I'd of thought maybe the disappointments of your own life might of made you more sympathetic to other people.
You would have thought wrongly.
I guess so.
It is not my experience that life's difficulties make people more charitable.
I guess it depends on the people.
Monday, September 24, 2007
10 things I learned in the desert
1) It rains a helluva lot more than you might think. It rains hard for a real short time. One morning it hailed.
2) Snakes and scorpions aren't as prevalent as you might think. I didn't see one of either species, and it wasn't for lack of trying. I scoured the place and didn't see even a squirt scorpion or snake.
3) Dry heat is better than humid heat. They're right, it's not the heat, it is the humidity.
4) You learn quick to get used to the smell of your own stink.
5) Space is deceiving. So is size. Something, like a butte, looks close, then when you start walking towards it you learn it's just real big and far away. Outer space must be like this.
6) Nature doesn't give a damn if we live or die as a species. Today's ocean bed will someday be a desert, and we'll either still be around or we'll be fossils.
7) All that space can suck up a lot--sound, thought, bad memories.
8) Rice and tuna ain't bad, even after the fourth or fifth day.
9) A cheeseburger with tortilla chips and a cold beer makes for a pretty good gourmet meal.
10) I've got no business in the east anymore.
2) Snakes and scorpions aren't as prevalent as you might think. I didn't see one of either species, and it wasn't for lack of trying. I scoured the place and didn't see even a squirt scorpion or snake.
3) Dry heat is better than humid heat. They're right, it's not the heat, it is the humidity.
4) You learn quick to get used to the smell of your own stink.
5) Space is deceiving. So is size. Something, like a butte, looks close, then when you start walking towards it you learn it's just real big and far away. Outer space must be like this.
6) Nature doesn't give a damn if we live or die as a species. Today's ocean bed will someday be a desert, and we'll either still be around or we'll be fossils.
7) All that space can suck up a lot--sound, thought, bad memories.
8) Rice and tuna ain't bad, even after the fourth or fifth day.
9) A cheeseburger with tortilla chips and a cold beer makes for a pretty good gourmet meal.
10) I've got no business in the east anymore.
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
It's another school year
That means dealing with high school teachers and administrators again. A long time ago, once I, well, I don't want to say once I grew up but when I got to be a certain age when others of a certain age started calling me, sir, when I got to be that age I noticed that people who work in our schools are kind of bullies. They are so used to this uncontested power they have, that they just assume they can hold sway over everyone. Even other adults. It's kind of cute, really. They're so vulnerable but they have no idea because all their lives they've lived with certainty that they are in control, but they don't live in the same world the rest of us do. They're still back in high school.
There's this guy at Kathryn's high school who rides around in a golf cart patrolling the parking lot. That in itself is so silly; if he really knew what he looked like he wouldn't go within a hundred yards of the thing. But I guess he doesn't know or care, because he rides around in the thing full throttle. He's this young guy with Dockers and a necktie. Good grief. The traffic is backed up, but God almighty, you got to do what he says or else Mr. Whatever The Hell His Name Is, Mr. Traffic Cone Man will write you up.
I told my first kid all she had to do was get through the school system and she'd be fine. Just get through it. And that's what I tell my second one, too.
There's this guy at Kathryn's high school who rides around in a golf cart patrolling the parking lot. That in itself is so silly; if he really knew what he looked like he wouldn't go within a hundred yards of the thing. But I guess he doesn't know or care, because he rides around in the thing full throttle. He's this young guy with Dockers and a necktie. Good grief. The traffic is backed up, but God almighty, you got to do what he says or else Mr. Whatever The Hell His Name Is, Mr. Traffic Cone Man will write you up.
I told my first kid all she had to do was get through the school system and she'd be fine. Just get through it. And that's what I tell my second one, too.
I'm just damn tired
Getting up, pulling my stuff together, making lunches, dealing with traffic to get Kathryn to school on time, chasing a train that already is running a half hour late...there's so much I feel I should be blogging about but all I can focus on is the gear that's piled up in my living room, that pile of gear that represents so much freedom. Of course there's still so much to do to pull this trip together since I was in Costa Rica last week. And truth be told, Sue and I would have left everything for the last minute anyway; we're not the most fastidious people in the world. So tonight it's jamming stuff sacks with clothes and sleeping bags and tents. Making GORP. Sorting gear, divvying it up...you take the stove, I've got the water filter. Who's got the tickets?
