It's not true that when you cry, you cry alone

I have often interviewed copy writers for employment. There are two things I always ask:

1. Who is your favorite writer?
2. Describe your relationship with words.

You'd be amazed (or perhaps not) at how many people interviewing for a writing job have no favorite writer and are obviously plucking names from recent memory that they think I might recognize. Some offer obscure favorites and some choose nonfiction writers (which has always surprised me, as most copy writers also write fiction and admire good fiction).

What are my answers?

1. Truman Capote. IMHO the greatest literary voice of the last century. Followed distantly but affectionately by Kurt Vonnegut and JD Salinger. (That is the only correct answer, BTW.)

2. Incestuous. Polygamous. Sinful. Rewarding. Painful. Glorious. Orgasmic. Addictive. Uncompromising. Neurotic. Psychotic. And peacefully slowly delightfully numbing, like a good stiff drink that soon wears off and must be enjoyed again.

In 7th grade, our teacher Miss Jane Emerson at Bethel Christian School gave us a fiction assignment, then read our short stories out loud, without revealing the authors' names.[1]

A pattern emerged very quickly: As Miss Emerson read each precocious story, she scanned the class vacantly, allowing pregnant pauses after especially bad sentences. Eventually the class began to interpret the pauses as punchlines.

Accordingly, the class laughed at each pause and looked around for sheepish downcast eyes so they might pin the bad writing on some mortified soul.

Finally my story rose to the top of the stack; I knew the laughter would stop, for this was serious work, and the smiles would evaporate as each in turn listened with rapt attention.

I still remember the first sentence: "The sound of falling trash cans filled the air."[2]

You already know where I'm going: They laughed even louder, so loudly that I'm sure they missed most of what followed, which as I recall involved a boy being chased through a dark alley, a flashing knife, and some blood.

I was so visually expectant, the class immediately knew I had written it, which made it all the funnier to them. I still remember Miss Emerson's gaze glancing off me ahead of a subdued grin. Gotcha. I was quite a handful in 7th grade and I think she enjoyed taking me down a notch.[3]

Little experiences like this have made me especially sensitive to others' public pain. I can't stand to watch a standup comic bomb, for example; I'll change the channel.

It's not true that when you cry, you cry alone, you just don't know who's crying with you. As long as the person is being honest with me and himself, I'm along for the ride.

English majors may remember Shelley's closing line to his Defense of Poetry: "Poets are the unacknowledged legislators of the world."[4]

Conventional leaders adjust physical elements and the relationships between them (cash, buildings, people, transportation, etc).

Poets adjust our understanding and responses to those things and their relationships.

When my time ends in this world, I will have moved people far more with my words than my actions.

And those words will remain long after there is any apparent or behavioral influence left of me; they are, in many ways, more "me" than the me that talks and walks and shits and pisses and works and rests and moves mankind along another tiny step toward extinction, for that is the end of all things.[5]

[1]
Bethel Christian School at that time was still at 737 E 26th Street in Erie, PA; Miss Em's classroom was in the southeast corner, 2nd floor, overlooking Wayne Street.

[2]
When I was a child, all trash cans were metal and made a distinctive sound when banging into each other or falling over. You can still buy metal trash cans, of course, but plastic is more common.

[3]
I only remember one teacher in my life encouraging my writing. She taught 11th grade English at McDowell High School. She was very progressive for the day. Alongside The Red Badge of Courage and The Great Gatsby we read The Bridges at Toko-Ri, Dandelion Wine, and The Amityville Horror. (I disliked Dandelion Wine; Amityville Horror scared the pants off me).

Passing thought:
I am really enjoying listening to William Peter Blatty read The Exorcist. His sequel Legion is next on my list if I can find it. I've done a lot of audio book listening over the past couple years, and Blatty is easily the most gifted writer and narrator I've encountered so far.

Legion has gotten a lot of criticism for being too talky without enough chills. However, it is precisely those talky, introspective, "the hero is deciphering this" moments that appeal to me the most.

[4]
I remember reading that for the first time, with absolutely no knowledge it was coming. Those times when you discover something afresh in classic literature, as if it were written yesterday, are rare and magic moments.

