. For those of you too young to know the game—probably 90 per cent of you—the rules are simple.
“Mother” determines who will advance toward her and who will not. The players line up horizontally on the sidewalk or street. Each in turn says “Mother, may I take (any number of giant, baby, or medium steps forward)? “Mother would say yes or no, or, she might change the orders. For example she might say, “No, you must take 2 giant steps backwards.” After every player had a turn, “mother” would briefly turn her back to the players. This was their chance to sneak up a bit so that she might not notice and send you back. A more daring player might chance a run ahead to tag “mother.” If a player was caught moving they were out. Timing and strategy were all. If you succeeded and got close enough to tag “mother,” you took her place.
We played our games just for the fun of playing and being together. If the game required a winner each of us wanted to be that player in turn. Cheating was not tolerated; play ended when you were called home.
Other summer activities included roller skating, trips to the family cottage, and, very rarely, a real vacation. I was no athlete. I “couldn’t skate.” I cried when I skinned my knee and wanted to come inside. My mother had no pity, and she yelled a lot. She sent me back out, declaring that I could not come home until I learned to skate. I learned to skate.
In the early ‘50s we had a real vacation. My brother was only 2 or 3 years old, so he was left at the family cottage. I puked my way through the flat, flat lands of Nebraska. And through the hairpin turns of Rocky Mountain roads. It was a great trip though. We saw Mount Rushmore, Old Faithful, the upper Colorado River canyons, and Pikes Peak. It snowed on the Fourth of July as the car climbed to the Peak. Once at the Peak we had blueberry pie—a first taste of a lifelong passion. There were bears in Yellowstone Park. My father, a camera nut, had to get out of the car to “get those two cute cubs on film.” Mother bear was not amused and dad had to dash back to the car where mother and I were screaming in terror.
When we reached the high desert of Wyoming I decided to empty the sand out of my shoe by opening the window and dumping it out as my father drove 70 miles an hour. Of course the shoe flew out of my hand. When my father finally stopped the car, the shoe was at least a mile or two away. He parked the car on the side of the road and walked back to find the shoe. He found it and I was in trouble for days. It made a change from motion sickness.
Summer nights were warm in the city—no fans or central air conditioning. There were no spacious lawns to cool the evening. We were very lucky to have a front yard of about two dozen square feet. This was the inner city and the ghetto started a half block east. But it was an Italian-American block and everyone was related to everyone else. Families would visit into the wee hours. Kids played in dark corners. If we were flush, a slushy Italian ice from across the street might cool a parched summer throat. As the day neared midnight calls to come home resounded on the block. In exhaustion we slept, hoping for a lake breeze and dreaming of tomorrow’s adventures.
In June of 1952 we moved to the suburbs. The first night in our new home was spent sweltering on mattresses strewn on the floor. It was so quiet. As the summer progressed we discovered fireflies and unfriendly neighbors. It took months to make a friend. Our second summer brought me my first (an only) bicycle, a 26 inch Sears boy’s bike. The bicycle was meant to last through my brother’s youth too, but I couldn’t think how I would ride it wearing my Catholic school jumper. Actually I couldn’t ride it at all. Mother said “Learn! Or walk eleven blocks to school everyday.”
A patient and kind classmate took pity on me. She taught me how to balance while riding on the back of her bicycle, holding on for dear life. I progressed to being helped to ride with her hand helping balance me. In a year I was good enough to take on Devil’s Dip in the nearby forest preserves.
Summers in the suburbs were never the same as those in the city though. Time passed. My childhood melted into adolescence as summer surprisingly becomes autumn.
Sixty-plus years have passed since Statue Maker was my delight. I took a half hour walk today. It was beautiful, warm and sunny, with a nice breeze. During my walk I encountered only two children, rollerblading while walking their dogs. It’s a rare day to see any kids playing outside. Only occasionally do the boys down the block play basketball or street hockey. Where are the girls?
It’s summer, every child’s delight, but the block is quiet. Today’s children are in day care and day camp; or inside their houses while parents work. Summer’s children are texting each other instead of talking; playing video games in an air conditioned buildings instead of working up an honest sweat playing outdoors in the fresh air.
Innocent summers are a pearl beyond price, not to be cheaply tossed aside. How sad to waste summer. Well, I’m not going to waste mine. I’m heading for the freezer to have a rock hard artificial Italian ice—after I check the sugar, sodium and calories. Mother, may I?
Carefree, sunny days and long noisy warm nights filled my pre-adolescent years. We lived on the near West Side of Chicago, in an Italian-American neighborhood. Our flat was down the street from a Catholic church, the center of any Italian-American neighborhood of that era. The mid-to-late ‘40s were a reliable source of almond candies, pennies, and uncooked rice. Nearly every summer Saturday hosted a wedding or two. Neighborhood kids would join the wedding celebrants as the new couple emerged from the church, hoping to glean the windfall of bridal tribute. We left the rice for the birds.
During the week, we conducted our own weddings. I can’t even guess how many times I married my cousin Joey Boy, but it was a lot. One of my favorite photographs of that time was of Joey “driving” his tricycle with the veiled bride on the trike’s back step holding on tight. I was such a lovely bride.
Wedding was not the only game we played. Marbles caromed within circles drawn in dirt parkways. We watched as older kids tossed jackknives onto a target scratched in the mud. Statue Maker, Kick the Can, Mother May I?, and Four Corners filled the afternoons and evenings. Mother, May I? is more complex than you might imagine. For those of you too young to know the game—probably 90 per cent of you—the rules are simple.
“Mother” determines who will advance toward her and who will not. The players line up horizontally on the sidewalk or street. Each in turn says “Mother, may I take (any number of giant, baby, or medium steps forward)? “Mother would say yes or no, or, she might change the orders. For example she might say, “No, you must take 2 giant steps backwards.” After every player had a turn, “mother” would briefly turn her back to the players. This was their chance to sneak up a bit so that she might not notice and send you back. A more daring player might chance a run ahead to tag “mother.” If a player was caught moving they were out. Timing and strategy were all. If you succeeded and got close enough to tag “mother,” you took her place.
We played our games just for the fun of playing and being together. If the game required a winner each of us wanted to be that player in turn. Cheating was not tolerated; play ended when you were called home.
Other summer activities included roller skating, trips to the family cottage, and, very rarely, a real vacation. I was no athlete. I “couldn’t skate.” I cried when I skinned my knee and wanted to come inside. My mother had no pity, and she yelled a lot. She sent me back out, declaring that I could not come home until I learned to skate. I learned to skate.
In the early ‘50s we had a real vacation. My brother was only 2 or 3 years old, so he was left at the family cottage. I puked my way through the flat, flat lands of Nebraska. And through the hairpin turns of Rocky Mountain roads. It was a great trip though. We saw Mount Rushmore, Old Faithful, the upper Colorado River canyons, and Pikes Peak. It snowed on the Fourth of July as the car climbed to the Peak. Once at the Peak we had blueberry pie—a first taste of a lifelong passion. There were bears in Yellowstone Park. My father, a camera nut, had to get out of the car to “get those two cute cubs on film.” Mother bear was not amused and dad had to dash back to the car where mother and I were screaming in terror.
When we reached the high desert of Wyoming I decided to empty the sand out of my shoe by opening the window and dumping it out as my father drove 70 miles an hour. Of course the shoe flew out of my hand. When my father finally stopped the car, the shoe was at least a mile or two away. He parked the car on the side of the road and walked back to find the shoe. He found it and I was in trouble for days. It made a change from motion sickness.
Summer nights were warm in the city—no fans or central air conditioning. There were no spacious lawns to cool the evening. We were very lucky to have a front yard of about two dozen square feet. This was the inner city and the ghetto started a half block east. But it was an Italian-American block and everyone was related to everyone else. Families would visit into the wee hours. Kids played in dark corners. If we were flush, a slushy Italian ice from across the street might cool a parched summer throat. As the day neared midnight calls to come home resounded on the block. In exhaustion we slept, hoping for a lake breeze and dreaming of tomorrow’s adventures.
In June of 1952 we moved to the suburbs. The first night in our new home was spent sweltering on mattresses strewn on the floor. It was so quiet. As the summer progressed we discovered fireflies and unfriendly neighbors. It took months to make a friend. Our second summer brought me my first (an only) bicycle, a 26 inch Sears boy’s bike. The bicycle was meant to last through my brother’s youth too, but I couldn’t think how I would ride it wearing my Catholic school jumper. Actually I couldn’t ride it at all. Mother said “Learn! Or walk eleven blocks to school everyday.”
A patient and kind classmate took pity on me. She taught me how to balance while riding on the back of her bicycle, holding on for dear life. I progressed to being helped to ride with her hand helping balance me. In a year I was good enough to take on Devil’s Dip in the nearby forest preserves.
