Gesh's Globe

Stillman 8 Mos

2009-01-22T23:14:00.005-05:00

Christmastide in Jim Thorpe

2008-12-21T17:56:00.010-05:00

Stillman has taken to falling asleep on my shoulders, like a roosting bird.

Everyone Must Elf

2008-12-18T10:50:00.001-05:00

Send your own ElfYourself eCards

Just some recent shots

2008-12-17T00:40:00.009-05:00

Stillman, dude, your mom is hot.

Christmas Tree

2008-12-17T00:32:00.008-05:00

Here we are on the excursion to select and purchase our tree . . . .
Here's the decoratin' party.

Here's Stillman admiring our handiwork.

And here's another picture of him in that hat, just to be gratuitous.

North Carolina

2008-12-17T00:11:00.020-05:00

We stayed in North Carolina for two weeks while work was being done on our place. Stillman got to bond with his Grandmama Fay . . .

. . . and his Grandpa Joe.

Stillman's spankin' new set of wheels . . . .

We also got to visit Aunt Lue. Tom's grandson Evan was there. Evan is exactly one month older than Stillman.

We met Vanal and his mom and grandmother at Aunt Lue's (They drove up from South Carolina so Vanal could spend a weekend with us in Greensboro). Between ourselves, Vanal's family, and Tom's children and grandson, it was a nice big impromptu gathering on the day after Thanksgiving, with lots of leftovers and holiday cheer.

Nadia and Betty with Stillman.

Aunt Lue with the Boy.

Stillman even got to have his first campfire that night. S'mores and everything. Like mixing 4th of July with Thanksgiving.

We spent our last weekend in NC with Tom and Lue, including a visit to downtown Matthews for some holiday festivities.

Stillman 7 Months

2008-12-17T00:05:00.006-05:00

Stillman turned 7 months while we were in North Carolina, so the scenery is a bit different in this month's montage . . . .

Trip to New York

2008-12-16T23:37:00.019-05:00

In November, we did a quick trip back to NYC. We got to spend some time with Sophia's good friend and former colleague, Melsie, and her family . . . .

Then got to see the Uncles Matchie . . .

. . . And Johnny . . .

And topped it all off with a nice gathering at Marcel's.

Stillman with Marcel's brother Omar.

Omar's fiancee Nancy.

Honorary cousins Kiefer and Keanu.

Annabelle, a.k.a Auntiebelle.
And of course Grandma Annette.

Halloween

2008-11-04T20:21:00.010-05:00

Stillman 6 Months

2008-11-03T22:13:00.012-05:00

Fall Photos

2008-10-18T21:49:00.010-04:00

Stillman 5 Months

2008-09-30T21:11:00.013-04:00

Indian Summer Photos

2008-09-21T21:52:00.037-04:00

Stillman 4 Months

2008-09-09T20:02:00.005-04:00

Recent Photos

2008-09-09T19:46:00.017-04:00

Stillman 3 Months

2008-09-09T19:41:00.005-04:00

Economy: When the Rich Start to Suffer . . . .

2008-08-04T08:38:00.002-04:00

Interesting AP story today about a kind of "trickle-up" effect: when the economy gets sour enough, the pain eventually sets in for the wealthiest segment of the population. And because of the massively inequitable distribution of wealth in our society -- with the top 1o percent of households representing 25 percent of consumer spending and the top fifth of households earning half of all income -- when the rich start to curtail their lavish ways, it has serious repercussions throughout the economy. With the decrease in consumer demand that this segment represents, companies start dropping the ax on us little people. And guess who's better able to weather a tough economy, the paycheck-to-paycheck family of modest means who lose their source of income, or the high-net-worth individuals with thick investment portfolios who now have to choose between the impulse buy of a $1700 purse and a last-minute $1700 weekend in the Hamptons?

For the whole article, click here.

Culture: Aren't We a Bright Lot, Though?

2008-07-25T09:27:00.002-04:00

Yesterday TLS was watching "The Family Feud," and from the next room, this is what I heard:

HOST: Name something a man making a deal with the devil might ask for.

FAMILY MEMBER #1: Money!

HOST: Let's see if "Money" is up there. Yes! It's the number-one answer! On to you, Harold. Name something a man making a deal with the devil might ask for.

FAMILY MEMBER #2: Greed!

REST OF THE FAMILY: Good answer! Good answer!

Family: Road Trip to the Home Place

2008-07-24T11:12:00.017-04:00

It was certainly impromptu; my blessed beautiful car had been parked behind Brother Beorn's house for more than six months, and I was beginning to fear that it would simply crumble into the earth if I didn't get it out of there and start driving it again. So, with a sudden lull in work, we decided to seize the moment and just head northward to retrieve it, laying aside plans for a more structured visit next month.

What a beautiful time of year to visit the North Country! Fresh air, everything just as lush and verdant as the mind can imagine, the lovely farm smells, a massive pink sun sinking over wet pasture where cows graze, the rivers all swollen and happy.

Sister Lue and I (with help from Niece Lauren) saddled up my parents' two rideable horses and took a beautiful evening jaunt up the road where we used to ride when we were teenagers. Much has changed there, but it felt like a time warp to be riding along with my big sister -- especially when we passed the power line where the redwing blackbird used to scold and chase us. One of its descendants is still there, guarding the same spot. We rode into a meadow and let the horses run, and I can't describe how good it felt to be charging down the field with a horse beneath me. I need more of that in my life.

And peppermint still grows abundantly along the brook where we used to play as kids. I harvested three large bunches of it which are now drying in my kitchen, for tea.

Our visit happened to correspond with the annual Summerfest of the town of Hopkinton, the subject of my father's recently published history book. He, Mom, Aunt Di and Chrissy were set up at the museum/historical society to sign copies of the book for sale.

Stillman got to meet lots of new relatives (The Blogger apologizes to those many who were not photographed. He was simply not on the ball.). But we did get shots of Aunt Nichelle . . . .

. . . and Dear Sweet Cousin Molly Bryn.

He got to reconnect with Grandma Irene:
And see his cousin Lauren again.

Meeting Cousin Truman was interesting for him. When Truman's mom, Nichelle, held Stillman for the first time, Truman took it as the dirtiest sort of betrayal, and set about howling and screeching with indignation and hurt. This is a picture of him not howling and screeching with indignation and hurt, though.

Eventually an uneasy peace developed between the two cousins. (For the record, Truman seemed completely okay with the idea of his father, Jonathan, holding Stillman). By the end of the visit, Truman was even giving him hair (you touch your hair and then reach out and touch the head of the recipient, see).

Three generations of male Burnetts . . . .

As for head-kicking, I've lost all ambition for it. Attentive reader Kenrya points out that the world record is a mere 77 blows, but if anyone is going to shatter that record, it won't be me. It will be my sister Chrissy, against whom it seems futile to even contemplate competing. How do you beat someone who doesn't even have to bend over to kick herself in the head? Check this out:

Family: The Congers Drop In

2008-07-16T10:11:00.006-04:00

Cousin Maria and two of her brood, Elisabeth and Young John, dropped by for a night over the weekend, in transit from other parts of PA to the northern stomping grounds. We had a very pleasant visit, sitting up on the deck until after midnight visiting, joking, and performing acrobatic feats. Most notably, we worked on kicking ourselves in the head, which is roughly as difficult as it sounds. It requires a certain degree of balance and flexibility, and the nice thing about it is that it's impossible to even try without causing those around you to erupt in laughter, and that tends to make you laugh, too, which makes the whole endeavor just that much more challenging.

We've all vowed to work on it until one of us breaks the world record, which is only, like, 145 times or something. A little conditioning and that sucker is mine to hold, I swear it.

In the morning we took some photos with Stillman, but he was pretty sleepy, so he looks more like a clump of clay than an actual human child.

Family: Your Basic Baby Update

2008-07-16T09:39:00.007-04:00

Young Stillman continues to thrive, and astounds us with the way he changes daily. We're guessing he must weigh 16 pounds or so, and as you can see from the photos, he's developing quite a unibrow and his hair is lightening considerably.

He's remarkably alert these days, making eye contact from way across the room, and paying close attention to his three favorite objects: the television (I know, I know! We don't let him watch it, but if you carry him into a room where it's on, his eyes zoom in on it, especially commercials for local car dealerships); a plastic star that lights up and plays classical music; and as is the case with all babies, of course, an iron image of the Hindu elephant-god Ganesh.

Yes, my son worships graven images. I think it's funny; TLS thinks it's creepy. A few years ago, I brought home from India this dull-black iron depiction of Ganesh. When we moved into this place, I half-jokingly hung it on our bedroom wall where a screw was sticking out. A week or so ago, we realized that every time we carried Stillman past it, he looked at it and smiled. Now, it's not just a matter of smiling. He coos at it, laughs at it, stares meaningfully at it. It stops him from crying. Really, he's fussing and you carry him over to the wall and hold him up to it and he starts to laugh. The thing just hangs there, dull black, but it somehow entertains him or otherwise holds great significance to him.

It's getting really fun to play with him. He laughs, is starting to giggle, and plays The Howling Game with me. In the Howling Game, what you do is, is you howl at each other. He makes the greatest shouting/howling/laughing noises, which I do my best to imitate. Sometimes it can go on for 15 minutes, just us looking at each other and trying out new sounds. He's pretty attentive when we read to him, too. Sometimes he'll spend a good quarter hour looking through books with us, staring at the pictures, occasionally yelling at them. Kind of like me with the TV.

And he remains a serious music fan. He likes a beat, and he likes it loud. Lacking breasts as I do, it's the only truly reliable method I have for calming him. Crank up some music and dance. You can't try to dance without music; that's just stupid. Same with music without dancing. But put the two together, and it soothes the savage beast.

Politics: Freedom and Rights (July 4th Musings)

2008-07-10T09:26:00.003-04:00

So I'm a bit late for Independence Day reflections, but hey -- only by five days. Rather than waiting until next year, I wanted to share a few notions that have been chasing each other around in my head recently, making my brainbox clatter, before they dissipate forever.

On my recent trip to Jamaica, I was struck, as I often am when traveling in the "developing world," at how free the people there are. Now I realize it is heretical and blasphemous to put forth the idea that people in another country enjoy greater freedoms than we do in the U.S., but it's pretty hard to argue that they don't: just witness people zipping around on motorcycles with no helmets, racing around in cars with no seatbelts, carrying their babies on their laps instead of strapping them into carseats -- and that's just the automotive stuff. How about walking down the street with a marijuana joint in one hand and a Red Stripe in the other? (Yes, marijuana is illegal, but nobody's going to bother you about it out in the bush) How about not having to work for the government for the first three months of every year?

Now, do I want to do all of those things, or do I think that they're good ideas? No, all except for shrugging off some of the tax burden. But it would be nice to make those decisions myself, and it's pretty undeniable that the people in Jamaica (and a lot of other places) live much more freely than we do, at least if your definition of freedom has to do with being left alone to make your own choices about how you conduct your everyday life. So jingoists who spout the line that the USA is the freest country on the planet either are ignorant of how the world actually functions or they're confusing freedom with rights.