[5]
The words that accompanied the most famous event in the last 2000 years were spoken by Neil Armstrong when he stepped on the moon. ("That's one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.") "Mankind" captures a sentiment in a way more gender-neutral language can't. Someday, when sentiments change, the distinction will be lost, but today it's very real. It's a shame powerful language is often dulled by political considerations.


Started: 2012-02-21

Wie Gehts, Baby?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[1]

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[text version]
Wie Gehts, Baby?

We travel light and clueless
bruise to bruise and into
forgetfulness,

Aber
alles spins and tilts again akilter into
darkness.

Sturm und drang und
beetle dung
glomm'd thick and sludgey gel'd; and sluggish; and slow; slow-er; stille

Aber
alles stirs and lifts and floats like weightless sea
detritus.

Silence
thin as moonlight speads
o'er winking midnight snow

While angels' wings
thrum lullabies
and starlight guides us home.
endtxt}

All original work copyright me.

Started: 2012-02-21

It's amazing what you find

While researching my Kneeling Santa statuette I blogged about here, I ran across someone who collects them. I was amazed how much I was able to learn about this gentleman, just by following the bread crumbs that public records and local news reports leave.

Thank you Ray Hartman for a wonderful journey. I wish I could sit in your home and talk about your collection over a cup of coffee.

What defines our collective kitsch? What are the moving pieces between tawdry and tasteful?

You can learn more Mr Hartman's collection here.

Started: 2012-02-12

No One with a Neck Size Larger Than His Hat Size Should Be Given a Microphone

I told that to a friend after the Super Bowl. She laughed, and she likes football; she understood it was a generalization about beefy athletes, not an indictment of a physical attribute. I didn't watch the Super Bowl, and I had no person or occasion in mind, just the caricature it evokes.[1]

I was reminded of this while thinking about ESPN's use of the word "chink" in the context of Jeremy Lin, the New York Knicks basketball player who happens to be of Chinese descent.[2]

I applaud ESPN for publicly addressing it, but I am positively perplexed that anyone a) would write it, b) would repeat it, and c) would trivialize it (for example, see this article , and this one ).

Are we hypersensitive to this sort of thing? IMHO a little hypersensitivity to others' feelings isn't a bad thing. After a while, the worries about how our words are perceived fade away as we all get more comfortable with each other and aren't so quick to take offense or give it.

When I was a kid, you couldn't say the word "Jew" without sounding racist because it was used so consistently in racist contexts. You said "Jewish," and usually expanded it, ie, "people of Jewish descent" or "the Jewish faith." You still hear some of that, but not as much, because insulting speech toward that community is not nearly as common.

(I almost made A little hypersensitivity to others' feelings isn't a bad thing the title of this blog; it's strong, but I thought the neck/hat thing would pique a little more interest, especially with a picture of Lin that shows up when I post to Facebook.)

My own experience - and I'd wager it's yours too if you examine it critically - is that most hateful and insensitive speech comes from those with less education, opportunity, wealth, and exposure to people different from themselves.

No, not all, just most. My linguistics background taught me to be an analytical listener, and I've detected patterns over the years.

I believe educated and privileged racists are fewer, but influence many more who are less educated and privileged.

Part of the solution seems obvious to me.

[1]
In other words, it was meant to give an image of the type of person that has more brawn than brain and is better off resisting the temptation to exercise both.

[2]
ESPN.com editor Anthony Federico used the phrase "Chink in the armor" in a headline, and an ESPN broadcaster Max Bretos repeated it. Anthony Federico was fired and Max Bretos suspended. Bretos says his wife is Asian and he meant no harm. Both are saying the mistake was an honest one. My guess is that Bretos probably is being honest and his usage benign. When you're paid to talk, you're bound to say things that can be misinterpreted.

I'm inclined to be less generous with Anthony Federico, who says he identifies with Jeremy Lin's strong Christian faith and would never do anything to insult him. (Source, NY Daily News ) Being a writer, and knowing what I know about a writer's sensibility, Federico was either so ignorant of the use that I question his role as an editor, or he knew that having used it "at least a hundred times" (his claim), he could slip in a wink to insult unnoticed.

