Suddenly Snow
Last weekend’s snow was…a surprise, among other things. 24 hours before I snapped the photos below, all you could see was brown grass and black pavement. Since these were taken, we’ve received another 6″ or so…and the city’s running out of places to pile the stuff!
The Fog of War
That well-known phrase referring to the confusion and uncertainty common during a battle seems like it is not unique to the battlefield. I grew up in a military family, and have memories of the occasional soldier or sailor going off the deep-end, usually injuring property and themselves more than anything or anyone else, but sometimes an unlucky few who happened to be close by never had the chance to regret it. But nothing like the mind boggling events that unfolded this last week at Ft. Hood.
There is no question that military service at the front is a dangerous business, and things happen that aren’t always explainable. I find it ironically that the Ft. Hood tragedy happened in the same town that decades ago had the horrible massacre at Luby’s, in a time before Texans freely carried handguns. I remember vividly the argument that had people been packing, someone might have stopped or reduced the carnage during that tragedy in a Texas cafeteria. Now we have this recent horrific event that defies us to make sense of the why, the how. Of all the places you’d think someone on a rampage would have little success, it would be on a military installation. Yet, amidst all that training and weaponry, no one was armed initially. One wonders if firearms as de rigueur will be the norm on bases in the future. I’m not pro-gun by any means, just sense the irony at work.
Bob Greene’s CNN column lays out the challenges brought on by the Fog of War, the likely progression of the days following, and the intense interest in learning who the slain were, their comrades, and a renewed appreciate of what these young men and women go through. But why, oh why, does it take the senseless loss of life to awaken the American psyche like this? Why are we systemically deaf to what we’re doing to our young (and not so young) citizens? How many Americans really understand the damage that’s going on by repeatedly sending our patriots back to the insanity with little regard (or a sense of intentional ignorance) to the mental damage?
Wars are sadly a fixture of our history, yet modern warfare seems to be pushing our mental capacities to cope far beyond what’s humanly possible to handle. Or is it just that such sensationalized media reporting make it seem unusually so? I believe many a Vietnam vet would argue that the mental damage from that senseless engagement is no different than the post-trauma stress syndrome that’s getting more and more publicity.
In conversations with my father about his wartime and military experiences before he passed on, he believed back then his generation served with a purpose, that everyone believed in the cause behind the war. Fast forward to 2009 and it seems not many of us consider the why of what we’re doing over in the Middle East as reason alone to go blindly into the Fog of War.
Enjoy the Last of the Color
My favorite time of the year is drawing to a close. Winter is about to replace fall’s multi-colored coat with a drab, grey blanket. This year was especially colorful in Northwest Ohio, yielding vibrant reds and yellows in every direction, and seemingly timed to turn at the same time. A good year for fall colors, which old timers are telling me means a snowy winter. Oh boy oh boy. Winter wonderlands are a close second in my book to autumn colors. Don’t mind the cold if there’s a white blanket everywhere.
The NaNoWriMo Cometh
October is all about pumpkins and pretty colors. Come November, our thoughts turn to…30 crazed-filled days scribbling nonsensical sentences in a quest for 50,000 words, a modicum of sanity at the end, and that elusive brag: “I wrote a novel.” Oh, and something involving a bird and cranberry sauce happens that month, but never mind that, focus on the writing!
This year will be my fourth voyage into the world of daily word counts, banning contractions, and breaking all the rules for crisp, succinct writing. For those unbapitized, NaNoWriMo is short-speak for National Novel Writing Month, and annual event held since 1999. My first dipping came in 2004, where I’m proud to report I cleared the bar with 51,700 words that will never-see-the-light-of-a-publishers-pressroom, but hey, a goal met is a goal celebrated. If you’re feeling voyeuristic and want a glimpse of the madness such an endeavor breeds, read my celebration post. And if that didn’t bring you to your senses and you still want to have a go, I wrote about my takeaways a week later after my fried brain cells were replenished.
I tried again in 2005, thinking I’d start with something more structured than the 18-word sentence I launched with the previous year (yes, one can create an entire plot in those few words…at least, if your target audience is the NaNo). Spending a week prepping a five-page outline, multiple character sketches, the usual stuff, I thought I’d really take NaNo seriously…and promptly bailed out after about 10 days. Too much structure for NaNo? Perhaps.
2006 brought a third attempt, this time a plot paragraph (yes, as in MULTIPLE sentences) of a book idea, but the fates intervened via the passing of my father that November. Few things can deter a determined writer during NaNo, but that excuse certainly qualifies.
So now, a couple years removed from my three-year NaNo servitude, I’m ready again. Armed with a NEW idea, one not too deeply prepared, but one with serious intent, I’ll charge up the MacBook batteries, load up the iPod with tons of Hearts of Space recordings, and head off to the dozen or so coffee shops I’ve targeted to get me through the month. Nothing brings a smile to writer’s lips, hope in their heart, and that unbridled passion that writing with a purpose brings. Won’t you join in? It’s free, fun, and safe (don’t worry about the months of therapy that’s bound to follow…think of that as research for future NaNos).