Summers in the suburbs were never the same as those in the city though. Time passed. My childhood melted into adolescence as summer surprisingly becomes autumn.
Sixty-plus years have passed since Statue Maker was my delight. I took a half hour walk today. It was beautiful, warm and sunny, with a nice breeze. During my walk I encountered only two children, rollerblading while walking their dogs. It’s a rare day to see any kids playing outside. Only occasionally do the boys down the block play basketball or street hockey. Where are the girls?
It’s summer, every child’s delight, but the block is quiet. Today’s children are in day care and day camp; or inside their houses while parents work. Summer’s children are texting each other instead of talking; playing video games in an air conditioned buildings instead of working up an honest sweat playing outdoors in the fresh air.
Innocent summers are a pearl beyond price, not to be cheaply tossed aside. How sad to waste summer. Well, I’m not going to waste mine. I’m heading for the freezer to have a rock hard artificial Italian ice—after I check the sugar, sodium and calories. Mother, may I?
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Deciphering "Doc-talk": Prefixes and Suffixes
It has taken a while to get this together for a number of reasons. Principally I have been procrastinating, but I have also had to complete a major project, have had a marvelous vacation in Oregon and southern California, a nasty bout of sinusitis, and have been trying to find a way to make this comprehensible.
Many of our medical terms have their origin in the Greek and Latin languages. This reflects the history of the art of medicine in European culture as well as the continuity of scientific knowledge. In the hope of making this easier GREEK roots will be in capitals and those with Latin roots will be italicized. English meanings are in quotation marks. This listing is, in no way, intended to be complete. Only more common roots are included.
Aside from the medical terms, there are a number of basic prefixes that transcend subject areas. These are useful beyond the topic.
- A or AN mean “not.” However in Latin it is il, which along with im, in also means against, into, or on.
- Post means “after” while pre means “before;”
- HYPER means “above”, HYPO means “under” and ultra means “beyond.”
- ENTO, ECTO, and ENDO mean “inside or interior” in Greek while in Latin it’s intra, intro.
- “Outside” is EX, EXO, extra. PERI means “around”, trans means “through on the far side of”.
- “Under” can be expressed in several ways in Latin: sub, suc, suf, sum, sup. Super, supra mean “above.”
- Ob, oc is Latin for “against.”
- Finally the prefix meaning “with” is expressed as SY(M), SYL, SYN and cum. Medical persons will usually abbreviate “with” by writing a letter c with a line over it.
Let’s begin the medical terms at the beginning with basic and more widely distributed physical entities.
- “Cell” is CYTO; PLAST when used as a suffix.
- “Tissue” is HISTO, HYMENO is “membrane.”
- “Body” is SOMATO as prefix and SOMA; STOMOUS when used as a suffix.
- OO and ovi refer to “egg.” SPERMATO is “seed”, ZYGO means “double, yolk.” GAMO denotes “united, copulation”; GONO is “sexual reproduction.”
- “Blood” comes from HAEMA or sangui; as suffix EMIA; THROMBO means “blood clot”
- ADENO means “gland;” DERM refers to “skin.”
- OSTEO and ossi refer to bone. NOTO references the “back of the body” while PLEURO is used for the “side of the body.” ARTHRO means “joint”, CHONDRO refers to “cartilage”, MYO refers to “muscle” and BRACHI means “arm.”
Moving on to the head, face, and neck we find the following:
- CEPHALO means “head” while the suffixes would be CEPHALIC, CEPHALOUS;
- “Brain” is CEREBRO, ENCEPHALO or PHRENO; “skull” is CRANIO, but PSYCH refers to “mind, spirit, or soul.”
- NEURO means “nerve”, MYELO, “spinal cord” and RACHI, RACHIO is the “spine.” Poliomyelitis is an infectious viral disease that attacks the spinal cord and “grey matter” brain stem.
- TRICHIO/IA refers to hair.
- BLEPHARO means “eyelid”; OPTHALMO and oculo mean “eye;” as a suffix OPIA refers to “sight.”
- OTO refers to the “ear.” Naso and RHINO mean the “nose.”
- ORO and STOMATO both refer to “mouth” but the latter word usually means a general opening into something like an intestine, labio is “lip”, GLOSSO, “tongue”, BRONCHO, “throat”, GNATHO is “jaw” and CERVICO refers to the “neck.”
- “Tooth” can be denti or ODONTO. Combined with ORTHO which means “straight’ or ENDO meaning “within” you can see where the words orthodontist and endodontist come from. If you note, you will have to pay a lot more for the ODONTO word than denti.
Organs and systems in the rest of the body have their own Greek and Latin origins.
- The “lung” references are PNEUMO and pulmo; spiro refers to “breath.”
- CARDIO means “heart”, PHLEBO refers to “vein”, SPHYGMO means “pulse.” Arteries were a late discovery. The name of the machine that takes your blood pressures is sphygmomanometer. A myocardial infarction means the death of a portion of the heart muscle due to a blood clot in the coronary artery that interrupts blood flow to the heart.
- “Stomach” originates from COELA, GASTRO; SPLANCHNO and ENTERO refer to “guts.” SCATO and sterco describe “excrement.”
- HEPATO means “liver,” CHOLE, CHOLO means “bile.” Cholesterol is actually a steroid alcohol manufactured by the liver that is a bile precursor. It is not “body fat” which comes from LIPO.
- Reni and NEPHRO refer to the “kidney,” which is charged with filtering out TOXIO, or poisons, to be excreted through the “bladder” CYSTO. Do not confuse this root with CYST which is a “fluid filled sac,” possibly containing PYO or “pus.”
- HYSTERO means “womb” and INGUINO refers to the “groin.” At the very bottom of the body we find PES, PEDIS better known as the “feet.”
Miscellaneous medical prefixes and suffixes conclude this somewhat dizzying listing.
- IATRO, IATRICS, IATRY mean “medicine,” while IASIS refers to “disease.” PATHO and PATHY also mean “suffering or disease.” SEPSIS refers to infection or contamination while ITIS means “inflammation.” ALGIA and ODYNIA refer to “pain.”
- LEUKO means “white,” POLIO is grey, and MELANO refers to “black.”
- SCHISTO, SCHIZO means “split” and ANKYLO means “curved, bent.” SCELERO means “hard” and STENO refers to “narrow or short.”
- HYPNO means “sleep” as does somni. ONEIRO refers to “dream.”
- OMA and CELE when used as a suffix refer to “tumor.” PLASIA, PLASIS means “growth.”
- Other suffixes: PHOBIA means “fear”, MANIA means “craving,” PLEGIA means “paralysis”, RRHEA, RRHAGIA refers to “flow” but RRHAPY means “surgical stitching.” TOMY means “cutting.”
- Finally, TACHY is “rapid”, TRACHY is “rough” and ZER, ZERO means “dryness.”
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Deciphering "Doc-talk"
Recently I had the opportunity to tour the International Museum of Surgical Science in Chicago. This facility contains artifacts, illustrations, and sculptures that trace the healing practices of Eastern and Western medicine. Exhibits include medical imaging, ophthalmic art, nursing, pain management, surgicogenomics, orthopedics, and pharmacological science. The museum’s mission is “to enrich people’s lives by enhancing their appreciation and understanding of history, development, and advances of surgery and related subjects in health and medicine.” (brochure) Visit their website for more information http://www.imss.org/ .
The facility provoked my thoughts on the ubiquitous exposure the lay person has with modern medicine. Media, news articles, Internet and greater use of the health system forces one to become increasingly literate with the terms of medical science. “Doc-talk” is not necessarily the lingua franca of the public however. To help you decipher “doc-talk” I have planned two blog entries that will relate the meaning of certain terms and abbreviations commonly used by physicians and health care professionals. The lay person is expected to understand what has taken health care professionals years to master.
This first entry will reveal some of the more common medication abbreviations and medical terminology. The second will feature prefixed and suffixes most commonly used that will indicate anatomical and physiological terms. Many entries have their origin in Greek and Latin. Hopefully these blog entries will provide enough information so you can have a reasonable understanding of what is meant when your medical professional uses “doc-talk.”
Prescription abbreviations: Rx (from the Latin imperative recipe) – take thee of, ac (ante cibum) – before meals, ap (ante prandium) – before dinner, b.i.d. (bis in die) – twice daily, hd (hor decubitus) – at bedtime, p.r.n. or ad lib. (pro re nata or ad libitum) – as needed, q.h. (quaque sec hora) – every hour, q.i.d. (quarter in die) – four times daily, qtt – drops, sig (signa) – give following directions, ss (semis) – one half, t.i.d. (ter in die) – three times daily, ut dict – as directed.