Or both men could simply have used pejorative language without thinking.

You know what's most interesting in all this? ESPN defenders seem generally to have a professional or passionate attachment to sports. Those that aren't part of the business or coverage of it have responded differently.

I purposely finished and posted this article before reading anymore about it; I have lots of acquaintances online and offline that eat and breath sports and would disagree with me. That's okay too, though I think I've been fair to both sides here given what we know. (When it comes to these things, we often know very little and have to trust our ears.)

As I was writing this, the cable news outlets were covering Rick Santorum's remarks on Obama's "phony theology." I come from conservative roots, religious and political, and I understand the sentiment well. Many religious conservatives believe that liberal theology is at the very least misguided, and usually counterfeit, which in the conservative religious realm means satanic. I know, I know, sounds silly, but spend some time with those folks. They are among the most generous and loving you'll ever meet, and also the most intractable.

Did you notice how my footnotes are sometimes the most interesting parts of my posts? Like cracklin's at a pork pickin'.

Started: 2012-02-19

So you think US jobs are more important than Chinese jobs?

I was going to repost a challenge that I blogged earlier, but I can't find it right now, so will rephrase it as best I can:

I would like someone who believes that US jobs are more important than Chinese jobs to explain why.

I hear everyone saying it; there must be something to it.

Simple enough. Right?

You may use any supporting evidence you like.[1] Here, let me help you get started, but feel free to add your own:

• They talk funny.
• They look different.
• They're Communists. Everyone knows Capitalism reinforces hard work, character, and prosperity.
• Anyone with an alphabet with umpteen-thousand characters just doesn't know how to economize.
• They don't love their children as much as we love ours.
• They're atheists.
• Their food smells funny.
• There's like a billion of them. Our slice of the world's jobs is already small.
• Some people are more important than other people, and we get to decide who.
• It's the way of the world. Survival of the fittest.
• A lot of people agree with me.
• People who disagree with me must be Communists; even if they don't think they are, they are; maybe subconsciously or something, because you can't be that wrong and not know it.
• God's on our side. Everyone in my church thinks so.

 

There, did I get it all? I'm sure I at least hit a few high points. Michigan candidate for senator Pete Hoekstra, are you listening? Since US employment is such central component to your campaign, maybe you have an opinion.

[1]
You have to explain why, though; can't be a self-evident statement like "Because America comes first." That only says “I’m right and I don’t need a reason,” which, IMHO, is where Mr Hoekstra stands.

Started: 2012-02-18

Pete Hoekstra Knows That Racism Is Just a Ratio of Outrage to Silence

There are at least two reasons (or combinations of the two) why Michigan senatorial candidate Pete Hoekstra is staying mum on his racist ad [1].

1. “No comment” is safe, and controversies without a lot of anger from a lot of people will die more quickly if you just don’t say anything about them.

2. A lot of people agree with you.

As I’ve been thinking about this and getting angrier at Hoekstra myself, I've been thinking there may be more people in #2 than I thought. And if there are, where are they? Why haven’t we heard from them?

Because the racist majority is a silent majority. My guess – I’m speculating  – is that Hoekstra’s gotten lots of feedback that he’s right on the money and voters are behind him, just let it go and move on.

It’s safe to be racist against Chinese when it’s couched in language like “they’re taking our jobs.” Lou Dobbs did it until MSNBC finally dumped him. Conservatives sometimes single out the “mainland Chinese” or “Communist Chinese,” as if we are allowing for some nice Chinese that “aren’t like those bad people over there.”

The Washington Post gave Hoekstra it’s “Worst Week in Washington” award.➚Here’s hoping it grows into the “Worst Year in Washington.”

[1]
News stories have sometimes used the word “racist” regarding this ad and put the word in quotes, as if there’s some question about it. That’s why I’ve been using the word xenophobic, but in fact, I think Hoekstra’s ad is racist. If the ad showed a black man eating watermelon and talking like Amos and Andy, would that be offensive? Of course. Now put yourself in the shoes of an American Asian. Hoekstra has an Asian girl on a bicycle in a rice paddy speaking broken English and thanking you for giving her your job. You’re supposed to be afraid and angry. That’s how racism works.