It’s All About the “O”
Obama… Osama… Oprah… Overstock.com… Obsession… there’s lots of famous “Os” in the world to muse over.
But, of course, I’m talkin’ about ORGANICS! (And where was your mind, dear reader?)
In a world of plastic and pharmaceuticals, preservatives and pesticides, I am progressively going organic. Fortunately, organics are fashionable, therefore local markets carry a lot more than they used to stock. I’m old enough to have gone to college when and where the mighty Whole Foods Market had their meager beginnings. Back then it was mostly hirsute hippies and willing wannabes hanging out in the original Whole Foods Market, a modest bare-concrete-floor, rough-made-wooden-shelvies, foreshadow of what was to come. Organic wasn’t a buzzword back then, but the practice of nurturing whole Earth and eating clean was well underway.
Without going into the politics of organics and the open-ended argument that big-farm organic isn’t as healthy as localvore organics, I’m just happy there is more variety and reasonable prices than ever before. With terrific tools like this iPhone app and the uber cool companion wallet card), I can channel my inner hippie and decide when it’s all about the O and when it’s not.
random past musing: Too Many Books? Nah….
Is there such a thing as too many books? To a bibliophile, the answer is plainly no…so many books, so little time and all that. To someone trying to live more simply and keep only those books that seem practical (is there such a category?), the answer is not so obvious.
I go through periods where I have my book addiction seems under control, then things like today happen. Massive book sale, “80% off suggested list,” several titles i’ve been looking for, etc. It’s an old story, but a familiar one. I seem to go through periods of purging unread/unwanted volumes from the shelves, only to replace them with newer volumes whose newness ranks them high on the optimism scale for actually reading anytime soon…but likely will just assume their orderly positions at the bottom of my reading pile. Actually, I use reading “shelves,” but the concept’s the same. I do actually get to some of them over time, but most i’m saving for one of those “rainy day” things you hear about but never seem to execute. Given that where I live, Houston, gets a lot of rain you’d think i’d catch up at some point, but it’s rather hard when the reading pile grows faster at the back end while the front end doesn’t move as fast.
The other problem with being a closet bibliophile is that, like any expensive hobby, as the years past the cost of satisfying the urge increases. Since one of my interest areas is the medieval period, this makes for a dangerous exposure to some wonderful titles and worse, illuminated manuscripts. But so far, I’ve been able to control these urges protected with the simply fact that I have several hundred medieval titles in my library still unread, and that seems to keep me from adding more to the sagging shelves. Of course, actually reading a book isn’t a requirement to a bibliophile…the thrill of the hunt and the sated feeling from acquisition feeds the soul well enough. Reading the book is icing on the cake, but a delicious icing none the less.
random past musing: Big Bats
On a short day trip Saturday, I drove down to Louisville, Kentucky and toured the Louisville Slugger factory and museum. For a baseball fan, this is Mecca #2 (the first being Cooperstown Hall of Fame in upstate New York). As you can see, they make big bats in Louisville, big enough to ensure you can’t miss which building houses the museum and factory driving down the street.
After a rah-rah film about baseball hitting, I toured the factory where they make the famed Louisville Slugger bat for major leaguers, minor leaguers, and would-be leaguers. While the art of hand-latheing bats is long gone, the mechanized process is still interesting. Starting with billets made from northern white ash felled from old growth forests along the New York/Pennsylvania state line (and an increasing amount of maple due to Barry Bond’s recent influence), the bats are sculpted via a computerized lathe with uncanny accuracy. (Unfortunately, cameras weren’t allowed in the factory part of the building.) They are then branded, sanded, and finished to each major leaguer’s spec. While the factory is computerized and as modern as this process allows, the workforce is not so modern. Seems like the Louisville Slugger’s future is somewhat in doubt since their aging workforce has no real replacements inline for the years ahead. Average experience of the workers there is currently over 35 years.
Funniest comment heard on the tour: “Did you make Sammy Sosa’s corked bat?”
Most interesting trivia heard: Ken Griffey Jr.’s bats are finished with a multi-layer coating to hide the wood grain. Seems he thinks the bat’s wood grain pattern is visually distracting while batting. Talk about being focused.
The museum portion was interesting with the usual touches of nostalgia and a generous amount of famous player’s bats, as evidenced by Lou Gehrig’s stick below. And what tour would be complete without the requisite stop in the gift shop? While I didn’t buy anything (they did give me a mini-Louisville Slugger as a souvenir of the tour, something that’ll come in handy should I have to fend off tiny baseballs thrown at me), it was interesting to see how many gaudy things they can conceive using a bat theme.
You can see another angle of the big bat on my photo blog, Visual Flow.
random past musing: Making the List
Some people make New Year’s Resolutions while others tend their goal-gardens year-round in hopes of keeping the weeds out and encouraging the flowers of progress. Whatever your method, instilling a passion to improve makes a difference in whether you’ll be successful wholly or partly in your personal improvement endeavors. And what better way to crack the steel doors of success than by setting passion-inspired goals.
Another way to approach the goals, resolutions, and to dos of our lives is to create a lifetime achievement list. I did one of these about ten years ago, and have to admit that I haven’t been as proactive in maintaining it as I should have, so after I finish writing this I need to go check my list to see whether weeds or flowers have sprouted there since last I looked.