We do have good rights in the US, no doubt about it. But the way I've come to see it, there is a practical tension between rights and freedom. You have to surrender some of your freedom to secure your rights. I'm being a bit abstract here, so let me lay down something concrete by way of illustration.

Several years ago, my brother-in-law moved to Haiti, in large part because of the freedoms he could find there. As you may know, Haiti has almost no functioning government. People are left alone to sort things out. There's not even such a thing as a building permit. You want to build, you put up your structure and get on with life. There's no reliable electrical system, so you wire up something using a generator -- no light bill, no regulation. And if someone steals a dozen eggs, he will be chased down by his neighbors and beaten, perhaps to death, his body left on a garbage heap. Nice, right? Your neighbors will definitely think twice about pilfering eggs from off your porch.

But here's where it gets tricky. What if someone thinks they saw you steal a dozen eggs, but you were actually at home with your children at the time of the theft? It's pretty hard to argue your case against a mob determined to do you harm. In the US, we have the wonderful right of due process, a trial by peers, a chance to defend oneself in open court.

But you can't have the rule of law without sacrificing some of your freedoms. You've got to organize into civil society, abide by more and more rules, pass some laws, get some order going, allow the government into your life and into your wallet. Is it a worthwhile tradeoff? When the gang of neighbors has you cornered up against the garbage heap, you certainly might think so.

But these things are not absolute. The balance between freedom and rights changes constantly with passage of new laws, court precedents, the political mood. At some points in our history, that balance has looked quite different than it does today or will tomorrow. Somewhere in abstraction lies the perfect balance. Compared with a lot of other countries in the world, the US is doing all right in finding that balance. Compared to others, not so great. We have the rule of law, sort of: but the blacker your skin, or the further down the economic ladder you happen to be, the less enforceable some of those rights seem to be. And when it comes to the basic balance between how freely we get to live and how secure our rights are, I think we're losing ground.

This was driven home to me a few days ago when I was out riding my bike. One of my favorite trails is a dirt road sandwiched between the river and the railroad tracks. It goes along like that for miles. I stopped for a drink of water and an older gentleman pedaled up to me and we started talking. Somehow we got onto the subject of the railroad tracks, and he said something about how you didn't ever want to venture onto them because they'd fine you for trespassing if you got caught. I began to bemoan the loss of the old freedom of strolling along the tracks to one's heart's content. "I hate that people aren't allowed to make their own choices about things like that," I said. "The government always seems to be deciding for you what things are safe enough for you to do."

He looked at me kind of funny and said, "The railroad and the government don't care at all about your safety. The railroad just doesn't want to have to defend itself in a lawsuit because your foot got stuck in the track."

True enough, I realized. We in the US have this wonderful right to sue for the redress of grievances and damages. I've spoken to enough people who were woefully maimed by malpracticing doctors to believe very strongly in that right. And yet the ample exercise by enough people of the right to sue has resulted in the curtailing of a personal freedom: the freedom to spend a lazy afternoon seeing where the tracks go.

And it's not just railroad tracks. In my lifetime, I've seen an astonishing number of personal freedoms just disappear from this country, sacrificed to public health and national security with virtually no thought to the reality of the threat. No kids under 12 in the front seat. Why not? Well, because there's a very, very slim chance that you might get into an accident. And if you do get into an accident, there's a slim chance that it might be just such an accident as to cause the airbag to deploy. And if the airbag deploys, there's a slim chance that it might injure your child. Yet we follow these rules, and follow them, and follow them.

There are some pretty obvious reasons why that's a bad thing, but let me suggest one not-so-obvious repercussion of all this: the psychological fallout. Put up enough gates and barriers and warning stickers and ordinances and no-trespassing signs, and pretty soon you have a population that believes their world is absolutely fraught with peril (especially when you throw in some television, including the 6:00 news). Walk along the railroad tracks? Everybody knows that's dangerous; look at all the signs and laws against it!

Americans used to be an intrepid people. We used to go out into the world and do bold things, confident in our self-sufficiency. We're not like that anymore. We're an increasingly timid, law-abiding, stay-at-home people. Who makes it out to Jamaica's Cockpit Country these days? Germans. Dutch. Australians. The Americans are down on the coast, at the Sandals resort, safe within their fortress.

One final note to my rant. I've talked about the natural tension between rights and freedoms, and I've said that in the balance between them, we've been losing ground. The worst eventuality is an erosion of both rights and freedoms simultaneously. And I would contend that we have experienced just that over the past eight years. If you're a conservative and a Clinton-basher, I'm certainly not going to argue that the Clinton years didn't see a diminishment of personal freedoms -- but what do you make of an administration that codifies torture, conducts illegal domestic spying, suspends habeus corpus, and on and on?

This election is about some very basic things. I posted a couple of days ago about some of my reservations concerning Obama. But voters would do well to ask themselves which of the two candidates is more likely to continue the Bush Administration's policies of simultaneously curtailing our rights and our freedoms. The US will not be a very nice place to live when we are overburdened by taxes, penned in by laws that touch every corner of our lives, and denied the human rights which once made the sacrifice of a few freedoms seem worthwhile.

Music: The Sweet Playlist

2008-07-09T11:04:00.003-04:00

Yes, friends, the Globe's music editors have been toiling ceaselessly to bring you the Sweet playlist, and it's finally here. It is the product of your own input along with their carefully selected numbers, all designed to bring you and your children and pets relief and peace on a summer's day.

It is a lengthy playlist, spanning genres ranging from New Orleans jazz to Hawaiian ukulele to reggae to country to West African to American folk to French pop, and a little song in Portuguese just to round things out. Because this is Old Gesh's list, there had to be one Manu Chao song. And at least one Willie Nelson. Please let us apologize in advance if you suggested a song and do not see it on the list. It wasn't that we didn't like it or that we don't love you; only that acquiring the song proved prohibitive.

As a special added bonus, to complete your hammock experience, we're throwing in the recipe for Uncle Gesh's Gin & Tonic Without Any Gin:

1. Fill a tall glass with ice-cold ice.

2. Squeeze half a lime into it. Really, don't be shy with the lime. You aren't going to hurt anything.

3. Fill 'er up with fizzly water.

4. Stir it, if you're into that sort of thing.

5. Turn on the Sweet playlist.

6. Take a sip.

7. Recline.

Of course, if you're the kind of person who enjoys a little gin in your gin&tonic, you can put some of that in there, but be sure not to totally fill up the glass with fizzly water first, because it will spill over the rim when you add the gin.

The playlist resides here, all available for download. Here's the list on paper:

1. A-Ha: Dark Is The Night for All

2. Wilco: How to Fight Loneliness

3. Salif Keita: Baba

4. Jack Johnson: Lullaby

5. Baaba Maal: Myaabele

6. Samite: Ngwino Rukundo

7. Gregory Isaacs: Stranger in Town

8. Beth Orton: Sweetest Decline

9. Julien Jacob: Cotonou

10. Louise Attaque: Du Nord Au Sud

11. Nickel Creek: Out of the Woods

12. Joe Strummer and the Mescaleroes: X-Ray Style

13. The Wailin' Jennys: Barefoot Floors

14. Don Williams: My Rifle, My Pony and Me

15. Grateful Dead: Ripple

16. The Weepies: A Painting by Chagall

17. Alison Krauss: Baby Mine

18. Daniel Lanois: San Juan

19. Willie Nelson: It Always Will Be

20. Jimmy Buffet: Tin Cup Chalice

21. Willie Nelson: Overtime

22. Louis Armstrong: When It's Sleepytime Down South

23. Manu Chao: Mina Galera

24. Israel Kamakawiwo'ole: Somewhere Over The Rainbow/What a Wonderful World

25. Sade: By Your Side

26. The Beautiful South: Everybody's Talking

27. John Denver: Sunshine on My Shoulder

Human Folly: Run, Mr. Homosexual, Run!

2008-07-08T17:12:00.002-04:00

From the Washington Post:

The American Family Association obviously didn't foresee the problems that might arise with its strict policy to always replace the word "gay" with "homosexual" on the Web site of its Christian news outlet, OneNewsNow. The group's automated system for changing the forbidden word wound up publishing a story about a world-class sprinter named "Tyson Homosexual" who qualified this week for the Beijing Olympics.

The problem: Tyson's real last name is Gay. Therefore, OneNewsNow's reliable software changed the Associated Press story about Tyson Gay's amazing Olympic qualifying trial to read this way: "Tyson Homosexual was a blur in blue, sprinting 100 meters faster than anyone ever has. His time of 9.68 seconds at the U.S. Olympic trials Sunday doesn't count as a world record, because it was run with the help of a too-strong tailwind. Here's what does matter: Homosexual qualified for his first Summer Games team and served notice he's certainly someone to watch in Beijing."

Politics: Obama Fundraising Decision

2008-07-08T09:28:00.002-04:00

Weeks ago, back when it was news, Brother Beorn sent me this e-pistle:

We don't get to see much about the election on the Globe. I wonder if you can shed any light on this announcement about Obama's fundraising that's getting so much hype. What I've been able to gather so far is that a public campaign financing system was set up as a response to Watergate and that it was supposed to be designed to control funding by lobbyists and special interest groups. Apparently it exists as an option. You can either use public money and that's all you can spend or you can refuse the public money and you're on your own with no limit except what you're capable of raising. I also gather that since its inception no major candidate in a general election has opted not to use it. Taken alone, it seems like it would be a very fair system. On the other hand, it looks like there is a back door, which I don't entirely understand, that puts the Republican Party at an advantage in this system. I guess the Party itself can go ahead and raise money to support the campaign rather than having the candidate raise it. Is all of this right so far? Are there restrictions on how the party can fundraise? Do the lobbyists and special interest groups just buy the party instead of the candidate?What makes for the advantage in the Republican Party under that system? Is it just that the wealthiest special interest groups are controlling the GOP?

Now, what about this reversal of Obama? Apparently he said last year that he would use the public funding system in the general election. Now he's saying it's a broken system. Presumably the system hasn't changed since last year. What has changed is that it's real clear that he can raise more money on his own than is available in the public system and more than McCain can raise either way. Wasn't Obama's statement last year supposed to be a moral high-road decision in support of the public financing system, implying that it was a good thing?

I'm planning on voting for Obama. I'm even thinking about giving him my own $10. I would like to understand this issue better. I'd like to assume that he's intelligent and has some integrity. The media often confuses things by oversimplifying but to me, this is what it looks like:Last year it looked good to say that he would support the public finance system because it's reform oriented. Now the money looks too good (not to mention the impressive feat of raising that much money in small donations) to pass it up and so he's putting the best political spin on it that he can manage by saying that the public system is unfair the way the Republicans use it. Did he not know last year that it would be the Republicans he'd be running against in a general election?What are your thoughts? What am I missing? What light do you have to bestow?