Other terms used: Bx – biopsy, CBC – complete blood count, C/O – complains of, Dx – diagnosis, Fx – fracture, Hx – history of, NPO – (nil/nihil per os) nothing by mouth, O2 – oxygen gas, pH – acidity scale ( 0 – 14 with 7 as neutral; lower numbers are acid, higher numbers are basic or alkaline), R/O – rule out, c (with line over it) – with, s (with line over it) – without.
Other useful terms: ataxia – loss of control over body functions, edema – abnormal swelling or accumulation of fluid (pulmonary edema - accumulation of fluid in the lungs), ischemia – decrease in oxygenated blood being delivered to an organ (TIA – transient ischemic attacks or silent strokes that occur when brain is briefly deprived of oxygen, MI – myocardial infarction or heart attack caused by decreased oxygenated blood flow to the heart), metastasis – migration of cancer (CA) cells to other organs and parts of the body.
What is the difference between a CT Scan, MRI, fMRI, and PET Scan? The CT Scan (computerized tomography) utilizes an X-ray machine working with a computer to examine body organs, constructing a series of cross-section scans in one dimension. It is useful for viewing detailed pictures of body tissues and structures. The MRI (magnetic resonance imaging) uses nuclear magnetic resonance of protons to help distinguish between healthy and diseased tissues in a three dimensional proton density image. The fMRI (functional MRI) is a particular MRI that registers blood flow to functioning areas of the brain. A PET Scan (positron emission tomography) uses positrons to discover functional information. Images show molecular function and activity, the metabolic activities of body tissues. Its three dimensional images can be used to identify whether a tumor is benign or cancerous. PET Scans are often used to compliment the more common CT Scan and MRI.
Coming next: common medical suffixes and prefixes.
The facility provoked my thoughts on the ubiquitous exposure the lay person has with modern medicine. Media, news articles, Internet and greater use of the health system forces one to become increasingly literate with the terms of medical science. “Doc-talk” is not necessarily the lingua franca of the public however. To help you decipher “doc-talk” I have planned two blog entries that will relate the meaning of certain terms and abbreviations commonly used by physicians and health care professionals. The lay person is expected to understand what has taken health care professionals years to master.
This first entry will reveal some of the more common medication abbreviations and medical terminology. The second will feature prefixed and suffixes most commonly used that will indicate anatomical and physiological terms. Many entries have their origin in Greek and Latin. Hopefully these blog entries will provide enough information so you can have a reasonable understanding of what is meant when your medical professional uses “doc-talk.”
Prescription abbreviations: Rx (from the Latin imperative recipe) – take thee of, ac (ante cibum) – before meals, ap (ante prandium) – before dinner, b.i.d. (bis in die) – twice daily, hd (hor decubitus) – at bedtime, p.r.n. or ad lib. (pro re nata or ad libitum) – as needed, q.h. (quaque sec hora) – every hour, q.i.d. (quarter in die) – four times daily, qtt – drops, sig (signa) – give following directions, ss (semis) – one half, t.i.d. (ter in die) – three times daily, ut dict – as directed.
Other terms used: Bx – biopsy, CBC – complete blood count, C/O – complains of, Dx – diagnosis, Fx – fracture, Hx – history of, NPO – (nil/nihil per os) nothing by mouth, O2 – oxygen gas, pH – acidity scale ( 0 – 14 with 7 as neutral; lower numbers are acid, higher numbers are basic or alkaline), R/O – rule out, c (with line over it) – with, s (with line over it) – without.
Other useful terms: ataxia – loss of control over body functions, edema – abnormal swelling or accumulation of fluid (pulmonary edema - accumulation of fluid in the lungs), ischemia – decrease in oxygenated blood being delivered to an organ (TIA – transient ischemic attacks or silent strokes that occur when brain is briefly deprived of oxygen, MI – myocardial infarction or heart attack caused by decreased oxygenated blood flow to the heart), metastasis – migration of cancer (CA) cells to other organs and parts of the body.
What is the difference between a CT Scan, MRI, fMRI, and PET Scan? The CT Scan (computerized tomography) utilizes an X-ray machine working with a computer to examine body organs, constructing a series of cross-section scans in one dimension. It is useful for viewing detailed pictures of body tissues and structures. The MRI (magnetic resonance imaging) uses nuclear magnetic resonance of protons to help distinguish between healthy and diseased tissues in a three dimensional proton density image. The fMRI (functional MRI) is a particular MRI that registers blood flow to functioning areas of the brain. A PET Scan (positron emission tomography) uses positrons to discover functional information. Images show molecular function and activity, the metabolic activities of body tissues. Its three dimensional images can be used to identify whether a tumor is benign or cancerous. PET Scans are often used to compliment the more common CT Scan and MRI.
Coming next: common medical suffixes and prefixes.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
I Most Certainly Am Not A Twit!
Nor do I “twitter.” Twitter is the new darling of short attention span egoists. Tweets of 140 characters or less keep hundreds of “followers” informed of their every move. Twitter is becoming as popular as Facebook and MySpace, two of the best known networking applications available on the Internet and on mobile devices. In addition to manic thumb typists, movie stars, newscasters, and TV personalities send cyber messages ad nauseam.
A recent AP article by Martha Irvine, writing for USA Today, examines the Twitter madness and other social networking behaviors. The article describes the results of a recent Pew Internet & American Life Project survey that divides Americans of all ages into three groups: 45 % who love socializing via computer or mobile device, 48 % who do not, and 7% described as “conflicted about staying in constant contact.”
One cannot escape Twitter. We are led to believe that those without continuous connection to total strangers are antediluvian. Self-esteem is determined by the number of friends and followers one amasses. Oprah claimed 100,000 Twitter followers within hours of setting up her Tweeter presence.
But, wait a minute. Look at the Pew survey numbers again. Only 45% of the population love incessant socializing via computers and mobile devices. If the percentage of those “who do not” incorporate with the “conflicted” a majority of 55% emerges. Is this majority unaware of every other news article and their favorite news journalist’s continual claims that everyone—read “them”—tweets? Why haven’t the 55%-ers embraced this hot phenomenon? Are they twits too?
The hype is manipulative. The tyranny of the minority tries to convince the majority to follow. It’s Madison Avenue in cyberspades. Is that 55% too embarrassed to speak up?
Well, I’m not. I have refused numerous e-invites to become someone’s “friend.” (Web bots become quite indignant when you turn down their invitations!) I don’t need to have my mobile phone glued to my ear. I use IM for work purposes only and “chat” very occasionally. If you have a Facebook page don’t tell me about it. If you’re eating a greasy burger in St. Paul I don’t want to hear about. It’s not all about you. Sorry.
Here’s my unembarrassed stand on Twitter. Quite frankly, I’m not important enough to need continuous attachment to 500 total strangers. Actually I like the freedom inconsequence brings. But I do recognize importance. The vast majority of tweets and Facebook-like entries are banal, trivial. It’s noise, and I like solitude. Norman Cousins wrote that “a life without silence is a life without privacy.” I’m very big on privacy—mine and yours. Most of what passes for cyber-connectedness is ersatz relationship.
Those of us in that 55% are not out of the loop; we prefer that the loop not choke. Would it not be refreshing and charming for actual human beings to learn the latest, relevant news from real people in real time? The 55%-ers are not Luddites. Most of this majority is techno-savvy and comfortable with useful applications whether these are the next great thing or not. Perhaps the 55%-ers are more self-assured and substantial. We assess the situation in hand and adjust our actions accordingly. Fortunately very little is crucially immediate.
Of course there exists a need for efficient communication in real emergencies, especially in the violent, uncertain times evident in our time. There are truly useful applications for Twitter-like applications. Knowing that the highway you drive to work has an hour backup can save time and aggravation. In-time information suits these reactive applications perfectly.
The concision required by the 140 character limit can challenge one to focus and think before thumbing. Concise is nice in its place, but consider the following tweet:
Hamlet here.Denmark stinks.Dad walks@midnight;Mom weds UncleC.’Phelia tops herself.Anybody ask me?Like I so don’t care.Crossed swords. Oops!
Thanks to Twitter concision you will not need those theatre tickets. The Hamlet experience is already yesterday. Tweet on to the next text thing. (The 55%-ers are grateful that Shakespeare wasn’t a tweeter, although he almost has as many followers as Oprah.)
Twitter will probably not go away until someone thinks up an equally annoying next great experience. Unfortunately the die has been cast for social networking applications. Recently a Pennsylvania pair, intending a world record, sent 217 thousand text messages in one month. (To be fair these were not Tweets.) Most of these were concision personified—one word messages like “LOL”. The pair racked up a phone bill for $26,000. Unfortunately the mobile provider had to write the debt off because the individuals had an unlimited no cost texting contract. The wife of one of these record breakers gave up trying to reach him by phone. Hopefully there were no real emergencies to address. Of course she wouldn’t have had the chance to tell her thumbilicious twit if she wanted to leave him either. It’s an ill wind…
Author George Eliot wrote, “Blessed is the man who, having nothing to say, abstains from giving us evidence of the fact.” Thanks anyhow, Oprah. I’ll pass.