Is Hoekstra a bad man? Probably not. Is he racist? Probably yes, and probably doesn’t even know it, or if he does now, doesn’t care enough to acknowledge a fundamental problem in himself and within his constituency, and that failure runs deeper than racism itself.

Actress Lisa Chan Apologizes for Xenophobic Hoekstra Ad

I’m glad to see  actress Lisa Chan apologize for appearing in the political ad for Michigan candidate Pete Hoekstra.

Story on Angry Asian Man➚
Story on New York Daily News➚

She’s an actress, she needed work, and this controversy (and her apology) could go either way advancing her career, so good for her for rising above it and doing the right thing, and shame on Pete Hoekstra for defending the ad.

Of course, he can’t apologize, can he? That would be admitting a mistake and would be worse than campaigning with a little humble pie on your chin.

I blogged about this already here.

The Pete Hoekstra ad:

"Nostalgia is a Dangerous Drug" ?

Those are the words of Roy H Williams, the Wizard of Ads®, in his latest Monday Morning Memo.

See the Memo (click the image on the right):
Hear the Memo»
Visit The Monday Morning Memo»

 

Williams starts with a few observations on nostalgia but focuses largely on hero worship. This is the first Monday Morning Memo I've come away from a bit dispirited. Not because of Williams's comments on hero worship (which are spot on, IMHO), but because of his treatment of the imagination:

"You do realize that Lake Wobegone and Mayberry and Little House aren't real places, right?"

A writer knows this tone, and Williams is talking to a particular audience; he reinforces it in the next sentence, "let's not pretend." He may be talking partly to himself, as many writers do, but this is an email with a wide audience, so I presume he's talking to a lot of people who just may forget Mayberry isn't real (or believe that it is).

Like me.

Now, I like Williams's Memos. I read them weekly and enjoy them. But this week he did more than discard harmless conceits like Mayberry; he sterilized them.

There is a place old memories go to die, and that is where Williams sent Mayberry.

Why isn't Mayberry real? How real is Erie, PA, my boyhood town, and my experiences growing up there? The nighttime thrumming and whistling of distant trains? The bay and barges and tugs and fishermen? Christmas lights through frosted windows and wild grapes in the neighbor's yard?

Nothing physical of those things remains today except the patterns of synaptic connections that define them. Those are the same patterns that hold Mayberry (and kisses and smiles and twinkles and sinking stomachs and weak legs - a few images suitable for Valentine's Day).

Please don't misunderstand, I know that the Mayberry I know is not Erie, PA, but it was in some respects Mount Airy, Andy Griffith's boyhood town[1], and there is no reason why my memories of a very real Erie should have any more substance than Andy Griffith's memories of a very real Mount Airy (or the team of directors, writers and actors that interpreted them).

All human expressions are reflections of the experiences of those that express them. Some are difficult to penetrate, but others are not. The expressions we most enjoy or that transform us are intimately accessible. In that regard, Guernica and Mayberry are a lot alike.

I can't go back to the towering maple tree in my backyard from which I surveyed an entire neighborhood. That tree is no longer physically present, but in some way it's still there, as real as Aunt Bee's apron.

As an aside, dangerous or not, nostalgia is as much a part of our DNA as our need for fats and sugars. And I choose that example deliberately, because even though we are programmed to consume those things in massive quantities when available (and copulate and kill and many other things), we can't excise bits and pieces of our nature we don't care for.

They all combine in myriad and ultimately indefinable ways to make us what we are.

[1]
Some aspects of The Andy Griffith Show were based on Griffith's childhood growing up there.

Started: 2012-02-13

Streaming Science News 24/7

I found an excellent source for science news. I’ve been looking for 24/7 science audio programming that I didn’t have to program myself (ie, organize or select my own podcasts). I wanted someone else with more experience than me to sort through the chaff.

If you're a science junkie and love insights into all types, from virology to astrophysics, this stream is for you. And of course, you can dig deeper and tune into subjects that interest you more.