Let me preface my response by saying that, according to everything I've read, you've pretty much got it right, minus a couple of details. First, if you accept public financing, you don't have to stick to the $84 million of public money, but you do have to abide by other limitations (such as a nearly $30,000 limit on donations to party committees). As far as the loopholes go, yes, for one thing the political parties can finance their candidates lavishly. There's also an ability to gather unlimited money in "527s," which have nonprofit status and are not part of the party structure (Remember those delightful Swift Boat Veterans For "Truth?" 527). In terms of the advantages enjoyed by Republicans under the public system, as it happens this year, although Obama has outraised McCain by far, the RNC itself has an extremely deep war chest compared to that of the Democrats. And they're also just much more adept at exploiting this system. Which is not at all to say that Democrats aren't swayed by special interests or willing to game the system -- they're just not as good at it.

So what about the decision and its implications? I guess I'd make four points:

1. It means Obama will stand a chance of winning. Financially, he will keep the upper hand now, and ought to be able to campaign in places where he might not have been able to otherwise.

2. In the end, by refusing public financing and relying on the contributions of political donors, Obama is, to a great degree, accomplishing what the public system with its loopholes has failed to accomplish: giving access to ordinary people like you and me. Nearly half of his contributions have been for $200 or less, not from lobbyists invited to $1,000-a-plate dinners.

3. It's dissapointing that he would break his word. I have no problem with his opting for private funding, but as you say, why did he state that he'd do otherwise a few months ago? It suggests that back then he was either being disingenuous or short-sighted, neither of which does much for his image. If you want to spin it or look for the silver lining, you could point out that he is, in the end, doing the smart thing by taking the hit that comes with breaking your word (and taking it now, strategically), and that at least he isn't recalcitrant enough to stick to a failing plan just because he espoused it a few months ago. For this view, you can also see him recalibrating slightly on Iraq withdrawal as the situation changes there.

4. Get used to this kind of thing (And yes, I'm saying that to myself as much as to anyone else). Obama would not be where he is right now were he not a shrewd politician. Remember the elation and then letdown of the early Clinton years, as the liberal wing of the party saw compromise after compromise? I think that if Obama becomes president, we'll experience even more of that than we did under Clinton. Clinton turned out to be very much a centrist, of course, but remember that one of the core themes of Obama's message is national -- and party -- reconciliation. By all indications he's sincere about that, and most of us know that the real meaning of bipartisanship is a slide rightward. So now is as good a time as any to start pulling off the rose-colored lenses and get used to the fact that our candidate is a politician, not a saint.

The Globe/Politics: Inadvertent Injection of Truth

2008-07-08T09:09:00.002-04:00

Here's what happens when diplomats get lazy and rely on objective sources rather than making up their own malarkey:

White House sorry about Berlusconi bio gaffe

By DEB RIECHMANN Associated Press Writer
8:02 AM EDT, July 8, 2008
TOYAKO, Japan -
Sorry about that, Silvio. An embarrassed White House apologized on Tuesday for an "unfortunate mistake" -- the distribution of less-than-flattering biography of Italian Premier Silvio Berlusconi at the Group of Eight summit. Still, the gaffe led to headlines in Italy. The summary of Berlusconi was buried in a nearly inch-thick tome of background that the White House distributed at the summit of major economic powers. The press kit was handed out to the White House traveling press corps. The biography described Berlusconi as one of the "most controversial leaders in the history of a country known for government corruption and vice."
It was just last month that Berlusconi welcomed Bush to Rome, calling him "a personal friend of mine and also a great friend of Italy." And Bush responded then: "You're right. We're good friends." he biography, written by Encyclopedia of World Biography, said Berlusconi burst onto the political scene with no experience and used his "vast network of media holdings" to finance his campaign on a promise to "purge the notoriously lackadaisical Italian government of corruption." The biography went on to say that Berlusconi was appointed to the prime minister's office in 1994, "however, he and his fellow Forza Italia Party leaders soon found themselves accused of the very corruption he had vowed to eradicate."

In a written apology, White House spokesman Tony Fratto said the biography used insulting language." The sentiments expressed in the biography do not represent the views of President Bush, the American government, or the American people," he said. "We apologize to Italy and to the prime minister for this very unfortunate mistake." Corriere della Sera, a leading Italian daily and one of several newspapers featuring the case on its front page, said: "US gaffe, then the apology."

The Globe: Jamaica's Cockpit Country

2008-07-07T09:07:00.012-04:00

The Blogger spent about a week in Jamaica's Cockpit Country, reporting an article for Discovery Channel Magazine. The Cockpit Country is a unique and little-traveled section of the island's interior which has always been so inhospitable that it has managed, in large part, to avoid development. Most Jamaicans have still never set foot there. As you can see from the photo above, its topography resembles an inverted egg carton -- steep hills separated by deep recesses that reminded the colonizing British of the pits used for cockfighting. Hence the name Cockpit.

The Cockpit is precious for many reasons: it's the watershed for the tourism-intensive north coast; it's the world's foremost example of limestone karst topography (a landscape of limestone covered by jungle canopy); it's home to several endemic species, including the giant swallowtail butterfly (largest butterfly in the Western hemisphere), two species of parrot, and the Jamaican yellow boa; and it's home to a people group called the Maroons. The Maroons are national heroes to Jamaicans, since they are the longest continuous population of freedmen in the Americas. They were slaves who escaped from the Spanish and later battled the British for decades from their redoubt in the heart of the Cockpit Country. Pity the hapless Redcoats, sent into this hot, overgrown, treacherous, malarial, waterless place to do battle with the expert locals, who defeated army after army sent in to rout them. The British ended up signing a peace treaty with the Maroons, whose leader, Captain Cudjoe, insisted that it be done the African way, using the parties' blood for ink.

The Maroons still live in the village of Accompong, and I went there to visit the locals and interview the elders. It's sad to see the state of their culture. They pride themselves on the purity of their African culture (They are Ashanti, from what is now Ghana); because they have been so isolated from the rest of Jamaica, and because their treaty with the British allowed them a certain degree of autonomy, they managed to avoid a lot of outside cultural influences for much of their history. But the world keeps shrinking. Now people want more things. They want to get out. They want their kids to get out. Few of them want to stick around Accompong growing yams and not really having an income. So the elders face a dilemma: either bring in some kind of development or lose the population to greener pastures. Yet, of course, as they bring in development, a lot of outside influences will come in with it, and their cultural ties to Africa will continue to disappear as they become more Jamaican. As it is, most expressions of their Ashanti legacy are mere vestiges -- their language survives only in a few songs, their religion has been Christianized, and their physical artifacts are mere symbolic relics. The strongest remaining tie is their deep knowledge of the bush and its medicinal plants, and as they grow less and less close to the land, that, too, will disappear.

Anyway, it was a lot of fun reporting this piece. I got to bang around in the sweetest LandRover I've ever beheld, which belongs to a fantastic guy named Jan (on the left in the photo below). Jan is a Jamaican from Kingston who is part of the Jamaican Caves Organization, which is equal parts funtime outdoor club and serious conservationist group. Jan was my guide for most of my trip.

The Cockpit Country is littered with caves, and Jan took me into a couple. They're enormous and beautiful, a nice change from good old Eagle Cave in the Adirondacks. Jan and his partner in the Jamaican Caves Organization have traveled for miles in underground rivers through some of these caves.

When I got to Accompong, Jan and I parted company, and I took shelter with an older expatriate American, who's trying to open up a resort/camping ground kind of place. It sits on top of a beautiful hill with spectacular views, and it will consist mainly of raised cabana-style thatched-roof shelters. It's not open yet, but Tony took me in. You could do worse than to sit taking notes as a gentle rain falls on the Cockpit Country at your back . . . .

A very congenial farmer/caretaker named Gee, resting by the side of the road during the day's worst heat:

Jan, myself and a Peace Corps Volunteer named Paul spent one night with the family of the guy in the photo below. They have no electricity or running water, and use an outhouse and an outdoor kitchen with wood fire. They were very sweet, gracious people. We arrived after dark, and they were sitting on their front porch talking quietly in the dark: An old man, mother, father, a seven-year-old boy, and another boy under age two. The stars were raging overhead, and "peenie wallies" -- fireflies -- were flickering off in the dark among the yam vines and banana trees. I slept under the stars on the simple platform that comprises their back porch.

A father and son transporting yams by bicycle as the rain falls over Barbecue Bottom Road, which cuts through some of the prettiest scenery in the Cockpit Country:

Dango, who runs tours into Windsor Cave, the best-known cave in the Cockpit. Dango is also a subsistence farmer, so he gets up every morning before dawn, does his farming, then walks down the road to this shack at 10:00 or so. He sits in the shack until about 6:00 every evening, in case anyone comes along wanting to see the cave. He keeps a guestbook there, and by the looks of it, he averages maybe one visitor a week (and that's taking into account the fact that most arrive in groups of two or three). Ecotourism has just not taken off in the Cockpit Country. The crime rate in Jamaican cities has driven an "all-inclusive" style of tourism where most foreigners stay in beach resorts that are little self-contained universes and they never have to go out and brave the real Jamaica. So it's only a few intrepid souls who find their way out to the Cockpit Country, and even fewer who happen upon Dango's shack.

Family: Surprise Visit from Grandmama Fay

2008-07-07T08:20:00.007-04:00

A day and a half before we were to vacate the Jim Thorpe offices so that The Blogger could go to Jamaica to report a story and the Lovely Sophia and child could go to New York to pass the week with Auntie Marcel (Hon.), we got a call from Grandmama Fay in North Carolina saying that she had bought a ticket and was boarding a Greyhound bus to come introduce herself to her grandson. She is a woman of magnificent energy and great resolve; as she later explained, she had awakened that morning with the desire to come see Stillman, and you could have offered her a million dollars not to come and she would have refused it. So she did 12 or 14 or some similarly ungodly number of hours on the bus and stayed here for less than 24 hours, then turned around and did the long ride home.

But it was wonderful to have her here, and for her to get to meet Stillman. While TLS and Stillman were in New York, they got to visit Uncle Johnny, Grandpa Tooly and "Mama" (Stillman's great-grandmother) -- which means everyone in TLS's immediate family has got to meet Stillman now.

Family: Stillman Meets His Cousins

2008-07-06T23:19:00.006-04:00

A couple of weeks ago, we seized the opportunity for Stillman to get to meet his cousins Kameron and Kailey for the first time. They were up from Georgia, visiting relatives about an hour away from us in Pennsylvania. Obligations kept us here in Jim Thorpe until after 10:00 p.m., but then we jumped into the car and drove out for a one-hour visit. Kameron and Kailey are the brother/sister twin children born to Sophia's cousin Kerrine four months before Stillman was born.

This is the beautiful Kailey:

And here is young Kameron:

Kameron was absolutely ecstatic to meet Stillman. He sat there and smiled and screamed and shrieked with delight at the sight of his younger boy cousin.

Family & Friends: A Visit from Julie and Adrian

2008-07-06T14:22:00.007-04:00

Yes, loyal reader, Gesh's Globe is finally back up and running, and the prodigious staff here has vowed to really deliver the goods as a way of thanking you for your patience during this long hiatus.

As promised before we lit out for the territory, the first order of business is an account of our visit with dear friends Julie and Adrian, who now join the illustrious ranks of repeat visitors to the Jim Thorpe facilities.