A recent AP article by Martha Irvine, writing for USA Today, examines the Twitter madness and other social networking behaviors. The article describes the results of a recent Pew Internet & American Life Project survey that divides Americans of all ages into three groups: 45 % who love socializing via computer or mobile device, 48 % who do not, and 7% described as “conflicted about staying in constant contact.”
One cannot escape Twitter. We are led to believe that those without continuous connection to total strangers are antediluvian. Self-esteem is determined by the number of friends and followers one amasses. Oprah claimed 100,000 Twitter followers within hours of setting up her Tweeter presence.
But, wait a minute. Look at the Pew survey numbers again. Only 45% of the population love incessant socializing via computers and mobile devices. If the percentage of those “who do not” incorporate with the “conflicted” a majority of 55% emerges. Is this majority unaware of every other news article and their favorite news journalist’s continual claims that everyone—read “them”—tweets? Why haven’t the 55%-ers embraced this hot phenomenon? Are they twits too?
The hype is manipulative. The tyranny of the minority tries to convince the majority to follow. It’s Madison Avenue in cyberspades. Is that 55% too embarrassed to speak up?
Well, I’m not. I have refused numerous e-invites to become someone’s “friend.” (Web bots become quite indignant when you turn down their invitations!) I don’t need to have my mobile phone glued to my ear. I use IM for work purposes only and “chat” very occasionally. If you have a Facebook page don’t tell me about it. If you’re eating a greasy burger in St. Paul I don’t want to hear about. It’s not all about you. Sorry.
Here’s my unembarrassed stand on Twitter. Quite frankly, I’m not important enough to need continuous attachment to 500 total strangers. Actually I like the freedom inconsequence brings. But I do recognize importance. The vast majority of tweets and Facebook-like entries are banal, trivial. It’s noise, and I like solitude. Norman Cousins wrote that “a life without silence is a life without privacy.” I’m very big on privacy—mine and yours. Most of what passes for cyber-connectedness is ersatz relationship.
Those of us in that 55% are not out of the loop; we prefer that the loop not choke. Would it not be refreshing and charming for actual human beings to learn the latest, relevant news from real people in real time? The 55%-ers are not Luddites. Most of this majority is techno-savvy and comfortable with useful applications whether these are the next great thing or not. Perhaps the 55%-ers are more self-assured and substantial. We assess the situation in hand and adjust our actions accordingly. Fortunately very little is crucially immediate.
Of course there exists a need for efficient communication in real emergencies, especially in the violent, uncertain times evident in our time. There are truly useful applications for Twitter-like applications. Knowing that the highway you drive to work has an hour backup can save time and aggravation. In-time information suits these reactive applications perfectly.
The concision required by the 140 character limit can challenge one to focus and think before thumbing. Concise is nice in its place, but consider the following tweet:
Hamlet here.Denmark stinks.Dad walks@midnight;Mom weds UncleC.’Phelia tops herself.Anybody ask me?Like I so don’t care.Crossed swords. Oops!
Thanks to Twitter concision you will not need those theatre tickets. The Hamlet experience is already yesterday. Tweet on to the next text thing. (The 55%-ers are grateful that Shakespeare wasn’t a tweeter, although he almost has as many followers as Oprah.)
Twitter will probably not go away until someone thinks up an equally annoying next great experience. Unfortunately the die has been cast for social networking applications. Recently a Pennsylvania pair, intending a world record, sent 217 thousand text messages in one month. (To be fair these were not Tweets.) Most of these were concision personified—one word messages like “LOL”. The pair racked up a phone bill for $26,000. Unfortunately the mobile provider had to write the debt off because the individuals had an unlimited no cost texting contract. The wife of one of these record breakers gave up trying to reach him by phone. Hopefully there were no real emergencies to address. Of course she wouldn’t have had the chance to tell her thumbilicious twit if she wanted to leave him either. It’s an ill wind…
Author George Eliot wrote, “Blessed is the man who, having nothing to say, abstains from giving us evidence of the fact.” Thanks anyhow, Oprah. I’ll pass.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Gullible's Travels: Shibui
Balboa Park is enjoyed by native San Diegans as well as visitors. Its parks, gardens, and museums team with activity in this usually nice year-round climate. I say 'usually' because San Diego was cold, wet, and gloomy. Yes, they desperately need the rain and the mayor has initiated a water rationing plan that will begin this summer. However, for the winter-weary it was disappointing.
Despite the weather I visited several museums and galleries in the park. The buildings, since replaced with studier replicas, were built for the 1918 World's Fair that was designed to celebrate the opening of the Panama Canal. Balboa 'discovered' the Pacific Ocean so who better to name the park after. The park is also home to the famous San Diego Zoo which I also visited. It was a second trip to the zoo, but the pandas had not been installed on my last visit. It was special to see them and the koalas.
My favorite museum was the Mingei International Museum which specializes in the presentation of contemporary folk art, craft, and design from world cultures. Not withstanding the ugly and misleading caricatures outside the building, the museum's collection is beautiful, thought provoking, and diverse. Of particular interest was the Japanese exhibit demonstrating the concept of Shibui.
According to WikiPedia http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shibui "Shibui is a Japanese word which refers to a particular aesthetic of simple, subtle, and unobtrusive beauty...(that) can apply to a wide variety of subjects, not just art or fashion." Its original meaning, dating from the 14th century, suggested "astringent taste." Since the 17th century, the term defines anything "that was beautiful by being understated, or by being precisely what it was meant to be and not elaborated upon. Essentially, the aesthetic ideal of shibumi seeks out events, performances, people or objects that are beautiful in a direct and simple way, without being flashy." Shibui embraces the arts of the people.
The Museum exhibit enlarges on this definition. Shibui craftsmanship reflects a utilitarian and unadorned philosophy. The objects included in the collection are simple, everyday essentials of the common man. The exhibit includes dinnerware, chairs, clothes, and other everyday objects. Materials are natural and functional. Yet each is a work of art. Herein the paradox reveals itself.
Shibui translates well into European examples that are more familiar to me. What appears commonplace necessity, utilitarian, stripped of all non-essentials becomes rare and beautiful. Shibui is as elegant in its simplicity as the beautiful mathematical formula, epitomized in Einstein's equation E = mc². It is puissant in application, like a cosmic singularity. A shibui object is absolute potentiality veiled in functionality. The acerbic becomes a terrible beauty.
Both the haiku and an example of medieval Irish poetry demonstrate this concept in the language arts.
A splash of lightning sparks,
Forsythia;
Spring opening here today!
[Author unknown from The Haiku Anthology, n.d.]
The Sea
Look you out
northeastwards
over mighty ocean,
teaming with sea-life;
home of seals,
sporting, splendid,
its tide has reached
fullness.
[Medieval Irish Lyrics, translated by James Carney. Mount Rath Portlaoise, Ireland: Domen Press Ltd, c 1967, 1985, p. 41. The Irish poetry is elegant in the original Gaelic, but an English translation will have to do.]
In these comparisons and examples I realized that Shibui summons my memory of the essential Epicurean goal of ataraxia, which translates as tranquility, equanimity, and repose of mind. In this paradox the Epicurean becomes Stoic. The cold rain no longer causes irritation. Viewing the crafts of Japanese artisans helped banish the winter in my mind. I was exactly where I wanted to be, simple and unassuming.
We would do well to seek shibui/ataraxia in our daily lives, and more importantly, in our souls.
Despite the weather I visited several museums and galleries in the park. The buildings, since replaced with studier replicas, were built for the 1918 World's Fair that was designed to celebrate the opening of the Panama Canal. Balboa 'discovered' the Pacific Ocean so who better to name the park after. The park is also home to the famous San Diego Zoo which I also visited. It was a second trip to the zoo, but the pandas had not been installed on my last visit. It was special to see them and the koalas.
My favorite museum was the Mingei International Museum which specializes in the presentation of contemporary folk art, craft, and design from world cultures. Not withstanding the ugly and misleading caricatures outside the building, the museum's collection is beautiful, thought provoking, and diverse. Of particular interest was the Japanese exhibit demonstrating the concept of Shibui.
According to WikiPedia http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shibui "Shibui is a Japanese word which refers to a particular aesthetic of simple, subtle, and unobtrusive beauty...(that) can apply to a wide variety of subjects, not just art or fashion." Its original meaning, dating from the 14th century, suggested "astringent taste." Since the 17th century, the term defines anything "that was beautiful by being understated, or by being precisely what it was meant to be and not elaborated upon. Essentially, the aesthetic ideal of shibumi seeks out events, performances, people or objects that are beautiful in a direct and simple way, without being flashy." Shibui embraces the arts of the people.