The Houston Chronicle this morning carried William Hageman’s article from the Chicago Tribune “A List for a Lifetime – Catalog what you want to do in life — then do it” chronicling the lists of three people who’ve embraced this approach to goal setting with great success. A lifetime list is one where you list all the things you’d like to do during your life, so long as they are realistic (defined as obtainable, feasible…”I want to fly to the moon” is not realistic, but “get my pilot’s license” certainly is). When I created my list long ago, I structured it as the “100 things I want to do in life.” I’ll admit that I didn’t unwrap 100 things from my psyche, but I now realize that setting a finite number makes no sense. The point is the process, not the count.
So brew up a fresh cup of coffee, let the cat outside, put the phone in the freezer, and spend some quality time with yourself and a yellow pad and pen. Find a comfy chair and let your mind wander, writing down anything that surfaces that reflects your passions, lost opportunities, or just cool things you think would be sweet to do. Then keep this list handy through the years and add new things as they unfold and revise to suit your evolving life. It’s okay to laugh or cry at the absurdity of your choices, so long as you keep moving forward. When success strikes, pause and let its sweet taste inspire you for even greater things as you make your lifetime achievement list that much shorter.
random past musing: A Touch of Madness
There as many reasons people write as there are writers; as many resolves to continue writing in the face of obstacles as there are reasons to get back to the page after the knock-down of a rejection letter. Each of us writes for different reasons, but all of us share one thing in common: a terminal case of insanity.
As a lover of words and how they can tease and cajole at the same time, I’ve always loved this alternate definition of insanity: doing the same thing over and over while expecting different results. Doesn’t that define most writers? What writer doesn’t continue sending out a manuscript or article, despite of the growing pile of rejection letters? Or constantly editing a story until its right, only to lay it aside and upon reading months lady, edit some more? Doesn’t that, well, describe one who has a touch of insanity?
The answer, of course, is a qualified no. One can easily look at writing as a work of the insane if following the definition above. It’s no stretch to think of spending hours writing towards some unknown reward without wondering if there’s a touch of the madness at work, but so be it. Outsiders can only watch and wonder why we do what we do; we who write understand the need to keep the hand moving despite the odds, the criticism, and yes, the fact that we’re often stuck in a constant loop, trying the same thing over and over expecting different (better) results.
Susan Stamberg interviewed Edward Albee this morning on NPR’s Morning Edition. While the focus was on Albee discussing the influence of Samuel Beckett on Albee’s work, at the end of the interview Albee offered this profound observation:
> “Wouldn’t it be terrible to think you’d written your best work? I keep hoping that everything I write is going to be better than anything I’ve written before…otherwise, why write?”
So ignore those cretins who don’t get it, the family members who nag you hoping you’ll “come to your senses” and get a real job, or those rejectors who can’t recognize your talents…yet. Despite having a touch of the madness, it helps to frequently remind yourself why you write. Oh, and I almost forgot: don’t forget you have an appointment with the tailor at 2 this afternoon. You do want to look fashionable in your white jacket, don’t you? The one with those really long, self-hugging sleeves? I thought so.
random past musing: My Dogmas are Barking
Pogo once said it best: “We have met the enemy and he is us.” Sometimes we are, indeed, our worst enemies. It’s easy at times to fall back into the “woulda, coulda, shouldas” that keep us from progressing. Positive thinking seems to equate to forward thinking, which by definition implies that one shouldn’t dwell on the past. I love the line from Tony Blair’s recent speech about leadership: “I have not got a reverse gear.” Adopting a forward-motion-only attitude can only encourage better progress in life.
One of my passions has been books…reading, writing, collecting, selling…doesn’t matter. I started selling used and rare books on the Internet back in 1993, and 4 years ago actually quit my partnership in a writing and design firm to devote full time to this passion. As it turned out, I was allergic to starving, so I had to stop bookselling and go get a, gasp, “J” thing…one of those indentured servitude ventures commonly known as a “job.” But I always felt that I “shoulda” made it work, that I “coulda” done things different, and I “woulda” been happier if I had stuck it out and made it successful. Granted, the most enjoyable aspect of bookselling on the Internet was the ability to converse and sell a book to someone in Ireland while siting in my pajamas with a stocked refrigerator just a short walk away.
As I attempt to quiet my barking dogmas, I’ve come to realize that I shouldn’t give up my passion of life among books, and so I’m going back to bookselling but on a part-time, avocational path this time. While I’m not giving up the job (I may like working in my pajamas, but I’m not crazy), I am following my heart and my path as Carlos Castaneda once said:
> Does this path have a heart? If it does, the path is good; if it doesn’t, it is of no use. Both paths lead nowhere; but once has a heart, the other doesn’t. One makes for a joyful journey; as long as you follow it, you are one with it. The other one will make you curse your life. One makes you strong; the other weakens you.
So now, for at least a small corner of my internal dogpound, my dogmas are as happy as yorkies high on yummy treats. The enemy may be us, but when we negotiate the right kind of peace treaty with our internal enemy, all becomes quiet on the front.