It was a relaxing time; we stayed up late chatting and passing Stillman around, then the next day Julie, Adrian and I took a stroll down to the river, got our feet wet, threw rocks, saw a big spider, got yelled at for messing around on the railroad tracks, and then rejoined Stillman and TLS, who had been resting. And then, you won't believe this next part: We went to a little cafe down the street and sat there and had a meal! Our lives sure have changed. Not much more than a year ago, life was a whirlwind series of such outings -- the living was fast and easy. Now dining in a cafe down the street is a memorable event, the kind of thing that holds you for weeks. The old high-flying ways were fun, to be sure, but it's also nice to feel a bit more grounded and . . . what -- sustainable? Reasonable? Responsible? Poor?

The other thing that struck us about the visit is how very, very fortunate we are to have so many wonderful friends and family members, people whose company is so thoroughly enjoyable. As life's pleasures go, tell me something better than a relaxing summer weekend with family and good friends. I bet you can't.

The Blogger Leaves the Building

2008-06-25T16:38:00.003-04:00

Why is it that so many of my posts recently begin with an apology? And yet, I must say it again, dear readers: Sorry about the lack of posts of late. We here at the Globe have been rushing hither and yon, entertaining out-of-towners, working, and preparing for a week's absence.

That's right: The Blogger departs this evening on assignment to Jamaica, to a part of the island that is without internet (or electricity!), so this will be my last post until the middle of next week. Then, tune in for astonishing accounts -- with full-color photos! -- of the following events:

A VISIT FROM OUR DEAR FRIENDS JULIE AND ADRIAN!!!

AN IMPROMPTU FAMILY GET-TOGETHER, IN WHICH STILLMAN GETS TO MEET HIS TWIN COUSINS BORN JUST FOUR MONTHS BEFORE HIM!!!!

THE REMARKABLE RESULTS OF STILLMAN'S MOST RECENT CHECKUP!!!

A SURPRISE VISIT FROM GRANDMAMA FAY!!!

THE BLOGGER'S EXCURSIONS THROUGH THE REMOTEST PARTS OF JAMAICA!!!

And read all about the following:

OBAMA'S FUNDRAISING DECISION!!!!

THE OPEN ROAD: A LAMENT!!!!

SOMETHING FUNNY!!!!

THE ASTOUNDING RESULTS OF MY CALL FOR THE SWEETEST MUSIC!!!!

Also, don't miss these thrilling additions to Gesh's Globe:

VIDEO!!!!

A NEW FAMILY PHOTO, NOT TAKEN IN HOSPITAL!!!

Until then, dear readers, please be patient, please be responsible and thrifty and thorough, and please don't forget that this blog does exist and will one day reclaim its former magnificence.

Family: Update with Links to Photos

2008-06-20T13:09:00.003-04:00

Well, folks, I apologize for this, but I'm going to have to send you outside of this site to view the latest family photos. Because of some bandwidth issues, it just became too cumbersome to upload everything onto this blog. I do encourage you to check out the photos, though. There's some good ones in there.

Here's the latest from Jim Thorpe:

WISE MEN FROM THE EAST . . .

. . . came bearing gifts. Honorary Uncles Travis and Tom came out from NY/NJ to meet up with Stillman. We had a grand time lounging on our deck and traipsing about the environs. Travis, Tom, Vanal and I went down to the Lehigh River to splash around in the current, and had a great time just acting like river rats, throwing rocks, wading, exploring, and best of all, letting the current carry us quickly down back to our starting point. Vanal had an assignment to identify some local plants, so the four of us took to the forested hills behind the house with a guidebook in hand (Plant number one: Poison ivy). Vanal couldn't have known that there are no better people to do this sort of thing with than Travis and Tom, who have an infectious curiosity about the natural world. It's funny because they often defer to me on matters natural and botanical, but the truth is that I learn far more by hanging out with them in the woods because there's so much I've always taken for granted, whereas they're always wondering what this or that plant or tree is. And then retaining the knowledge, which I seldom do. It was wonderful to get to spend time with them again, and great to think about how much Stillman will learn from them when he's a little older.

UNCLE MATCHIE ROLLS INTO TOWN

Yes, the time came for Vanal's dad to come pick him up so he can spend the rest of his summer out in Arizona. It was sad to contemplate Vanal's visit coming to an end, but such a joy for Matchie and TLS to get together, and for Matchie to get to meet his nephew at last. Matchie just couldn't get enough of Stillman, holding him, smelling his head, even watching him sleep. And Stillman was pretty fascinated by him, too. One evening at the dinner table, Stillman just wouldn't take his eyes off his uncle. The visit was too short, but we're determined to make the next one happen soon.

COLD-WEATHER BOAT-RACING

It was dank and chilly the other day -- no more than 60 degrees - but Vanal and neighbor Austin decided it wasn't too cold to race boats down the brook. While we were there, I found a crayfish and caught it for the boys. Austin wouldn't touch it, but Vanal held it for a second, then dropped it and tried to crush it with a large rock. Don't worry; I saved it, and threatened to crush Vanal with an even larger rock. It was a chilly but very fun time for me; catching crayfish and spending time in a brook was a huge part of my childhood. I still retain an uncanny ability to rock-hop, a skill which is sadly not in high demand these days (Nevertheless, there are imaginable scenarios in which my rock-hopping prowess could be all that stands between all of us and the forces of darkness, you know).

VICTORY AT LAST!

With not a minute to spare, Vanal caught a fish before he left yesterday. He almost wasn't allowed to go fishing at all, because he had a plane to catch, but we let him go across the street with some neighbor kids. There's a little "duck pond" -- actually just a wide part of the brook where some local ducks live -- right flush against the street. It was good that Vanal went with other kids, because there was just enough peer pressure for him to keep his line in the water for a while, tend to his own equipment, and so on. I came across the street to bring him home so he could catch his plane. He wanted to try a spot upstream a little bit, so I decided to let him. He no sooner threw his line in there than he landed a nice little trout. We took it home, cleaned it, cooked it, and Vanal showered and rushed out the door victorious. A nice note for his visit to have ended on.

EMPTY NEST SYNDROME

So now we're here with no seven-year-old, and we're a bit sad. No making pancakes every morning. Nobody to wrestle with, or fish with, or hike with. Nobody reading to us in the evenings. Nobody falling asleep on our bed watching soccer, no gangly-limbed body to haul off to his bed at midnight. It's just not the same here without you, Vanal. You sure brightened up our home during your time here, and we can't wait till you can come back again!

Baby: Two months!

2008-06-20T12:22:00.007-04:00

Depending on how you count 'em. We're a bit puzzled about that. It's now been eight weeks since Stillman was born, so is that two months? Or is it only two months when it gets to be the 24th?

Anyway, because of technical difficulties, you'll notice that this time there's no photo of me leering over my child like I've just stolen him from a nursery and am about to suck his blood. That photo is soon to be found elsewhere, and I'll be directing you all to a plethora of photos in a subsequent post.

The mother/child one-month photo:

. . . compared to two months:

An attempted family self-portrait. Can you guess which of us wasn't quite in the mood?

Politics: Iraq Propaganda Revisited

2008-06-17T12:29:00.004-04:00

I know this is something that I harp on all the time, but no, I'm still not over the infuriating and, frankly, traumatic events that led to war in Iraq. Those of us who were paying attention at the time knew we were being lied to, knew that war was inevitable, and watched as our country went collectively insane, blind to all reason.

I just finished reading a year-old transcript of a Bill Moyers program which ought to be required reading for anyone with lingering doubts about whether the establishment press failed us completely during the run-up to the war. It's a fairly succinct yet compelling re-examination of why it was eminently possible to get the story right, but why cowardice and an atmosphere of enforced patriotism caused the vast majority of the media to abandon their responsibility to ask questions. It is still rather sickening to revisit, especially since those members of the press elite who ought to have been discredited and run out of town on a rail are now receiving Medals of Freedom and getting plum gigs at top media outlets -- as experts on Middle East affairs, no less!

Little wonder that journalists are held in such base contempt by the public, or that the average American feels that the only path to wisdom lies in never believing anything one reads.

Adventure: Quadraplegic Sailor

2008-06-17T09:33:00.002-04:00

So how would you react if I told you about a quadriplegic woman who embarked yesterday on an attempt to sail solo around England? What if I told you she makes adjustments to her rig by blowing into and sucking on straws connected to an electronic board which trims sails and tends the tiller? And that she is accompanied by support boats for her entire journey?

Would you scoff? Would you say that's not exactly sailing solo? Would you say that blowing into a couple of straws is hardly the same as doing all the work of cranking on windlasses, going forward to raise and lower sails, and so on?

There's a part of me that felt that way when I first read about her. But then I gave it a little more thought, read her web site, and reconsidered. As she lost more and more physical ability due to a degenerative disease, Hilary Lister fell in love with sailing. It got her outside in the sunshine and open air, in the spell of the eternal ocean. She began doing longer and longer jaunts. She decided to set goals for herself. One goal is this voyage around England.

No one came knocking on her door and said, "I've got a way to make you one of those famous handicapped people who sets some kind of crazy record. It'll be easy, really. We'll just prop you up and all you'll have to do is blow into these straws."

If the lady wants to sail around England, and this is the way it's to be done, then more power to her. If the world wants to cheer, so be it. If some of us can't help setting standards for her based on how life is for people with four working limbs instead of zero, that's our shortcoming, not hers.

Photos: A Portfolio of Sorts

2008-06-12T10:04:00.002-04:00

As most of you know, I'm a writer, and by no means a photographer. However, over the past few years, I've been trying to develop some photography skills, not just for work-related reasons, but because I really love excellent photos, and I really enjoy trying to take good pictures.

In a couple of weeks, I'm heading to a fascinating and inhospitable part of Jamaica called the Cockpit Country, on an assignment for Discovery Channel Magazine. My editor asked me to do the photography as well as the reporting, and I replied that I had pretty serious reservations about my abilities as a photographer. Nevertheless, I sent him a "portfolio" of my work to let him judge for himself, and I was quite surprised at his positive reaction to my pictures.

So in the spirit of celebration, and just to kind of share, you're welcome to view the -- ahem -- portfolio -- here. You can view it as a slideshow, kind of, by clicking on the first pic and then the Next Photo tab at the top.

Music: The Sweetest Thing

2008-06-11T11:54:00.003-04:00

It may be the drowziness of summer, or it may be having a small music-loving baby in the house, but lately I've been seeking out what I call "sweet" music, or "hammock" music. Not that I have a hammock. But if I did, there's a certain kind of music that I'd want to hear as I lazed about and gazed up into the treetops.

Do you know what I'm talking about? It's also good lullabye music, although it's not designed as such. No dirges, but nothing too fast-paced. Just sweet.

So, you all did so well with the pop list that now I'm asking for your candidates for sweet hammock music, music to doze off to, music for babies and for lounging adults. Any genre, as long as it's got that certain sweet.

For two examples of what I'm talking about, click here .

Family: First Weekend of Summer

2008-06-09T10:47:00.015-04:00

Okay, so it's not officially summer, but we over here at Gesh's Globe could be fooled into thinking otherwise. We're frolicking in the water, we're trying to catch fish, we're sweltering, buying fans, letting our babies let it all hang out, and having our morning coffee out on the deck.