Of course, traveling always makes me a bit blue. What doesn't, huh? It's the act of leaving that does it. Leaving my kids behind. Shit, leaving my dog behind. Wanting to be there in case they need. Leaving things that need my attention, from bills to articles and columns to write. Wanting to pick up that geetar and never put it down again. Leaving behind a couple of friends who I've been too busy to give some time to. But I'm too tired, and have been too tired for a good long time. Somebody should have put me on a plane and shoved me out over the desert a long time ago.
Of course, traveling always makes me a bit blue. What doesn't, huh? It's the act of leaving that does it. Leaving my kids behind. Shit, leaving my dog behind. Wanting to be there in case they need. Leaving things that need my attention, from bills to articles and columns to write. Wanting to pick up that geetar and never put it down again. Leaving behind a couple of friends who I've been too busy to give some time to. But I'm too tired, and have been too tired for a good long time. Somebody should have put me on a plane and shoved me out over the desert a long time ago.
9.11
Well, I guess I should comment on 9.11, huh? It is, after all, a turning point in our country's history, sort of. Well, it could have been. It could have been the point where the U.S joined the rest of the world again. But, we rose up, then fell back on our old ways.
9.11 was shocking, but it wasn't surprising, at least not to those of us who take a more global view of the world than your average American. It was inconceivable, unimaginable that a terrorist group could and would hijack all those planes and fly them into the Twin Towers, and let's not forget the Pentagon and the crash land one in a field in Pennsylvania.
Why is 9.11 only associated with New York City?
But, back to my point: it was shocking, but not surprising because I wondered what took al Qaeda so long. Terrorist attacks had been going on around the world for years. And they continue today. The United States was insulated for years. And we haven't had an attack in six years while the rest of the world spins out of control.
9.11 was shocking, but it wasn't surprising, at least not to those of us who take a more global view of the world than your average American. It was inconceivable, unimaginable that a terrorist group could and would hijack all those planes and fly them into the Twin Towers, and let's not forget the Pentagon and the crash land one in a field in Pennsylvania.
Why is 9.11 only associated with New York City?
But, back to my point: it was shocking, but not surprising because I wondered what took al Qaeda so long. Terrorist attacks had been going on around the world for years. And they continue today. The United States was insulated for years. And we haven't had an attack in six years while the rest of the world spins out of control.
Monday, September 10, 2007
CAFTA...and free trade
At the beginning of October, Costa Rica will be voting on CAFTA, the Central American Free Trade Agreement. I’m not sure what “free trade” is. I’d be willing to bet the name’s a bit misleading. On the surface it’s a treaty between Costa Rica and the United States to do business without tariffs. But there’s a lot more to it than that. If it were that simple it wouldn’t have the intense debate that seems to be swirling around it.
I just heard about it last week, so I’m not going to pretend I know anything about it.
But, a few things: When the United States embarked on free world trade, we didn’t vote on it. Congress, or the president—someone or somebody; see I don’t even know who—just said this is the way it’s going to be. Costa Ricans get to vote on it. Score one for the Costa Ricans.
Another thing: Last week I was in Costa Rica working with a company that builds Web sites for the agency I work for. There are about 150 people working at the company, 150 jobs that aren’t in the United States. I’m not grousing about the loss of job. I only point that out because at a company like that, one that clearly stands to benefit from CAFTA, or TLC as it is known by its Spanish lettering in Costa Rica, there are opponents to the agreement. Doesn’t make sense, does it? You’d think these people would see the clear benefit of such an agreement. More jobs offloaded to Costa Rica from the U.S.
But maybe they know something others don’t know.
Way back when, when the so-called paradigm shifted in corporate America, corporations said they could no longer guarantee a lifetime job, but what they could provide was training and growth, and when it was time to move on, workers could take that training and growth to their new companies. This could keep corporations competitive, lowering costs and overhead. Workers thought this was a deal, the old what’s good for GM is good for America. (Imagine they swallowed that old chestnut!) The big thing was, American workers had all of their money tied up in stocks and 401(k)s. So, basically, American workers opened up a vein to keep the Dow Jones pumped up and so they could have money when they retired. What they missed was there was a whole lot of living to do before they retired. There were cars to buy and fix and mortgages to pay and college tuition bills to absorb. But those jobs corporate America promised weren’t there. They were in India and obviously places like Costa Rica. So they couldn't afford cars and houses and education. We know, said all the big, fat, white men is suits, let's come up with free trade, since no one can afford our stuff here in the U.S., let's come up with a way to sell it in other countries. (See, the middle-class, which traditionally bought all the stuff America produced was shrinking, so corporate America had to build another middle-class somewhere else.)