The Museum exhibit enlarges on this definition. Shibui craftsmanship reflects a utilitarian and unadorned philosophy. The objects included in the collection are simple, everyday essentials of the common man. The exhibit includes dinnerware, chairs, clothes, and other everyday objects. Materials are natural and functional. Yet each is a work of art. Herein the paradox reveals itself.
Shibui translates well into European examples that are more familiar to me. What appears commonplace necessity, utilitarian, stripped of all non-essentials becomes rare and beautiful. Shibui is as elegant in its simplicity as the beautiful mathematical formula, epitomized in Einstein's equation E = mc². It is puissant in application, like a cosmic singularity. A shibui object is absolute potentiality veiled in functionality. The acerbic becomes a terrible beauty.
Both the haiku and an example of medieval Irish poetry demonstrate this concept in the language arts.
A splash of lightning sparks,
Forsythia;
Spring opening here today!
[Author unknown from The Haiku Anthology, n.d.]
The Sea
Look you out
northeastwards
over mighty ocean,
teaming with sea-life;
home of seals,
sporting, splendid,
its tide has reached
fullness.
[Medieval Irish Lyrics, translated by James Carney. Mount Rath Portlaoise, Ireland: Domen Press Ltd, c 1967, 1985, p. 41. The Irish poetry is elegant in the original Gaelic, but an English translation will have to do.]
In these comparisons and examples I realized that Shibui summons my memory of the essential Epicurean goal of ataraxia, which translates as tranquility, equanimity, and repose of mind. In this paradox the Epicurean becomes Stoic. The cold rain no longer causes irritation. Viewing the crafts of Japanese artisans helped banish the winter in my mind. I was exactly where I wanted to be, simple and unassuming.
We would do well to seek shibui/ataraxia in our daily lives, and more importantly, in our souls.
Tuesday, March 03, 2009
Gullible's Travels: A Transcendental Interlude
We’ve just returned from southern California which is home to some of the country’s mega-mega churches. The thrill of breathing the same air with folks who attend the Crystal Cathedral or with the super-preacher, Rich Warren, sends shivers down my spinal column. How can such a rarefied atmosphere not affect one?
I think it might have. While preparing dinner last evening I asked my husband to bring in a few potatoes from the larder. He brought three, one of which was naturally shaped like a heart. “Wow, call Jerry Springer.” I cried. I looked more closely at my “love potato.” Could it be? If I looked very closely—preferably with my glasses off—did I really see the face of the Lord? An amazing wonder lay on the counter, Jesus in the Potato.
It was truly a wondrous miracle, especially after cutting into three onions before finding one that wasn’t rotten. “Jesus in the Potato, praise the Lord!” Others have seen such miraculous wonders in wax drippings or on the walls of a Chicago viaduct. In fact, “Our Lady of the Underpass” is scheduled for the PBS pledge drive tonight. Now I have had a visitation worthy of the 6 o’clock news. The Lord had chosen my kitchen counter and I was inspired.
I brought the potato into hubby’s den. In my best ministerial voice I proclaimed, “Alleluia! Jesus has chosen to appear in my potato. Send money, brother, and I will praise the Lord in your name.” Hubby was curiously unimpressed. His attention was focused on the 250 plus stock market losses of the day. Philistine!
“Brother, the Lord wants me to save you.” I held the potato high in the air as I invoked higher powers. While doing so, I glanced at the back of the Jesus Potato. Sure enough, it revealed the three-quarters profile of a squirrel. “Alleluia! Jesus is speaking through this humble cook. Send money. The Lord loves you, hubby. And he loves the ground squirrels enough to share my potato.”
I explained that the Lord’s message to the world was clear. “Send money. Send money so the Lord and I can build a Squirrel Haven.” My husband is a particular sinner with respect to Jesus’ chosen rodent. He has been destroying nests high up in the oak tree again. “Alleluia! Jesus and the squirrel on my potato can only mean that I have been chosen to shelter the least of His creatures. Send money!”
Hubby offered to send money for a ‘Squirrel Heaven’ which reflects a certain insensitivity on his part. “Jesus in the Potato is a sign, you sinner.” I was pulling out all stops. “You need to be saved. Send money. This Potato was sent for your redemption.”
“More like for my dinner,” he mumbled.
As I left his den, sincerely praying for his squirrel hating soul, I tried to think of other ways to get my message to true believers while converting the doubtful. I rushed back into the den. “Jesus in the Potato has one final message. It’s your last chance. Send money.” My husband turned on his favorite news program, wondering if dinner would ever make it to the table. “You’re going to be watching me on that TV,” I prophesied.
He turned to look at me. “What’s Jesus’ final message?”
I knew I had him now. “Well,” I said. “Jesus also says that 'Roland Burris is the best man for the job'. So there!” He tossed me a quarter.
Returning to the kitchen, I whispered under my breath, “Praise the Lord.”
Alleluia! I only needed two of those potatoes so I decided to spare the ‘Jesus in the Potato’ potato—at least as long as the donations continue to trickle in.
Who says travel isn’t rewarding?
I think it might have. While preparing dinner last evening I asked my husband to bring in a few potatoes from the larder. He brought three, one of which was naturally shaped like a heart. “Wow, call Jerry Springer.” I cried. I looked more closely at my “love potato.” Could it be? If I looked very closely—preferably with my glasses off—did I really see the face of the Lord? An amazing wonder lay on the counter, Jesus in the Potato.
It was truly a wondrous miracle, especially after cutting into three onions before finding one that wasn’t rotten. “Jesus in the Potato, praise the Lord!” Others have seen such miraculous wonders in wax drippings or on the walls of a Chicago viaduct. In fact, “Our Lady of the Underpass” is scheduled for the PBS pledge drive tonight. Now I have had a visitation worthy of the 6 o’clock news. The Lord had chosen my kitchen counter and I was inspired.
I brought the potato into hubby’s den. In my best ministerial voice I proclaimed, “Alleluia! Jesus has chosen to appear in my potato. Send money, brother, and I will praise the Lord in your name.” Hubby was curiously unimpressed. His attention was focused on the 250 plus stock market losses of the day. Philistine!
“Brother, the Lord wants me to save you.” I held the potato high in the air as I invoked higher powers. While doing so, I glanced at the back of the Jesus Potato. Sure enough, it revealed the three-quarters profile of a squirrel. “Alleluia! Jesus is speaking through this humble cook. Send money. The Lord loves you, hubby. And he loves the ground squirrels enough to share my potato.”
I explained that the Lord’s message to the world was clear. “Send money. Send money so the Lord and I can build a Squirrel Haven.” My husband is a particular sinner with respect to Jesus’ chosen rodent. He has been destroying nests high up in the oak tree again. “Alleluia! Jesus and the squirrel on my potato can only mean that I have been chosen to shelter the least of His creatures. Send money!”
Hubby offered to send money for a ‘Squirrel Heaven’ which reflects a certain insensitivity on his part. “Jesus in the Potato is a sign, you sinner.” I was pulling out all stops. “You need to be saved. Send money. This Potato was sent for your redemption.”
“More like for my dinner,” he mumbled.
As I left his den, sincerely praying for his squirrel hating soul, I tried to think of other ways to get my message to true believers while converting the doubtful. I rushed back into the den. “Jesus in the Potato has one final message. It’s your last chance. Send money.” My husband turned on his favorite news program, wondering if dinner would ever make it to the table. “You’re going to be watching me on that TV,” I prophesied.
He turned to look at me. “What’s Jesus’ final message?”
I knew I had him now. “Well,” I said. “Jesus also says that 'Roland Burris is the best man for the job'. So there!” He tossed me a quarter.
Returning to the kitchen, I whispered under my breath, “Praise the Lord.”
Alleluia! I only needed two of those potatoes so I decided to spare the ‘Jesus in the Potato’ potato—at least as long as the donations continue to trickle in.
Who says travel isn’t rewarding?
Friday, February 20, 2009
Gullible's Travels
Travel should broaden one’s perspective. We have just returned from a three week trip away from winter. The ‘away from winter’ part wasn’t very successful, but the first week’s weather was nice. Our initial stop was Phoenix, AZ. It’s been about 15 years since we were in Phoenix. The growth of this area is phenomenal. The temperature was in the mid 80s, very nice indeed for winter-weary Midwesterners. However it is extremely dry and the cooling effects of perspiration do not apply. All that glitters is not your damp skin.
Phoenix is an easy city to navigate as long as you don’t confuse Streets with Avenues. We did and I nearly got heat stroke looking for the Museum of Geology. Fortunately some very nice people in an attorney’s office took pity on us, offering cold bottles of water and a place to splash cool water on my very red and hot face. They were kind and helpful to the two senior yokels who stumbled into their offices on 15th Street. Unfortunately we should have been on 15th Avenue. Back to the map…
Both young people and middle aged people were amazing courteous throughout the city. We never entered a bus or the new and nice light rail without someone offering a seat, giving a smile. People answered questions and would phone for directions if needed. This rapidly growing city has not lost its small town character. Folks care about each other in Phoenix. What a nice change.