This weekend, at long last, Stillman got to meet his Auntie Marcel (Honorary). It was a meeting nine years in the making, and neither was disappointed. Marcel and her cousin Selena were here for less than 24 hours, but as always happens when Marcel visits, she not only brightened the place up with her company but cleaned up our kitchen, restocked our fridge and helped TLS with some other tasks that have been languishing. Thanks, A.M. (Hon.)!

Vanal and I continue to have adventures in the great outdoors. We tramped up to the top of the Glen Onoko hike on Saturday, in the sweltering heat. He scrambled like a little mountain goat, and is a great companion on such excursions. There's not much I won't let him do (unless it's extremely likely that he'll do himself in), and it was kind of funny to see passersby giving him warnings: "Careful, honey, those rocks are sharp"; "That's pretty steep for you, little guy. Why don't you come this way?" I'm a firm believer in letting kids sort these things out for themselves. If rocks are sharp on the bare feet, they'll feel that, right? And then next time make a decision about whether or not to tread upon such rocks?

There's a series of waterfalls along the hike, and we stopped for a snack and some cool refreshment beneath one of them.

There were other people at our lunch spot, and they warned Vanal against climbing underneath the falls because the rocks are slippery. So as you can see, I made him stay on dry land:

Yesterday, we went down to the Lehigh River to take a dip. There are two or three whitewater-rafting concessions in town, and we picked a spot along the river where the rafters come down through. We waded out into the current and Vanal had fun jumping off the rocks, trying to swim upstream, and just generally splashing around. The raftloads of paying customers were pretty surprised to see us out there in what seemed to them to be the middle of a wilderness splashing around in a fast river. One guy floating past asked us if we needed rescue -- he seemed bent on rescuing someone and was a bit disappointed when we told him we were just having a swim. We also threw a line in the water, but returned home fishless for the third time.

The place was a hit with Vanal, so we'll probably be returning to escape this afternoon's heat.

Family: Ah, To Be 7 Again

2008-06-06T09:00:00.004-04:00

Hanging out with Vanal has been a lot of fun, and quite refreshing. It's fascinating to be reminded of what it was like for me to be that age. Yet he's very different than I was when I was seven years old -- a lot like I always wished I could be when I was a kid. Just as an example, you can hand him some money and send him into a store to buy something, and he looks forward to that social interaction, the mere threat of which would have reduced me to tears at age 7. There's just no way you could have got me to do it.

His social boldness is nothing next to his physical daring. If there's some feat of derring-do he would be afraid to tackle, we haven't encountered it yet in our adventures. He rushes headlong into everything, injury be damned. His knees are battlefield maps, the front of his skull smooth and thick like a ballpeen hammer. When he gets hurt (approximately 17 times per day) he occasionally sniffles for a moment, but I've never seen it last more than a minute, and then he's racing around again.

When I was a kid, my brother and I used to build crude wooden boats out of old boards and float them down our brook. So last week Vanal and I built a couple boats and brought them up to the trout stream about a half mile from our house. He quite literally threw himself into it. He has a certain laugh that is genuine and irrepressible, so you know he's truly having fun. It comes from the back of his throat and it goes, "O-Ho!" I heard that a lot as he charged down the brook chasing his boat, splashing along, slipping off the rocks, banging himself up.

Our modest beginnings started a neighborhood boat-building craze that has only in the past few days tapered off. Vanal's social skills have been good for us here. We've been fairly isolated out here, just exchanging polite pleasantries with our neighbors, but now a whole tribe of local kids whoops around our yard each day, Vanal spends his afternoons playing across the street, and on two recent evenings, I loaded up a Jeepful of neighborhood boys to go up and test the boats we'd all built on our porch. Obviously this has meant getting to know their folks a bit better.

Last weekend we went fishing, and seeing Vanal experience it gave me more flashbacks to age 7. I spent a lot of time fishing with my brother and cousins when I was Vanal's age or a little bit older, and I loved it and hated it. Hated the way you'd look down at your reel to make an adjustment and by the time you looked up again, your line had gotten tangled around the end of your pole. Hated fishing for hours and not getting so much as a nibble. Hated all the untangling, and tying, and snagging and failure. But loved the overall activity, loved being out there and all the anticipation. Vanal and 7-year-old The Blogger are very much the same in that regard -- a bit too physical, a bit impulsive, a bit impatient (although he's quite a bit better than I was). So I had to feign outrage on the second fruitless day when he finally got sick of it and flung his pole. I probably would have done it halfway through the first day.

Other random notes:

- He's got this game, or toy, or fetish, or talisman, called "Bakugan," which is something to do with some cartoon or other, and which involves small plastic rosary-bead-sized objects which fold out into fighting creatures and which cost $5 a pop but are undoubtedly produced by children his age for 0.13 cents apiece somewhere in the world. There's also a magnetized card with numerals on it which apparently is to be used in conjunction with the collapsible bead-beast. I've finally convinced him that I am never, ever going to play this with him, since to the extent that there are rules, they are more esoteric than the U.S. tax code and only understood by 7-year-olds (who I suspect may be faking).

- One evening, 12-year-old neighbor Austin (who has a story for whatever subject is at hand, even if he has to come up with one impromptu) claimed that he had once really gotten into poison ivy and that he'd gotten it "in a very sensitive place." Vanal thought for a second and then, obviously pleased to have gotten the innuendo, exclaimed, "O-ho! I know exactly where you mean! I can see it right now!"

- He cheats at everything. When you teach him a game, he figures out the way to cheat just as soon as the basic rules settle into his brain. I taught him 20 Questions the other day in the car. When it was my turn to guess, I quickly figured out that he was thinking of a race car (Didn't take much, since race cars are his lifelong obsession). So I said, "Is it a car?" And he says, "Well, sort of. It's part car." I said, "Do you race with it?" He says, "Well, you can," as if we were talking about tractors or lawn mowers. Later I made him explain how a race car is only part car. "Well, you have to have a driver, don't you?"

- He was trying to explain something he'd seen on TV yesterday but was lacking a particular word to describe the genre. Said, "You know, it's on TV but it's not really a show." Took me a minute, but then I figured it out. He meant a reality show. Perfect.

- He counted the lines on my face the other day. Told me you could tell how old someone was by doing so, just the way you count rings on a tree. Apparently I'm 40.

Family: Recent Photos

2008-06-05T10:04:00.010-04:00

The Blogger and everyone here at Gesh's Globe would like to apologize for the lacuna.

Life with a six-week-old (as of today!) and a seven-year-old can be rather demanding on one's time. Much exciting stuff in the coming days here at the Globe. Meantime, please enjoy these photos.

Our rhododendrons have blossomed beautifully as predicted.

The Globe: Good News from Burma

2008-05-30T08:27:00.006-04:00

It's actually good news mixed with bad, but we'll take it.

The good news is that the junta has approved all pending visas for foreign aid workers, so finally the people in the isolated parts of the Irawaddy Delta should begin getting some help.

The bad news is that the regime is now using cyclone survivors as forced labor to do the clean-up and reconstruction.

Yet the intersection of these two pieces of news can only be a good thing. Burma is a country with a laundry list of ills, but forced labor has long been one of the regime's hallmarks. The fact that the generals are bold (or stupid, or desperate) enough to carry on with their old ways while the country is filled with foreign aid workers, and while the whole world looks on, may turn out to be a good thing.

In fact, if you were wondering why a regime would be so reluctant to let outsiders come help, you're now about to see the exact scenario the generals feared playing out. My fervent hope is that the international community and the press will stay on this story and continue to expose the brutality of the regime -- exactly as they have not done for the past 40-odd years, as this kind of forced labor has been a regular feature of life for ordinary citizens in the country.

Here are three accounts of forced labor as told to me by Burmese citizens who I interviewed last year. As you read them, bear in mind that forced labor is far from the problem with this regime; it is only one out of many. I will add posts in the future to help round out the picture of this dictatorship's profound insanity.

Sai Ba Htay
Interviwed at Mae Tao Clinic, Mae Sot, Thailand, 8 April 2007

I am from the northern part of Shan State, which is in the northeast of the country. I’m a member of the Shan ethnic group. I’m 28 years old.

I left Burma by myself. Why did I leave? Wow, there are so many reasons. Mostly economic. In Burma, you have to pay an incredible amount of taxes. My mother, my younger brother and I had a rice farm. The government would buy the rice from us, but at a ridiculously low price. It’s really impossible ever to make any money for yourself, because you have to give 75% of what you make to the government. That just leaves you with enough to survive. There’s no benefit at all to the farmer. This has been going on for a long time, but life inside Burma is becoming more and more difficult.

Sometimes you have to leave your own work to do forced labor for the government. It’s very organized. There’s a rotation system, and two kinds of forced labor. One is “formal” forced labor, where you are called once per year to help on construction projects and so on. The other is called “informal” forced labor, where you’re just called suddenly to come do work. I started getting called when I was 16 years old. I have had to go plant krow, an edible plant that the army sells to finance itself, and I’ve had to go into the forest to cut bamboo and build walls for a military base.

Your village will get called to do forced labor, and each village has a car – that they have to pay for – to carry workers to the project site. When you go to forced labor, you bring your own food. When you arrive, they say, “Okay, you have to complete this area. You can’t go home until it’s finished.” If you’re sick or weak and can’t go do the forced labor, you have to rent someone to go do it in your place. Sometimes the site is ten miles from your village, so if you get sick while the project is going on, you have to wait until it’s finished to go home and get treatment. They give you one hour per day to rest and eat the food you brought with you – then back to work.

The SPDC is very verbally abusive toward the workers, but I never saw anyone get beaten. They don’t have to beat you, though. You see their guns and you know what they’re capable of, so everyone tries very hard to please them. Sometimes they threaten to shoot you if you don’t work hard, and they actually fire their guns to scare you.

Maikhon Thein
Interviewed at Mae Tao Clinic, Mae Sot, Thailand, 8 April 2007

I am from a small village called Nam Sam. My parents are tea farmers there. In 1999,like many people in Burma, I was forced to porter for the SPDC for three days. When the SPDC is doing a construction project, or sometimes when troops are moving through the jungle, they force ordinary civilians to carry equipment or weapons for them. They made me carry guns. Each day we were given one handful of rice to eat. We had to walk with these loads all day in the heat, and if you didn’t keep up, you were in trouble.

A friend of mine went with me. He was too small to carry much, so the SPDC got angry with him and began hitting him hard on the head with the butts of their guns. He didn’t die, but he is crazy now. He lives in the street and eats strange things. He is not the person I used to know.

Forced portering has been happening for a long time in Burma. When I was small, my father portered for one month. On top of the loads they were forced to haul, they had to carry their own food. They were also forced to dig foxholes for soldiers. When he came home, he was very thin, and he started beating my mother. He never used to do that.

It is very, very sad, what is happening inside my country.