Production (jobs) went off-shore and we started down that road to being information-driven. The U.S was going to strategize. Ideas were the only thing we’d manufacture. Information would be the only product the U.S. ultimately produced, while the rest of the world actually made the hard product itself. The advice here was change…change jobs, the way you think, the way you work. Hell, change your underwear, as long as you changed something. But it doesn’t always work out, because there are too many chiefs and not enough Indians. Exactly how many MBAs do you need to write a marketing plan?
The only reason I bring this up is because any time rich businesspeople float an idea past you, you can be certain the first people who are going to benefit from the idea is them.
I just heard about it last week, so I’m not going to pretend I know anything about it.
But, a few things: When the United States embarked on free world trade, we didn’t vote on it. Congress, or the president—someone or somebody; see I don’t even know who—just said this is the way it’s going to be. Costa Ricans get to vote on it. Score one for the Costa Ricans.
Another thing: Last week I was in Costa Rica working with a company that builds Web sites for the agency I work for. There are about 150 people working at the company, 150 jobs that aren’t in the United States. I’m not grousing about the loss of job. I only point that out because at a company like that, one that clearly stands to benefit from CAFTA, or TLC as it is known by its Spanish lettering in Costa Rica, there are opponents to the agreement. Doesn’t make sense, does it? You’d think these people would see the clear benefit of such an agreement. More jobs offloaded to Costa Rica from the U.S.
But maybe they know something others don’t know.
Way back when, when the so-called paradigm shifted in corporate America, corporations said they could no longer guarantee a lifetime job, but what they could provide was training and growth, and when it was time to move on, workers could take that training and growth to their new companies. This could keep corporations competitive, lowering costs and overhead. Workers thought this was a deal, the old what’s good for GM is good for America. (Imagine they swallowed that old chestnut!) The big thing was, American workers had all of their money tied up in stocks and 401(k)s. So, basically, American workers opened up a vein to keep the Dow Jones pumped up and so they could have money when they retired. What they missed was there was a whole lot of living to do before they retired. There were cars to buy and fix and mortgages to pay and college tuition bills to absorb. But those jobs corporate America promised weren’t there. They were in India and obviously places like Costa Rica. So they couldn't afford cars and houses and education. We know, said all the big, fat, white men is suits, let's come up with free trade, since no one can afford our stuff here in the U.S., let's come up with a way to sell it in other countries. (See, the middle-class, which traditionally bought all the stuff America produced was shrinking, so corporate America had to build another middle-class somewhere else.)
Production (jobs) went off-shore and we started down that road to being information-driven. The U.S was going to strategize. Ideas were the only thing we’d manufacture. Information would be the only product the U.S. ultimately produced, while the rest of the world actually made the hard product itself. The advice here was change…change jobs, the way you think, the way you work. Hell, change your underwear, as long as you changed something. But it doesn’t always work out, because there are too many chiefs and not enough Indians. Exactly how many MBAs do you need to write a marketing plan?
The only reason I bring this up is because any time rich businesspeople float an idea past you, you can be certain the first people who are going to benefit from the idea is them.
Lose your job, buy some shoes
Last week I was in my hotel room in Costa Rica watching CNN Headlines News. The report that the U.S. lost 4,000 jobs instead of gaining an anticipated 110,000 came on. The announcer looked serious. Then they cut to a travel story about the best places to shop, all high end merchandise like expensive stuff like shoes and dresses. The hostess was all cheery and happy. People are losing their jobs and the television is still shilling, shit, the news programs are selling now.
The question I have is, who's gonna buy all this stuff if they don't have a job.
More and more, especially in the U.S., I know people who are just living paycheck to paycheck. Maybe they have jobs, but they don't have the extra money for a goddamn $200 pair of shoes that is nothing but a couple of straps and a scrap of leather on the bottom.
The question I have is, who's gonna buy all this stuff if they don't have a job.
More and more, especially in the U.S., I know people who are just living paycheck to paycheck. Maybe they have jobs, but they don't have the extra money for a goddamn $200 pair of shoes that is nothing but a couple of straps and a scrap of leather on the bottom.
Friday, September 7, 2007
A deal with the devil
If the devil said to me, I'll make you an awesome guitar player, but you can never act again, I'd say, deal.
Hard life lesson
"I was raped. That kind of burned me out on the whole romantic expatriate notion."