As is our habit, we visit libraries wherever we can. The main branch of the Phoenix Public Library System was very modern. Some of their ideas were very innovative. Some things were a surprise. On the front door of the library there is a sign which reads: “No weapons allowed in the library. Please check your weapons at the security desk.” Oh my! That’s not a sign this librarian is accustomed to seeing. Of course it perfectly legal to carry concealed weapons in AZ; probably better to expect people to have them. I wonder what the compliance rate is for checking them at security. It’s just not something you expect—perspective broadening though.
Phoenix, as a location, is not really new. There was a thriving Native population living there several hundreds years ago. The Hohokam devised a system of irrigation canals that could not be bettered by modern engineers. The area was a center of trade and the early Native Americans traveled over large areas to trade. Agriculture flourished. The Pueblo Grande Museum features archeological ruins that indicate sophisticated astronomical knowledge. The Hohokam loved their sports. A game court provided a means to excel. Only one problem however, the winners lost their heads—literally. One really needs to think about that outcome!
More about our winter get away later; Southern California chapter coming soon.
Phoenix is an easy city to navigate as long as you don’t confuse Streets with Avenues. We did and I nearly got heat stroke looking for the Museum of Geology. Fortunately some very nice people in an attorney’s office took pity on us, offering cold bottles of water and a place to splash cool water on my very red and hot face. They were kind and helpful to the two senior yokels who stumbled into their offices on 15th Street. Unfortunately we should have been on 15th Avenue. Back to the map…
Both young people and middle aged people were amazing courteous throughout the city. We never entered a bus or the new and nice light rail without someone offering a seat, giving a smile. People answered questions and would phone for directions if needed. This rapidly growing city has not lost its small town character. Folks care about each other in Phoenix. What a nice change.
As is our habit, we visit libraries wherever we can. The main branch of the Phoenix Public Library System was very modern. Some of their ideas were very innovative. Some things were a surprise. On the front door of the library there is a sign which reads: “No weapons allowed in the library. Please check your weapons at the security desk.” Oh my! That’s not a sign this librarian is accustomed to seeing. Of course it perfectly legal to carry concealed weapons in AZ; probably better to expect people to have them. I wonder what the compliance rate is for checking them at security. It’s just not something you expect—perspective broadening though.
Phoenix, as a location, is not really new. There was a thriving Native population living there several hundreds years ago. The Hohokam devised a system of irrigation canals that could not be bettered by modern engineers. The area was a center of trade and the early Native Americans traveled over large areas to trade. Agriculture flourished. The Pueblo Grande Museum features archeological ruins that indicate sophisticated astronomical knowledge. The Hohokam loved their sports. A game court provided a means to excel. Only one problem however, the winners lost their heads—literally. One really needs to think about that outcome!
More about our winter get away later; Southern California chapter coming soon.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Shakespeare in Thumbish
J/W 2B or not 2B? BTHOOM;
IDK IIMAD MEGO. Head’s FURTB. WIM.
Life’s MUBAR. TAR*U TRDMC;
LABATYD. TSNF.
DWBH CTA NVNG.
EOL ::poof:: GNSD.
NG FF & PN;
G4I.
Hamlet Act III, Scene i, lines 56-64.
This is a sample of how the Bard might have written this portion of the famous soliloquy if he was twenty-something texting to his friends.
For a translation see http://www.netlingo.com/emailsh.cfm
* Many of the chat acronyms and text message shorthand phrases include crude language. Some are included but I have omitted a letter I find totally unacceptable.
IDK IIMAD MEGO. Head’s FURTB. WIM.
Life’s MUBAR. TAR*U TRDMC;
LABATYD. TSNF.
DWBH CTA NVNG.
EOL ::poof:: GNSD.
NG FF & PN;
G4I.
Hamlet Act III, Scene i, lines 56-64.
This is a sample of how the Bard might have written this portion of the famous soliloquy if he was twenty-something texting to his friends.
For a translation see http://www.netlingo.com/emailsh.cfm
* Many of the chat acronyms and text message shorthand phrases include crude language. Some are included but I have omitted a letter I find totally unacceptable.
Monday, January 05, 2009
A Justification for The Godfather Part III
I don’t know what planet I’ve been on but I’d never seen Part Three of the Godfather before. The series is a guilty pleasure for me. As an Italian-American I should decry its depiction of Italians; as a movie lover I can watch it over and over. So why have I never seen the final episode until now?
One reason has to be the fact that it’s not very good. Performances are inconsistent; the focus unsteady; the plot unfolds in fits and starts. Its narrative does not enhance Puzo’s original story. Yet Part III is widely viewed. Is the collective taste of the American movie public so banal that people will throw their money at anything with the Godfather cache despite its merits? There must be a reason this film is important.
This question prompted some thought. At the center of all Italian culture is the FAMILY. Even though my family is not Sicilian, family-centricity is the keystone of Italian culture. The Godfather is certainly about family! Because this is an Italian family, the Roman Catholic family of Christ must add its woof to the weave. A sacramental sub-theme permeates all three parts of the series. Was this a conscious choice on Coppola’s part, or a ghost from a Catholic school past? I needed to consider how family, Sicily, and faith feature throughout the entire Godfather series in order to find justification for Part Three.
* * * *
In Part One the nuclear Corleone family frames the story. This necessarily includes Vito Corleone’s immediate family—more specifically his sons. In addition an extended, closely knit, mostly Sicilian, crime family is foundational to the story. These are the capos and soldiers of the godfather’s molecular family. Associated crime families of the greater New York area complete the picture. Difficulties arise when the concept of extended family seeks fulfillment beyond the molecular because the components refuse to bind.
The Corleone family has its roots in Sicily, where family honor and loyalty are paramount. It is Sicilian vendetta for the murder of his family that brings Vito to America. All three segments of the Godfather reflect an indivisible bond with the family’s Sicilian roots, both genetically and criminally. Sicily, the fountainhead, will provide whenever and however required. Sicilian ties bind tightly. The island’s history is far older than the Roman Catholic religion.
Sicily and its people endured. The triumph of their survival, after centuries of invasion and subjugation, is manifest because the only thing a Sicilian could rely on was family. The fierce loyalty and codes of conduct provided the Sicilian family with a narrow margin for survival. Sicilian survival becomes the metaphor for the immigrant’s struggle to survive in the United States.
This first segment of the Godfather begins with the wedding of the Don’s daughter. Marriages make and extend families. Matrimony is a sacrament in the Roman Catholic religion. Connie’s marriage enlarges the Corleone family in concrete and symbolic ways. Part One of the series elaborates on the sacrament of Matrimony and the ties that bind it to Sicily when Michael marries Appollonia who is murdered before he can return to the USA and his pre-ordained fate. Marriage continues to prompt the story when Michael marries again, this time to his American love, Kay. The Corleone family becomes a triune entity—personal, Sicilian, and American.
Matrimony is not the only Catholic sacrament featured in Part One. In a perverse sense, the Godfather co-opts the sacrament of Confirmation. When a Catholic is confirmed, he or she becomes a “soldier of Christ.” The Corleone crime family has its own soldiers. Confirmation creates the church militant to protect the faith. The criminal militants defend their Don and his anti-Christ Capos.
A third sacrament is notable for its absence. It is the Sacrament of Last Rites, also known as Extreme Unction. The church blesses the body of the dying person. External sense organs are anointed as the body is sent on its way to God. “Through this holy unction and His own tender mercy may the Lord pardon thee of whatever sins or faults thou hast committed by sight, hearing, smell, taste, touch, walking, carnal delectation.” Vito Corleone and his son, Sonny, die without the spiritual comfort of this sacrament. After his death Vito’s unblessed body is prodded with a stick that his innocent grandson wields. The stick, a symbol of power, mocks the old man. In death Rome—not Sicily—has the last word.
There is yet another sacrament with a role to play in Part One. The sacrament of Baptism introduces the innocent infant into the family of faith. The child is reborn into the family of Christ. In this sacrament the godparents renounce the devil for the infant. They stand ready to protect innocence from evil. The godparents vow to become surrogate parents for the child. Puzo’s choice of the term “godfather” evokes the paternal sacramental role as well as the Sicilian connotation. Don Corleone is surrogate father to his crime family. Michael is surrogate father to his sister’s son.