Kaun Caan Kaee, age 31
Interviewed in Mae Sot, Thailand, 13 April 2007

In my last year of high school, I was walking to the school, carrying my books, to take my final examinations. I came across a group of SPDC soldiers, more than I could count. I thought because I had my school uniform on, they wouldn’t stop me. But I was wrong. They captured me and forced me to carry heavy loads for them.

This happens a lot. The SPDC will come to a village and tell the head man, “We need 200 men to carry loads for us.” But the people know that this is happening, so all the men go and hide. Sometimes when the SPDC comes to a village and can’t find any men, they will capture women and children and hold them until men show themselves, for exchange. Once the men show up, the soldiers are angry, and they beat the men. This happened once to my father. Another time, when I was six or seven, my father was portering and he got sick of it and ran away. The soldiers caught him and severely beat him again.

There were other civilians forced to porter with me. There was one old man who had no energy. He couldn’t carry anything. I watched as one soldier stabbed him through the midsection, killing him with his bayonet. Later the soldier had to pay 3,000 kyat [about $450] in compensation to the old man’s family.

We went up into the mountains and stayed in villages. The villagers were good to us. They gave us really good rice to eat – but the soldiers took the good stuff the villagers had given us, and made us eat bad rice.

It was rice that the soldiers were making me carry. An enormous bag that probably weighed 50 kilos. And I only weigh 54 kilos! So when no one was looking, I cut a little hole in the bottom of the sack so that rice would leak out to lighten my load.

On the third day, we entered the village where my school was. My teacher saw me carrying rice for the army, and he went and talked to the soldiers. He told them I was a student who was supposed to be taking my examinations, so they let me go.

But that wasn’t the last time I had to porter.

Politics: FEMA Trailer Outrage

2008-05-28T08:56:00.002-04:00

The direct consequences of the Katrina disaster continue to play out in the lives of hundreds of American children, with health problems that will dog them for the rest of their days.

Remember the tens of thousands of plain white RV trailers ordered up by FEMA as temporary shelter for evacuees? Remember how anyone who believed there was something wrong with those trailers -- something that may have killed one man and seemed to be making children sick -- was dismissed for a time as a conspiracy theorist?

According to a story today by the Associated Press:

. . . [T]ens of thousands of youngsters . . . may face lifelong health problems because the temporary housing provided by the Federal Emergency Management Agency contained formaldehyde fumes up to five times the safe level.

For the record, other stories have put the number at up to 75 times the safe level.

Formaldehyde is a probable carcinogen. The children now are suffering from severe asthma, but experts fear that within 10-15 years, they will begin seeing cancers in these kids.

What's particularly disgusting about all this is the foot-dragging and cover-up that have gone on on the part of the government. According to emails that surfaced through a class-action lawsuit, FEMA knew of the health problems way back in 2006 but took no action -- not because they were lazy or ineffectual, but because they were callously neglectful:

On June 16, 2006, three months after reports of the hazards surfaced and a month after a trailer resident sued the agency, a FEMA logistics expert wrote that the agency's Office of General Counsel "has advised that we do not do testing, which would imply FEMA's ownership of this issue." A FEMA lawyer, Patrick Preston, wrote on June 15: "Do not initiate any testing until we give the O.K. . . . Once you get results and should they indicate some problem, the clock is running on our duty to respond to them." (Washington Post, July 19, 2007)

Once testing was conducted, it was rather baffling in its particulars:

A CDC study released May 8 examined records of 144 Mississippi children, some of whom lived in trailers and others who did not. But the study was confined to children who had at least one doctor's visit for respiratory illness before Katrina. It was largely inconclusive, finding children who went to doctors before the 2005 storm were still visiting them two years after. (AP, May 28, 2008)

Efforts to expedite the removal of these families from the toxic trailers only began in earnest this February.

Fourteen trailer manufacturers have been named in the lawsuit. The suit alleges that the manufacturers -- contracted by the government to produce 100,000 trailers ASAP -- may have cut corners. Formaldehyde is used in composite wood and plywood panels. Typically, during the manufacturing process the materials are baked and the formaldehyde is sealed in. At least one expert has suggested that perhaps this part of the process was truncated during the manufacture of these trailers, which, according to the lawsuit, sometimes were built in ten minutes flat.

What do the manufacturers have to say? According to MSNBC, a spokesperson for the Recreational Vehicle Industry Association . . . .

. . . [A]knowledged that the high heat and humidity in the Gulf Coast could increase the rate of formaldehyde "outgassing" from wood products trailers, but added that ventilation should quickly take care of any problem.

"You can get it to dissipate very easily if you just ventilate it," he said. "People may just need to be shown how to open the windows."

Yes, of course. We all know about those sub-human Gulf Coasters, not bright enough to crack a window when they're being choked by formaldehyde fumes.

As I sit and type this, a colorful string of Mardi Gras beads hangs here in my office just an arm's length away. It takes me back to a couple of days I spent in a FEMA trailer with a beautiful family who had lost everything and who were struggling to continue on with dignity. They were very brave, but occasionally the emotion broke through and they had to stop and regain their composure. They had chosen to stay on there in the trailer parked in front of their semi-gutted house, which had been flooded with nine feet of water. They were toiling away at stripping down their house to rebuild it. All the vegetation in the back yard had died, and they were burning out a tree stump. Their eight-year-old son, who whipped off his shoes and tromped around barefoot whenever he slipped out of sight of his mother, was fascinated by the burning stump, and spent hours "tending" it. After two days of hearing their story and getting to know them, my photographer and I pulled away in our rental car. In my rearview mirror I saw the barefoot boy running in the road behind us, motioning for me to stop. He came up to our windows and handed each of us a string of beads as a memento. We thanked him and continued on our way. In my rearview mirror I could see him standing in the road, barefoot, waving us off, as we turned off his street and continued past many more miles of devastation.

Family: Memorial Day Weekend

2008-05-27T08:48:00.008-04:00

Cousin Vanal arrived over the weekend, along with his Mom and Grandma Betty. Vanal and Stillman got along famously. Vanal was eager to interact with the Boy, and pitched right in with holding him, feeding him, and even changing diapers! Because Vanal and TLS have always been extremely close, we wondered how things would go. But Vanal was fantastic. The closest thing to any rivalry came when Stillman got an unusual amount of attention for having produced a rather spectacular bowel movement, upon which Vanal assured me that when he was a baby, he had done one that went not just up his lower back, as Stillman's had, but darned near up to his neck.

My other favorite Vanal quote this weekend came at a quiet moment when we were sitting together on the couch feeding the Boy. Vanal says, "He isn't very brown, is he?" Then he was quiet for a moment and looked over at me and said, as if thinking of it for the first time, "Are you brown?" So I guess it's true that kids really are blind to race, since Vanal is incredibly bright and never misses anything.

Blessed with beautiful weather, the whole gang took a stroll down into the village.

Then we dropped off Stillman and TLS so they could nap, and the rest of us continued up to Lehigh Gorge State Park and the beautiful Glen Onoko hike, which rises steeply up along a cascading stream. Grandma Betty impressed everyone by hoofing it up through some pretty tough terrain. We all had a blast, especially Vanal -- although you wouldn't know it by the photo below.

We descended down to the river, and Vanal and I spent nearly an hour working on our rock-skipping.
The gang left yesterday but will be back tomorrow. Mom and Grandma Betty will return to South Carolina and leave Vanal with us for two weeks. We've got lots of plans. Back to the gorge so we can make it all the way to the top next time. There's a tunnel where the train used to pass through a mountain, which we need to explore. There's a train store down in the village. Some excellent biking to be done down by the river. And, of course, the woods behind our house, to see if we can find any bear sign.

Baby: One-Month Photos

2008-05-27T08:27:00.005-04:00

Well, the greatly anticipated one-month photo shoot was far less spectacular than all the pre-press would have led you to expect. The shoot was done here in the vast Jim Thorpe offices, and the Boy was not so much in the mood, plus we had company. We never even squeezed off a shot of him solo, just a couple quick snaps of The Blogger and TLS holding him, with only the merest nod toward capturing the same poses as had been posted here a month ago (The plan had been to hold the same poses so that you the reader could, with scientific precision, track his zucchini-like growth over the past 30 days).

The Blogger promises great things come two-month.

Baby: A Month!

2008-05-23T13:04:00.003-04:00

Yep, Junior will be a month old tomorrow.

He went for his checkup today, and now weighs in at 11 pounds -- which means he's gained two pounds in two weeks (in a couple of days he'll have achieved my birth weight, which I try not to be too smug about with him). He's healthy in every way. Strong. Happy. We feel awfully lucky.

Tomorrow he will sit for his one-month photos, which will be posted here pronto, so stay tuned . . .

Also, Cousin Vanal will be arriving tomorrow, the first relative Stillman gets to meet from his mother's side. Vanal will be with us for a few days, go back home to South Carolina, then return next weekend to spend a whole two weeks with us. The Blogger is very much looking forward to getting Vanal out onto the local hiking trails. Many adventures await . . . .

Family: Cheers for my Father

2008-05-22T09:37:00.005-04:00

Congratulations to my father, Dale, on the publication of his book Hopkinton: The Second Hundred Years. It's the history of the small town in the northernmost tip of New York state where he grew up, and just a few miles from where he still lives today.

The book is finally in print, the culmination of many years of loving effort, somehow fit in between raising six kids, teaching high school, working a small farm and holding various leadership positions in his church. I only hope I can manage the same kind of balance in my life, and pass on to my son the love of the written word that was such a huge part of growing up in my father's household.

We're all very proud of you, Dad. Can't wait to get a copy in my hands!

Music: The Pop List

2008-05-20T18:57:00.005-04:00

Thanks to everyone who contributed to the discussion regarding the perfect pop song. Your suggestions were wide-ranging and fun, and you exposed me to a lot of new stuff.

There were several of your suggestions that I didn't agree with, but that's part of what made this so much fun. For anyone who cares, my top picks among your suggestions were "Come Dancing," "Every Little Thing She Does is Magic," and "Something So Strong" (a song I didn't realize I liked as much as I apparently do until it came up in this context).

I know some of you must have been sleepless with anticipation, but here's the song I've been holding in reserve: "Faith" by George Michael. Surprise! But come on, you know you like it, too.

Or if you don't know that yet, go to the ultimate pop playlist which you helped create, and check it out (Sorry I wasn't able to get all of your suggestions on there, but I did my best).

Enjoy!

Economy: Confessions of a Subprime Rock Star

2008-05-20T09:53:00.002-04:00

For anyone who's wondering just who these people are who were responsible for the subprime meltdown, check out this brief piece from June's GQ magazine. Magazine/sausage-making analogies aside, I think there's enough truth here to be instructive:

I was a Subprime Rock Star
-> The story of Glen Pizzolorusso, who had everything and lost it all. As told to Alex Blumberg

I was working at WMC Mortgage buying subprime loans from mortgage brokers. We'd package loans into big pools and sell them to Wall Street: Bear Stearns, Lehman Brothers, Merrill Lynch. We were doing about $3 billion a month, and you know, we were making about 5 percent of that, so you do the math. I personally was making between 75 and a hundred grand a month.