--Michelle Shocked
--Michelle Shocked
The blues
"No one's ever been able to define blues. To me, blues is three chords and something to say. There's a real temptation to think that blues is singing about misery and sorrow. It's singing about your experiences, and what I find in blues is the message of hope and inspiration, because you may be singing about your misery, but the fact that you're singing, that's the real message."
--Michelle Shocked
--Michelle Shocked
The difference between rich and poor
"You ain't crazy, you're just poor."
When you're rich, you're eccentric.
When you're rich, you're eccentric.
A new blogger
A buddy started a new blog, he's a little tentative but his first post shows there's a lot going on in his head, which I knew all along.
Yes, this Internet thang is all about selling crap and surfing porn, but it's also for sharing--ideas, interests, feelings, experiences, hopes, joys, despairs, everything human, which is so ironic because the Internet and computers and all this digital hoopla is about as human as a toilet seat.
Yes, this Internet thang is all about selling crap and surfing porn, but it's also for sharing--ideas, interests, feelings, experiences, hopes, joys, despairs, everything human, which is so ironic because the Internet and computers and all this digital hoopla is about as human as a toilet seat.
Thursday, September 6, 2007
Making a splash in Costa Rica
I'm not sure how it happens because I tend to think of myself as more the quiet type, but I do make a splash now and again...good first impressions, or rather memorable first impressions.
Just this past weekend I drove down a sidewalk at Allison's new college. Well, it was going in the direction I needed to go and it was a big sidewalk although I thought it was more a small road.
And tonight, I get to my room kind of late, call Sue and we chat for awhile and when I hang up I call room service for a burger. Then I opened my second beer and start wailing on the guitar. I'm right in my rendition of It's a Heartache (you gotta hear it; it really cranks) when the phone rings. WTF, I think, I don't know anyone in Costa Rica, at least anyone who would call me at my hotel at this hour. It's the front desk. The guy from room service had been standing outside my room and I couldn't hear him knocking because I was playing and singing so loud. A little embarrassing.
But there's more...
I'm putting my tray outside my door after I've finished said burger and beer, when the door swings shut. Click. I'm locked outside my room.
Barefoot, wearing jeans with my shirttail out, I slap my way down the stairs on the tiled floor, thankful I wasn't in the shower and wearing just a towel, across the lobby with all of these people dressed up. The guy behind the front desk didn't even crack a smile. C'mon mae, get a sense of humor.
Just this past weekend I drove down a sidewalk at Allison's new college. Well, it was going in the direction I needed to go and it was a big sidewalk although I thought it was more a small road.
And tonight, I get to my room kind of late, call Sue and we chat for awhile and when I hang up I call room service for a burger. Then I opened my second beer and start wailing on the guitar. I'm right in my rendition of It's a Heartache (you gotta hear it; it really cranks) when the phone rings. WTF, I think, I don't know anyone in Costa Rica, at least anyone who would call me at my hotel at this hour. It's the front desk. The guy from room service had been standing outside my room and I couldn't hear him knocking because I was playing and singing so loud. A little embarrassing.
But there's more...
I'm putting my tray outside my door after I've finished said burger and beer, when the door swings shut. Click. I'm locked outside my room.
Barefoot, wearing jeans with my shirttail out, I slap my way down the stairs on the tiled floor, thankful I wasn't in the shower and wearing just a towel, across the lobby with all of these people dressed up. The guy behind the front desk didn't even crack a smile. C'mon mae, get a sense of humor.
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
Gatos y perros
My God, I forgot how it can rain in the tropics. And the locals take no more notice to it than they do the sunshine. We were sitting outside under an awning eating lunch, needing to raise our voices from the pounding of the rain on the awning, and lightning cracked and thunder boomed just off, and no one took notice. I couldn't help but looking to the side in amazement at all that water coming out of the sky, so suddenly.
The glamour of business travel
Long day yesterday, 11 hours, and here’s where people don’t understand about business travel. The grind. The long hours. Rarely do you get downtime to relax. Except for yesterday at lunch when Juan and Carolina took me to this local outdoor restaurant I’ve seen the inside of a warehouse and a Marriott. And the local neighborhood. I hired a taxi driver to take me to work everyday. Today he took a "better" route. We wound through neighborhoods which I love to see...even the squalor...that's what's real.