Visit Science360 here»


Embed the widget on your site.... (Learn how here»)

It looks like this:

Started: 2012-01-31

What Might Have Been Lives in Dark and Earthy Places

When I was old enough to enjoy movies on TV but too young to go to the theater on my own, a movie came out called The Black Bird.» The star of the film, George Segal, showed up on talk shows of the time (Merv Griffin, Mike Douglas, etc), and everyone made a big fuss.

I felt like I was missing out on something wonderful. I was so young, I was not yet aware what a classic was, or a homage, or a parody, or the personalities associated with them. TV was my only window into the movies, and in those days it was a quite a narrow window.

 

Around that time, a local Erie, PA TV station decided to play The Maltese Falcon on the late late late show, and my little brain thought ah ha! I can watch this wonderful new movie that's in the theater. I stayed up late, turned off the lights, turned on a little portable TV in my bedroom, and kept the volume so low I could hardly hear it myself, for fear my parents would tell me to to turn it off.[1]

To my surprise, this movie wasn’t funny. And worse, I didn’t recognize any of the actors in it. None of those people had been on Merv Griffin. Something was wrong.[2] I turned it off and went to sleep.

Of course, sometime after that, having discovered a love for movies, I’ve watched and enjoyed The Maltese Falcon. In fact, in honor of the upcoming Oscars and TCM's tributes, I'm introducing it to my son this weekend.

Now, how this all got started: I had the chance to watch The Black Bird recently. I  recorded a late night showing over digital antenna TV. Wouldn't you know, it was nearly unwatchable. In fact, I gave it about a half hour and deleted it. After all these years, I hadn’t missed a thing.

But I did learn something: I learned that memories of what might have been are often more satisfying than memories of what would have been. Not that you have the chance to do an A/B test, mind you, but the idea is poetically balanced and fulfilling.

Still, what might have been sustains us, in a dark and earthy place that remains rich and fecund as the day the dreams took root.

[1]
We had the four major networks in town - WSEE Channel 3 (CBS), WICU Channel 12 (NBC), WJET Channel 24 (ABC), and WQLN Channel 54 (PBS). My guess is that it would have been on WJET, which had more late night programming.

A TV in a kid's bedroom was unheard of for middle-class Americans in those days, and this was a special treat for me and my brother Tom; we were storing some things for a relative, including a sofa and TV, which transformed our attic bedroom into a den, the coolest thing ever for a couple tweens.

[2]
I also once tried to call James Arness on the basement extension in my boyhood home by looking him up in the Erie, PA telephone book. Best friend Rich Nickel had to tell me they have different phone books for different cities, and Mr Arness wasn’t in ours. I had a lot of courage for a little kid, though, I was gonna do it, I was gonna call Matt Dillon right then and there.

Started: 2012-02-03

Live Long and Let Live

While searching for generic nerdy pictures for a recent post, I ran across a lot of pictures of folks dressed up as Star Trek characters.

Why should Google equate “Star Trek” with “nerd”? I asked myself.

Star Trek is not inherently nerdy, but has attracted types that are associated with nerdiness.

I think the answer is (partly) that most people that feel at home in the Star Trek universe tend to want to talk about, learn about, and educate others about Trek themes and concepts, while the rest of the world would rather leave them on the theater floor with the popcorn and pop and Good & Plenties.

A Trekker can go on for hours about the technology behind phasers and tricorders and transporters. “Future science” is rich with accessible personalities who speculate about parallel universes, entangled electrons, dark matter, and other fascinating things that arise from String Theory and Quantum Mechanics. (Brian Greene➚ and Michio Kaku➚ are two of my favorites.)

I am part Trekker, but I also embraced the counter culture that competed with the Star Trek world at the time. I identified with Adam as much as I did Scotty (who just shook his head, like my parents did).

It’s okay to be ambivalent about those times. Everyone was. Everyone is. We sometimes just don’t realize we are seeking the same things. We let hair or music or language get in they way, instead of celebrating a new path the next generation is forging.

Peace.

Started: 2012-02-01