I was 25, 26 years old. I had five cars: a couple of Mercedeses and Porsche. I had a family house in suburban Connecticut, a penthouse on East 70th Street, and a house I'd built on the water in Fairfield, Connecticut. We're going out, spending five grand at dinner, five grand at the club afterward, you know, a couple of times a week. I remember this one night, we went out to Tao, four of us. Tao is one of the most exclusive restaurants in the city. It was in Sex and the City. So we go to Tao and we're sitting next to Tara Reid and a couple of her friends. On one side of us are a bunch of players from the Yankees, on the other side players from the Red Sox. Everyone's friends. All talking to each other.

Then we go out to Marquee, a club, another of my stomping grounds. Rolled up -- there's a line of 500 people outside -- walked right up to the door, said to the doorman, Give me my table. Get inside, order three or four bottles of Cristal, a thousand bucks a bottle. Christina Aguilera is doing some I'm-Christina-Aguilera-and-I'm-gonna-get-up-and-sing kind of thing. Cuba Gooding Jr. is there with that kid from Filthy Rich: Cattle Drive. I had a great time. You know? I was a rock star. At the same time, I also realize how stupid it was. Why would anyone spend $1,000 for a bottle of champagne to impress people in a club?

I think I noticed things were changing when I got my first paycheck for $25,000 for the month. I know it sounds obscene, but I'm sitting there thinking, I just made more than most people make in six months, and it doesn't even cover my expenses.

You could just feel it winding down. And it was scary. So I sold the cars. Got rid of the penthouse, sold the house in Fairfield, which totally sucked. I bought it for like $1.375 million. I put down like 10 percent, and I dumped probably another $250,000 into it. And then when I sold it, I had to come to the closing with an additional $35,000 just to sell the stupid thing. Just to get rid of those payments. It was unbelievable.

The rest of the piece consists of boo-hoo, I really learned my lesson.

My heart bleeds for you, rock star.

Meanwhile, drought in Ethiopia. 125,000 kids already suffering from malnutrition. Gee, if only there were more money in the world. But alas, there's just not enough to go around.

Baby: Boy Bathes, Boxes

2008-05-18T18:36:00.008-04:00

The Boy's belly-button chip got drier and nastier and finally fell off -- or to be more accurate, we found it stuck to his undershirt -- a couple of days ago. That meant we could finally bathe the lad, which is something I'd been really looking forward to.

He took to it quite well. We thought there would be screams or at least some general form of protest, but as you see by the photo below, while he didn't exactly have his guard down, he remained open-minded about the experience. And he has agreed that bathing might as well become a fairly regular part of his future.

Do you see how he's got his hands up in perfect self-defense posture? I don't want to be one of those dads, but I know a future middleweight when I see one. So I've started giving him lessons (Lesson one had to do with putting on your game face and psyching out your opponent). Below is a rapid-fire sequence of him swinging his first real punch. Tell me the boy isn't a quick learner.

Entertainment: CGI Can't Take it Anymore (Updates I and II below)

2008-05-18T10:18:00.008-04:00

Being of a certain age, TLS and I were both excited at the prospect of the new Indiana Jones movie -- until we saw the trailer on TV. When the frenetic 15 seconds of fast takes and blurry action clips had ended, we looked at each other and said, "Oh. Well, forget about it, then."

Why? CGI. Computer-Generated Idiocy.

Not only have I come to loathe it, I am, frankly, baffled by it. Why in the world does it hold such appeal, both for filmgoers and for filmmakers? It is enormously expensive for directors to use, yet they persist in it as though it were the one thing that can guarantee their movie's quality or its success at the box office.

I know filmmaking is a business, but I like to pretend it's not. I like to pretend it's about creating an aesthetic experience. So I won't pursue any economic argument against CGI, and will limit myself to the following question: Does the use of CGI make for a better moviegoing experience?

One of the things you often hear said on this subject is, "With computers, you can create any reality you want. You can do ANYTHING." Which, to my mind, is one half of the argument against it. Movies, of course, have always been about fantasy, about creating new worlds or portraying unlikely scenarios in this one. Yet in order for all of that to succeed, real limits -- laws of physics, basic reflections of reality -- have to obtain. Otherwise, the spell is broken.

And lately Hollywood seems intent on breaking its own spell. Remember the thrill of seeing those magnificent set pieces in old historical epics with their casts of thousands? Compare that experience to the battle scenes in "Troy" or the "Lord of the Rings" series. Ho-hum. Your brain knows what you're seeing. Otherwise how could TLS and I have known, given the fraction-of-a-second takes we were offered in the Indiana Jones preview, that we were seeing computer work instead of the real deal? (I'm still not sure what I even saw in that preview, but I can tell you with 100 percent certainty that it was CGI). I think that in the not-too-distant future, people will look back on this age of digital special effects with the same campy nostalgia that we look back now on 1950s monster movies and those old Sinbad the Sailor flicks with their claymation horrors.

The problem with CGI, just like with claymation, is that it leaves its fingerprints all over the screen. When an actual stunt man used to jump off a building, your mind registered, "There goes that actor, or somebody dressed just like him, jumping off a building." With CGI, a part of your brain stops the flow of the story and says, "They did a nice job with the special effects here." But "a nice job" is never a good enough job, because it inevitably leaves out little details, whether it's the wind in the hair or the play of light on the leather jacket, enough to cue you in on the nature of the effects.

So what, then, is the point of CGI? Oh, that's right. With CGI you can do ANYTHING.

All right. So now not only does the character jump off the building, but he lands on his feet, unhurt. At this point, not one but two things have gone awry in the viewer's mind: Not only were the little details wrong (wind in the hair, play of light) but so is the whole upshot of the scene ("That could never happen."). Thus CGI does itself a *double* disservice: It offers up outlandish scenarios, then calls attention to their outlandishness by getting the details wrong.

You may be thinking, "Yes, but digital effects are getting better and better all the time, and once they're perfected, they won't get the little details wrong anymore." To that, I say, "Fine. Then go off and perfect them somewhere, but until they're ready, stop ruining my moviegoing experience with them."

Yet getting the details wrong is only half the problem. An over-reliance on digital effects is eroding filmmakers' narrative judgment as well.

In the old days, we had outlandish scenarios, but filmmakers allowed us to suspend our disbelief by cutting away, by leaving something to the imagination. To stick with Indiana Jones for an example, in "The Last Crusade," when we see the tank go over the cliff with Indy presumably still on it, the filmmakers cut away at the last second and then, from afar, we see the tank fall into the canyon. If that scene had been shot today instead of 19 years ago, I'm pretty sure we'd have stayed with Indy all the way over the precipice, blurry CGI backgrounds and all, to try to milk every last thrill out of the scene. From a narrative point of view, it would have accomplished nothing: It would have just explained exactly how Indy survived the incident, rather than allowing for the (however unlikely) possibility that our hero had died. As hokey as the scene was in the 1987 original, at least the That-Could-Never-Happen reaction was not quite so immediate. Why not? Because it's left up to you, the viewer, to construct the details of how Jones might have survived the fall after you see him come struggling up the cliffside roots ("Well, maybe he jumped off just before the tank went over the edge and caught that root; or maybe . . . ."). In the world of digital effects, such considerations -- essential to effective storytelling -- are made obsolete: "This, viewer, is exactly how it happened; except of course it could never happen that way, as you can see by the fact that the visual details of this scene are out of whack with what you know to be reality."

Thus, CGI fails in its basic promise, that which supposedly justifies its existence: instead of offering us ever more fertile narrative possibilities, digital effects rob us of them.

Please, directors. Rent a couple of helicopters. Hire a thousand extras. Blow up car or two. Feel free to treat me like I'm willfully gullible, just not like I'm stupid.

* * *

UPDATE I:

A quick amendment to this post. Yesterday at Cannes, Spielberg was holding court with journalists and made a couple of relevant comments (from Andrew O'Heir on Salon):

The secret of the Jones movies, he said, was to "shoot a compact and economically told story ... and do it with real stunts and real people. We don't say we'll go and make the most amazing chase scene ever. We ask what the story demands and how we can make that funny and exciting."

Fair enough, and even in its inflated and creaky fourth incarnation, the Indy series retains a certain unassuming quality, at least compared to Hollywood's recent monstrous productions. Ford is rarely called upon to run more than a few steps, but he's a capable and athletic 65-year-old star who performs his own stunts. Until the film's ludicrous conclusion, which involves a big spinning hoobledy-whatsit full of supernatural thingummies (I think that's officially not a spoiler), there are relatively few digital effects. As Spielberg put it: "There's no inspiration when the director and actors walk onto the set and it's nothing but a blue screen. I wanted to be in all these wonderful booby-trap sets, which are built nearly to the scale you see on-screen, and get my ideas for great shots from the sets themselves."

So perhaps there's hope after all. Yet if it's true, one really has to shake one's head in disgust to think that whoever produced the film's trailer saw fit to include the "relatively few" digital effects as a selling point to the masses.

* * *

Update II:

In Comments, Tim and Tierney mention CGI-intensive films that they like. I have to say that digital effects have their place; I just wish directors didn't currently think that that place was everywhere.

Regarding Tim's point about "Ratatouille," I have to share my observation that when it comes to animation, CGI seems to serve the exact opposite purpose it has in most live-action film: It brings the fantastical closer to reality, rather than vice versa. Thus the animated Parisian skyline gets digitally enhanced to look more like the real Parisian skyline. So the digital effects aren't working to plunge the everyday further into the fantastical, but to elevate the fantastical back toward the everyday. Having plumbed the vast reservoirs of his wisdom, The Blogger (who, perhaps predictably, pines for the supple textures of the old hand-drawn cartoon features) will issue this pronouncement regarding the role of CGI in animation: Sometimes it's a good thing; sometimes it ain't.

The Globe: Burma (Updated Below)

2008-05-16T16:14:00.006-04:00

There's not a whole lot to be said at this point about the hell that is playing out in Burma. If you've been following the story, you know that the death toll is likely to reach 130,000. You know that millions of residents are, as we speak, begging for food, stranded, and watching their loved ones succumbing to disease and starvation. And you know that only a tiny fraction of international aid is making it in to the people (and that there have been reports of military units stealing a lot of it) -- because the military government is doing a heckuva job all by itself.

Nothing quite summarizes the junta's disgraceful role in all of this better than the following two sentences:

"We have already finished our first phase of emergency relief. We are going onto the second phase, the rebuilding stage," state television quoted Prime Minister Thein Sein as telling his Thai counterpart this week.

Underlining where its main attentions lie, the junta this week announced an overwhelming vote in favor of an army-backed constitution in a referendum held on May 10 despite calls for a delay in the light of the disaster.

* * *

UPDATE:

I wanted to respond in the main part of this post to Virginia's comment about China rather than keeping it to the comments section. She said:

"The crazy thing is that the situation in Burma makes China looks like a good guy. Reporters are traveling around there, citizens are speaking to them, some of them even have the balls to say that their government isn't doing enough. Aid and supplies are reaching people, soldiers are digging families out of the rubble - some things are happening the way they should in some parts of the provinces affected."