Which brings me to the Marriott. I sat at the same table at breakfast as I did yesterday, and started to itch. The mountains are off there. The lushness that surrounds the hotel is manufactured; a quick taxi ride outside the gates will tell you that, and I start to feel that uneasiness I’ve always feel in places like that, the feeling of being trapped by all of the politeness and luxury. Today the coffee wasn’t that good; it was watered down. The service was very poor. And what am I suppose to do? Complain like a spoiled American? I’d rather go get my own coffee. Or make it myself. Serve myself. I don’t need or want servants. I don’t like being coddled or served or cow-towed to. I don't like it when things are kept from me. Let's build a wall of lush greenery and gates and walls so we can't see the outside world. What's real out there..
Everything at the Marriott is manufactured to please someone’s warped idea of sensibility. The hotel is designed and decorated like a Spanish hacienda. Except the problem is, it isn’t a hacienda. It’s like Disney World all over again. Like a theme park or a carnival ride. All fake and contrived. And it wears on a person. It wears on me, that’s for sure.
Which brings me to the Marriott. I sat at the same table at breakfast as I did yesterday, and started to itch. The mountains are off there. The lushness that surrounds the hotel is manufactured; a quick taxi ride outside the gates will tell you that, and I start to feel that uneasiness I’ve always feel in places like that, the feeling of being trapped by all of the politeness and luxury. Today the coffee wasn’t that good; it was watered down. The service was very poor. And what am I suppose to do? Complain like a spoiled American? I’d rather go get my own coffee. Or make it myself. Serve myself. I don’t need or want servants. I don’t like being coddled or served or cow-towed to. I don't like it when things are kept from me. Let's build a wall of lush greenery and gates and walls so we can't see the outside world. What's real out there..
Everything at the Marriott is manufactured to please someone’s warped idea of sensibility. The hotel is designed and decorated like a Spanish hacienda. Except the problem is, it isn’t a hacienda. It’s like Disney World all over again. Like a theme park or a carnival ride. All fake and contrived. And it wears on a person. It wears on me, that’s for sure.
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
Blast off
Takeoff. Blast off. Thirty-four years ago was the first time I felt a plane leave the ground, my impression was that of a carnival ride the second the jet broke free from the ground, that soft, cushy feeling of the air holding me up. So this is what it feels to fly, I remember thinking. I was a teenager who turned his back on everything, put everything down on one roll of the dice, and won. For so many years I wondered where that boy went. What ever happened to that person I was? That person who wasn’t afraid to take risks and was so excited about the size of the earth. That person I could be. Today in Boston I felt that carnival ride once again. Leaving the earth, breaking the bond that holds us to the earth and letting loose onto the world, free again.
Still at ease
"There were not enough chairs for them all to sit on, so that many of them sat on their goatskins spread on the floor. It did not make much difference whether one sat on a chair or on the floor because even those who sat on chairs spread their goatskins on them first."
--Chinua Achebe, No Longer at Ease
--Chinua Achebe, No Longer at Ease
Tragedy
“Yes, real tragedy is never resolved. It goes on hopelessly forever. Conventional tragedy is too easy. The hero dies and we feel a purging of the emotions. A real tragedy takes place in a corner, in an untidy spot, to quote W.H. Auden. The rest of the world is unaware of it. Like the man in A Handful of Dust who reads Dickens to Mr. Todd. There is no release for him. When the story ends he is still reading. There is no purging of the emotion for us because we are not there.”
--Chinua Achebe, No Longer at Ease
--Chinua Achebe, No Longer at Ease
Sharing the gift of music
Got to the gate hours early here in Atlanta because of the layover, and found a quiet place in a corner, sat on the floor with a cup of coffee and played guitar. A guy came over close, sat down and leaned back and closed his eyes and listened to me play. When he got up and nodded to me, and I nodded back. So this is what if feels like to share the gift of music, huh?
Leaving AngryTown
Left AngryTown yesterday a.m. Sue took me to the airport. One last and lasting memory of Boston is the angry toll collector on the Mass Pike who got mad at me while I dug for change. He lectured me on having the correct change when I pulled up to the booth. Sue flipped him off as we pulled away. As I heard a comedian say once about these guys, their job is to make change, how hard is that? Maybe it’s just from living in Boston so long, knowing how hard life can be, but I have to wonder how his day was going. Maybe he just learned a loved one has cancer (something I’ve experienced), maybe the bills are piling up and the kids are driving him crazy and he’s watching his life leave him as he sits in a toll booth on the Mass Pike. But, do I have to take the brunt of it? When does he take responsibility and quit dumping it on strangers? You get his sort a lot in Boston, and Sue and I talked about just how tired we are of Boston, of the angry people, of people who just don’t share our view of the world and the way it should be.
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