In the baptismal sequence this sacrament becomes sacrilege as Michael sets in motion the maelstrom that will “settle all family business” at the same time that he stands godfather to his nephew. His actions embrace the devil; good is renounced. Sicilian vendetta sanctifies a baptism-in-blood that brings with it eternal death. Innocence is slaughtered. The baby’s father is murdered by his godfather Michael Corleone. Surrogation becomes usurpation. As Part I ends Michael is acknowledged as Godfather to the Corleone crime family.
* * * *
Part Two expands the idea of family, forming a national “brotherhood” of crime. The Corleones have moved west, but their interests extend to the East Coast, Florida, and Cuba. Its tentacles include national politicians, legitimate businessmen, and alien religion. The combination proves lethal. Can loyalty and trust survive strangers?
Michael initiates a “Cuban marriage” with Jewish mobster Hyman Roth. This marriage fails. Problems on the East Coast multiply. Familial ties suffer at a distance. They are diluted when non-Sicilians are included. Michael is reminded that his father did business with and respected Hyman Roth, but “your father never trusted Hyman Roth.”
There seems no way to establish lasting trust that is not based on the Sicilian model. The old ways and codes of loyalty lose their meaning. Americanization allows the ‘individual’ to intrude. Over-extension and self-interest strain loyalty. Corleone brother, Fredo, betrays the Family from within because he is looking for “a little something for myself.” The sin of fratricide rends the familial fabric irrevocably, as does Kay’s abortion. Vendetta turns in on itself.
Part Two’s sacramental feature is the Holy Eucharist, familiarly known as Holy Communion. Michael’s son, Tony, is the First Communicant. The sacrament symbolizes the unification of the church faithful who partake in the body and blood of Christ, the food that brings eternal life. Holy Communion is an important step towards joining the family of Christ once the age of reason has been reached. It can only be undertaken when the individual is capable of distinguishing right from wrong. The boy’s father seems not to value this distinction. Holy Communion is usually preceded by receiving the sacrament of Confession which will be introduced in Part Three.
The sharing of food in an Italian family has special significance. Communal meals are important; they affirm the family. Food renews life; family sustains that life. Italians have a proverb, “Se si mangia, non hai mai morire.” (If you eat, you never die.) In the Communion hymn, “The Supper of the Lord” by Laurence Rosania, there is the phrase, “you that eat this bread shall never die.” In the sacrament the Eucharistic participant is nourished by Christ’s body and blood. The Eucharist promises eternal life for the family of Christ. The Corleone Crime Family feeds on the food of corruption and death. [to be continued]
© SMB/ettsme.blogspot.com
One reason has to be the fact that it’s not very good. Performances are inconsistent; the focus unsteady; the plot unfolds in fits and starts. Its narrative does not enhance Puzo’s original story. Yet Part III is widely viewed. Is the collective taste of the American movie public so banal that people will throw their money at anything with the Godfather cache despite its merits? There must be a reason this film is important.
This question prompted some thought. At the center of all Italian culture is the FAMILY. Even though my family is not Sicilian, family-centricity is the keystone of Italian culture. The Godfather is certainly about family! Because this is an Italian family, the Roman Catholic family of Christ must add its woof to the weave. A sacramental sub-theme permeates all three parts of the series. Was this a conscious choice on Coppola’s part, or a ghost from a Catholic school past? I needed to consider how family, Sicily, and faith feature throughout the entire Godfather series in order to find justification for Part Three.
* * * *
In Part One the nuclear Corleone family frames the story. This necessarily includes Vito Corleone’s immediate family—more specifically his sons. In addition an extended, closely knit, mostly Sicilian, crime family is foundational to the story. These are the capos and soldiers of the godfather’s molecular family. Associated crime families of the greater New York area complete the picture. Difficulties arise when the concept of extended family seeks fulfillment beyond the molecular because the components refuse to bind.
The Corleone family has its roots in Sicily, where family honor and loyalty are paramount. It is Sicilian vendetta for the murder of his family that brings Vito to America. All three segments of the Godfather reflect an indivisible bond with the family’s Sicilian roots, both genetically and criminally. Sicily, the fountainhead, will provide whenever and however required. Sicilian ties bind tightly. The island’s history is far older than the Roman Catholic religion.
Sicily and its people endured. The triumph of their survival, after centuries of invasion and subjugation, is manifest because the only thing a Sicilian could rely on was family. The fierce loyalty and codes of conduct provided the Sicilian family with a narrow margin for survival. Sicilian survival becomes the metaphor for the immigrant’s struggle to survive in the United States.
This first segment of the Godfather begins with the wedding of the Don’s daughter. Marriages make and extend families. Matrimony is a sacrament in the Roman Catholic religion. Connie’s marriage enlarges the Corleone family in concrete and symbolic ways. Part One of the series elaborates on the sacrament of Matrimony and the ties that bind it to Sicily when Michael marries Appollonia who is murdered before he can return to the USA and his pre-ordained fate. Marriage continues to prompt the story when Michael marries again, this time to his American love, Kay. The Corleone family becomes a triune entity—personal, Sicilian, and American.
Matrimony is not the only Catholic sacrament featured in Part One. In a perverse sense, the Godfather co-opts the sacrament of Confirmation. When a Catholic is confirmed, he or she becomes a “soldier of Christ.” The Corleone crime family has its own soldiers. Confirmation creates the church militant to protect the faith. The criminal militants defend their Don and his anti-Christ Capos.
A third sacrament is notable for its absence. It is the Sacrament of Last Rites, also known as Extreme Unction. The church blesses the body of the dying person. External sense organs are anointed as the body is sent on its way to God. “Through this holy unction and His own tender mercy may the Lord pardon thee of whatever sins or faults thou hast committed by sight, hearing, smell, taste, touch, walking, carnal delectation.” Vito Corleone and his son, Sonny, die without the spiritual comfort of this sacrament. After his death Vito’s unblessed body is prodded with a stick that his innocent grandson wields. The stick, a symbol of power, mocks the old man. In death Rome—not Sicily—has the last word.
There is yet another sacrament with a role to play in Part One. The sacrament of Baptism introduces the innocent infant into the family of faith. The child is reborn into the family of Christ. In this sacrament the godparents renounce the devil for the infant. They stand ready to protect innocence from evil. The godparents vow to become surrogate parents for the child. Puzo’s choice of the term “godfather” evokes the paternal sacramental role as well as the Sicilian connotation. Don Corleone is surrogate father to his crime family. Michael is surrogate father to his sister’s son.
In the baptismal sequence this sacrament becomes sacrilege as Michael sets in motion the maelstrom that will “settle all family business” at the same time that he stands godfather to his nephew. His actions embrace the devil; good is renounced. Sicilian vendetta sanctifies a baptism-in-blood that brings with it eternal death. Innocence is slaughtered. The baby’s father is murdered by his godfather Michael Corleone. Surrogation becomes usurpation. As Part I ends Michael is acknowledged as Godfather to the Corleone crime family.
* * * *
Part Two expands the idea of family, forming a national “brotherhood” of crime. The Corleones have moved west, but their interests extend to the East Coast, Florida, and Cuba. Its tentacles include national politicians, legitimate businessmen, and alien religion. The combination proves lethal. Can loyalty and trust survive strangers?
Michael initiates a “Cuban marriage” with Jewish mobster Hyman Roth. This marriage fails. Problems on the East Coast multiply. Familial ties suffer at a distance. They are diluted when non-Sicilians are included. Michael is reminded that his father did business with and respected Hyman Roth, but “your father never trusted Hyman Roth.”
There seems no way to establish lasting trust that is not based on the Sicilian model. The old ways and codes of loyalty lose their meaning. Americanization allows the ‘individual’ to intrude. Over-extension and self-interest strain loyalty. Corleone brother, Fredo, betrays the Family from within because he is looking for “a little something for myself.” The sin of fratricide rends the familial fabric irrevocably, as does Kay’s abortion. Vendetta turns in on itself.
Part Two’s sacramental feature is the Holy Eucharist, familiarly known as Holy Communion. Michael’s son, Tony, is the First Communicant. The sacrament symbolizes the unification of the church faithful who partake in the body and blood of Christ, the food that brings eternal life. Holy Communion is an important step towards joining the family of Christ once the age of reason has been reached. It can only be undertaken when the individual is capable of distinguishing right from wrong. The boy’s father seems not to value this distinction. Holy Communion is usually preceded by receiving the sacrament of Confession which will be introduced in Part Three.
The sharing of food in an Italian family has special significance. Communal meals are important; they affirm the family. Food renews life; family sustains that life. Italians have a proverb, “Se si mangia, non hai mai morire.” (If you eat, you never die.) In the Communion hymn, “The Supper of the Lord” by Laurence Rosania, there is the phrase, “you that eat this bread shall never die.” In the sacrament the Eucharistic participant is nourished by Christ’s body and blood. The Eucharist promises eternal life for the family of Christ. The Corleone Crime Family feeds on the food of corruption and death. [to be continued]
© SMB/ettsme.blogspot.com
A Justification for the Godfather Part III, continued...
How does the Godfather Part Three complete the Sicilian family and sacramental sub-themes? In Part Three Michael seeks to extend his family’s power globally. He intends to capitalize on corruption within the Roman Catholic Church. Michael plans to buy or muscle his way in through a charity named in honor of his father. He has become a Commander in order of Saint Sebastian, who is the patron saint of soldiers (q.v. Part One, Confirmation), athletes, and, ironically reprising Michael’s first murder, municipal policemen. Corleone’s goal is to purchase the Vatican’s shares of the powerful international corporation, Immobiliare. But Rome is not Sicily, New York, or Cuba. Such a mixture may prove too rich.
Michael’s honors and success contrast with his failure in the things that matter. His nuclear family has been sundered through fratricide, abortion, divorce, estrangement. The molecular family’s bonds are friable. Alliances are framed by those who do not know or care to know the old Sicilian ways. Michael has lost his grip and the Corleone Family’s heir apparent emerges from a bastardly link.
Sonny’s illegitimate son, Vincent, reprises his grandfather’s lust for revenge. He uses the ancient Sicilian method of issuing a challenge when he bites off the ear of Joey Zaza whom he feels lacks respect for the Family. Vincent kills without conscience both in New York and in Sicily. The king is dead, long live the king.
No matter how wealthy and powerful Michael Corleone has become, Part III reveals a Godfather greatly diminished. His daughter, Mary, is the front for a charitable initiative that has international tentacles way beyond her ken. Michael permits his sister, Connie, to interfere in family business. In this era no Italian family worth its salt would allow women to be equal with the men in things that matter!
Why can Michael no longer maintain Family cohesion? Michael, Kay, and Mary return to Sicily for son Anthony’s operatic debut. Michael attempts to use the visit to justify his actions. He seeks renewal at the ancient fountainhead. Family loyalty distinguishes the Sicilian persona, but Sicily cannot offer succor as it once could. The Corleone Family business no longer receives instantiation from Sicily. American ways altered the centers of power, but all the power on earth can’t change fate.
The trip to Sicily ends in tragedy when Michael’s daughter Mary is killed by a bullet intended for her father. In Roman Catholic belief the Son of God became the sacrificial offering for the sins of the family of man. Mary is the lamb who must die for the sins of her family. Christ’s blood was shed to bring forgiveness. The hot blood of revenge consumes contrition.
The remaining sacraments make their appearance in Part Three. Michael receives the sacrament of Confession from Cardinal Lamberto who is destined to become Pope. In a cathartic scene Michael confesses to the murder of his brother Fredo. However, the Cardinal rightly estimates that the sacramental admonition “go and sin no more” will not be realized in Michael’s case. Absolvo te?
In keeping with the sacramental sub-theme, the last of the seven sacraments is woven within the Godfather saga in Part Three. It is not a sacrament the laity receives. It is limited to the priesthood. We learn that Tom Hagen’s son is now a priest, having received the sacrament of Holy Orders. The family uses its influence to get the young man to Rome, which could prove to be almost as good as having a judge or two in your pocket.
The anointing of Michael’s Confessor as pope is the highest expression of this sacrament. The patronage of Cardinal Lamberto, now Pope John Paul I and head of the Vatican, could bring success to Michael’s plan to buy up the shares of Immobiliare. This final sacrament becomes sacrilege when the pope is assassinated, taking with him all hope of fulfilling Michael’s global ambitions.
Finally, as in the first part, we have a death without benefit of the Last Rites when Michael, like his father, dies unanointed. It is an appropriate end to a life lived in contraindication to everything the Catholic faith should stand to mean. Michael, and most of his crime family, will probably be damned. A dog, symbolizing Cerberus who guards the gates of Hell, closes the movie as it sniffs at Michael’s dead body.
When considered according to its outcomes, ironies, and sacramental sub-theme, the Godfather has resolved into a Morality Play. Part Three essentially completes the lesson.
Power is an inconstant mistress. “For what shall it profit a man if he gain the world, and suffer the loss of his soul?” [Mark 8:36] Michael screams this truth when his daughter takes the bullet meant for him. Who can absolve him of this?
The Godfather is revealed as a false god. The movie’s apparent glorification of Sicilian American “Mafiosi” isn’t so apparent, nor does it glorify. Death festoons the Sicilian countryside. Corleone sacrilege brings eternal damnation.
The concept of family in the Godfather is a mockery of true Italian values. While the Sicilian idea of family honor has flowed as a bloody-stream throughout the three films, the destruction of the family and its dishonor has been the final result. Family honor is not the point; honoring the family is.
Part Three demonstrates these truths when the crime family implodes and vendetta comes full circle. The gates of hell await.
© SMB/ettsme.blogspot.com
Michael’s honors and success contrast with his failure in the things that matter. His nuclear family has been sundered through fratricide, abortion, divorce, estrangement. The molecular family’s bonds are friable. Alliances are framed by those who do not know or care to know the old Sicilian ways. Michael has lost his grip and the Corleone Family’s heir apparent emerges from a bastardly link.
Sonny’s illegitimate son, Vincent, reprises his grandfather’s lust for revenge. He uses the ancient Sicilian method of issuing a challenge when he bites off the ear of Joey Zaza whom he feels lacks respect for the Family. Vincent kills without conscience both in New York and in Sicily. The king is dead, long live the king.
No matter how wealthy and powerful Michael Corleone has become, Part III reveals a Godfather greatly diminished. His daughter, Mary, is the front for a charitable initiative that has international tentacles way beyond her ken. Michael permits his sister, Connie, to interfere in family business. In this era no Italian family worth its salt would allow women to be equal with the men in things that matter!
Why can Michael no longer maintain Family cohesion? Michael, Kay, and Mary return to Sicily for son Anthony’s operatic debut. Michael attempts to use the visit to justify his actions. He seeks renewal at the ancient fountainhead. Family loyalty distinguishes the Sicilian persona, but Sicily cannot offer succor as it once could. The Corleone Family business no longer receives instantiation from Sicily. American ways altered the centers of power, but all the power on earth can’t change fate.
The trip to Sicily ends in tragedy when Michael’s daughter Mary is killed by a bullet intended for her father. In Roman Catholic belief the Son of God became the sacrificial offering for the sins of the family of man. Mary is the lamb who must die for the sins of her family. Christ’s blood was shed to bring forgiveness. The hot blood of revenge consumes contrition.
The remaining sacraments make their appearance in Part Three. Michael receives the sacrament of Confession from Cardinal Lamberto who is destined to become Pope. In a cathartic scene Michael confesses to the murder of his brother Fredo. However, the Cardinal rightly estimates that the sacramental admonition “go and sin no more” will not be realized in Michael’s case. Absolvo te?
In keeping with the sacramental sub-theme, the last of the seven sacraments is woven within the Godfather saga in Part Three. It is not a sacrament the laity receives. It is limited to the priesthood. We learn that Tom Hagen’s son is now a priest, having received the sacrament of Holy Orders. The family uses its influence to get the young man to Rome, which could prove to be almost as good as having a judge or two in your pocket.
The anointing of Michael’s Confessor as pope is the highest expression of this sacrament. The patronage of Cardinal Lamberto, now Pope John Paul I and head of the Vatican, could bring success to Michael’s plan to buy up the shares of Immobiliare. This final sacrament becomes sacrilege when the pope is assassinated, taking with him all hope of fulfilling Michael’s global ambitions.
Finally, as in the first part, we have a death without benefit of the Last Rites when Michael, like his father, dies unanointed. It is an appropriate end to a life lived in contraindication to everything the Catholic faith should stand to mean. Michael, and most of his crime family, will probably be damned. A dog, symbolizing Cerberus who guards the gates of Hell, closes the movie as it sniffs at Michael’s dead body.
When considered according to its outcomes, ironies, and sacramental sub-theme, the Godfather has resolved into a Morality Play. Part Three essentially completes the lesson.
Power is an inconstant mistress. “For what shall it profit a man if he gain the world, and suffer the loss of his soul?” [Mark 8:36] Michael screams this truth when his daughter takes the bullet meant for him. Who can absolve him of this?
The Godfather is revealed as a false god. The movie’s apparent glorification of Sicilian American “Mafiosi” isn’t so apparent, nor does it glorify. Death festoons the Sicilian countryside. Corleone sacrilege brings eternal damnation.
The concept of family in the Godfather is a mockery of true Italian values. While the Sicilian idea of family honor has flowed as a bloody-stream throughout the three films, the destruction of the family and its dishonor has been the final result. Family honor is not the point; honoring the family is.
Part Three demonstrates these truths when the crime family implodes and vendetta comes full circle. The gates of hell await.
© SMB/ettsme.blogspot.com
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