Very true, especially the "crazy" part. The contrast between the relief efforts in the two countries masks a very, very important irony: To a great degree, the Myanmar junta owes its hold on power to China. When I interviewed the UN's Special Envoy to Myanmar, Ibrahim Gambari, I kept pressing him on why the international community couldn't gain more traction in pressuring the dictatorship. He, of course, is an accomplished diplomat and thus would never come out and state that China is the biggest obstacle to progress in Burma, but again and again, the conversation came back around to China. Whenever the UN Security Council tries to pass a resolution against the junta, China is there to block it. Why? Of course you know: Money. Trade. Energy.

[Of course the rise of China also ties into much else that has been discussed on this blog, regarding the economy -- and to much which hasn't, including the genocide in the Sudan. But that's a post for another day].

And what is the latest news on the struggle to get aid to the people of Burma?

China Backs Myanmar in Resisting Demands to Take Aid
By Demian McLean
May 17 (Bloomberg) -- China is backing Myanmar as it resists pressure from the U.S. and other nations to admit more relief workers and supplies to help as many as 2.5 million cyclone victims at risk of disease and hunger.
Other countries must show ``due respect'' to Myanmar, said Wang Baodong, a spokesman for the Chinese Embassy in Washington, at a briefing yesterday. ``Myanmar is a sovereign country. In the end, rescue and relief work will have to rely on the Myanmar government and people.''

So the really disgusting thing is that, with its history of keeping the people of Burma poor and oppressed to satisfy its own rapacious capitalism (China is communist in government, capitalist in economy), China gets credit for taking care of its own people -- while supporting the Myanmar junta in its decision to refuse outside aid.

Oh, and of course China itself is accepting international aid to deal with its earthquake.

Family: Miscellaneous (with photos)

2008-05-14T21:18:00.008-04:00

The presses are back up and running at Gesh's Globe, now that the pace of things has slowed down slightly here in the vast Jim Thorpe offices. The Blogger is still, would you believe it, toiling away at another phase of that project that looked to be done last week. But I assure you that very soon The Globe will regain its near-daily status, and the content will be more scintillating than ever.

Many topics to catch up on:

I. An impromptu family visit. Young Stillman got to make the acquaintance of a few more relatives when they suddenly descended upon the house earlier in the week. Grandma Burnett and Great Uncle Al came down from the north; Aunt Lue and Cousin Lauren came from the south; and then, the very same day, they were gone. Stillman seemed to like them.

Aunt Lue was only here for a couple of hours, so she wasted no time in hypnotizing the Boy and muttering phrases like "favorite aunt" and "never mind those others," and so on. I just thought it would be fair to disclose that, in case any other aunts are serious enough about this to make a trek down here and do what they can toward winning him over.

Lauren is the first cousin he had the honor of meeting. They seemed to hit it off quite well. She, of course, has a way with children and will no doubt be a big part of his life.

The Boy was happy to see his Grandma Burnett again, and proved it by peeing on her while she was changing him. Kind of for old times' sake.
There was a quiet understanding between Stillman and his Great Uncle Al. Neither said much, just enjoyed a companionable silence, apparently quite comfortable in each other's company. I hope the Boy gets to spend as much time with his uncle as I did. He can learn a lot from a man like that.

II. Follow-ups to a couple of posts.

My post regarding the perfect pop song prompted a lot of discussion, and lots of song nominations. I'm eager to track them all down and sample them. And I'd love to hear from more of you. As I mentioned in the Comments section, I think it would be great to compile the best of the best into one playlist which we could use to rule the world. Molly, I'm glad "Fati Mata" is growing on you. After your first post, I was going to suggest you turn it up. Maybe that's what you did. Tierney, I knew you'd have nominees, and you didn't disappoint. And Gilly's Son. For all of you who might have missed it, please, please go to Gilly's Son's comment and follow the link. It will make you a better person.

Prepare yourselves in the coming days for stunning follow-ups to "Great Depression: The Sequel" and, yes, "Economy: An Epidemic of Entitlement."

And, sadly, there is still much to write on Burma, and now China.

III. Bears. This is what my garbage looked like this morning:

Neighbor lady says she saw the bear come down and do it last night, and that this particular Slewfoot is enormous. She says 500 pounds. Her five-year-old grandson estimates it at four pounds; I'm guessing it's somewhere between the two. Not sure how I missed it last night, but I'm sorely disappointed. Tonight is trash night, when the bears usually come down to nose around, so I'll keep an ear out. I hope one of these days to have a nice picture of the animal and not just the animal's good works.

IV. Baby!

Our boy. We are in bliss. Pure bliss. We both feel like we're in a dream. He's becoming a little person. He's got likes and dislikes. Habits. To wit,

He LOATHES being restricted. He put up with swaddling for a few post-partum days, and then that was it. This evening we were heading for a stroll, so we put him into a harness so I could carry him on my chest. No, sir. He howled and screamed like we were murdering him. This preference for freedom of movement goes a long way toward explaining the extravagances he performed while still in the womb.

He burps like a man. Or like a trucker, as TLS puts it. I'm serious. A few of you have heard this over the phone and can vouch for it.

Today, he peed in his own ear while I was changing him. He didn't seem to mind much. He does this sort of thing with some frequency.

He and I have developed a routine of dancing together after supper, and he quite enjoys it. Even if he's fussy, if I turn on some music and start dancing with him, he goes calm and limp and just lies back and savors it. I can't think of anything I've ever enjoyed more than bopping around the living room while my son stares up at me with those big soft eyes of his.

And, best of all, he's smiling! Not gas smiles. Actual, like, "Hi, Mom!" kind of smiles. We weren't sure at first, but we studied it throughout the day and determined that that's what's going on.

I have photographic evidence . . . . .

The Globe: Burma Update

2008-05-10T15:29:00.004-04:00

So, true to form, the "Myanmar" government has seized aid shipments, refused international help, killed 36 rioting prisoners, and focused on its laughable constitutional referendum to the neglect of the general unraveling that's taking place as people run out of food and water and the thousands of rotting corpses begin contaminating water supplies. One international humanitarian official says the real effects of this cyclone are yet to be felt, and will undoubtedly spread beyond Burma's borders.

But hey, at least now nobody can say the country didn't vote for its constitution, right?

My friend Tun Tun, who is from Rangoon but is now living just across the border in Thailand (and who was once temporarily "disappeared" and interrogated for a month) has been in touch with family members in the cyclone-affected area. He sent me photographs which I will not post here -- suffice it to say that there are bodies everywhere. He reports that there is no electricity and that people are out of rice and water; the price of rice has doubled, that of water tripled. Instead of delivering aid, members of the SPDC (the government's Orwellian name for its army: State Peace and Development Council) stood in the streets intimidating people to vote -- and vote Yes!

When I was a child, I believed in evil as something inherent; as a young man I ceased to believe in it at all; now I believe it is a contagion that passes from person to person, that comes and goes and snowballs and multiplies itself and then fades. Sometimes it concentrates heavily in certain people and places, but it is impermanent and seldom absolute. A cloud of it seems to have settled over Burma. I am speaking metaphorically, but not by much.

Music: The Perfect Pop Song?

2008-05-10T14:43:00.006-04:00

So the Boy and I were doing some dishes, and grooving on some fine African sounds while we worked. And I got to thinking. Couple of weeks ago, VH1 was doing one of their tried-and-true nostalgia/countdown shows -- you know, where clever/hip/ironic C-listers give their two cents about the songs, videos and artists. I don't recall what this particular show was about, but one of the videos that came on was Wham!'s song "Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go." One of the talking heads opined that this was "the perfect pop song." She didn't elaborate.

But I began to wonder. What elements would the perfect pop song have to have? I came up with a list of three elements, with which you may or may not agree:

1. It has to be catchy and easy, with a melody that seems familiar and yet is fresh and original. This is tricky -- the perfect pop song, when stuck in your head, does not drive you to madness (See "Achey-Breaky Heart," "That'll Be the Day," "Mickey," etc.).

2. It can't be about anything much, lyrics-wise. No politics, no doom, no gloom, no Cats in the Cradle, Bricks in the Wall, &c. This is tricky, too -- it can't be utter nonsense (See "Stand" by R.E.M., "Mmm-Bop" by Hanson, "Hey-Ya" by Outkast).

3. Because of the combination of elements 1 and 2, it withstands repeat listenings, for years and even decades. There are plenty of truly great songs which I pray never to hear again before I go to my grave ("American Pie," "Old Time Rock 'N Roll," and pretty much whatever else is playing on your local classic rock station).

So what's my choice for the perfect pop song? Well, it isn't "Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go." Not that there's anything wrong with that.

My pick is a song you've never heard before called "Fati Mata" by this guy Sam Mangwana, a Congolese superstar and one of the old masters of a musical style called soukous. I know what you're thinking -- The Blogger is being deliberately obscure, perhaps seeking to impress with his globalist tastes. I swear I'm not (I have a more mainstream runner-up, which I'm going to hold in reserve).

So why Fati Mata? It fits my three elements. Groovy without seeming like a fever dream, innocuous in content ("Your kind of love/It ain't pretty/It ain't nice"), and it's got legs. I've had it in rotation in my music collection since the mid-90s and am not sick of it yet. In fact, it still lifts my spirits when it comes on. I could listen to it all day.

Give it a listen and tell me what you think of my choice. Then tell me your pick for the perfect pop song, along with the reasoning behind your selection.

Family: Weekend Visit

2008-05-08T23:44:00.004-04:00

Grandma Burnett spent the first out-of-hospital week with us. It sure was a joy to have her around -- not just because she baked bread every day, or took plenty of turns changing diapers, or saw to it that neither dirty dish nor crumby floor ever besmirched our kitchen on her watch, but because her company is such a pleasure. We got her addicted to Ninja Warrior, as I had long suspected we might. She explored the wooded hills behind our house where dwell the black bears who raid my garbage barrel. She borrowed my mountain bike and went charging up the streamside trail. We did a little exploring by Jeep. She was great company for The Lovely Sophia, and she got some good hang time with the Boy. We were very sorry to see her leave.

The nice thing was that Grandpa Burnett, Aunt Chrissy, and Great Aunt Di came to pick her up over the weekend. On Sunday evening we all gathered around our bed, sprawling-family style, some kneeling, some seated, looking at old photos, reminiscing, visiting, and opening gifts brought from home (Thanks, gift givers! You haven't heard the last of us). It was the pleasantist time I've had in ages. We even ate black-raspberry ice cream cones.

Great Aunt Di ratchets up the favorite-aunt competition.

Grandpa Burnett almost loses some fingers.

Baby/Housekeeping: Apologies and Photos

2008-05-08T23:22:00.006-04:00

The Blogger would like to apologize to his loyal readers for what must seem from the outside to be a lull in the action. In truth, things are really hoppin' at Gesh's Globe. The Blogger's fecund intellect continues to teem with all manner of subject matter, none of which is to be entrusted to the interns, analysts and researchers who flutter busily about the grand Jim Thorpe office suites.

Monday morning, the Blogger faced a mountain of 50 interviews -- some of them approaching 40 minutes in length -- that needed to be transcribed by the end of the week. He has been transcribing like a madman at all hours of the day and night trying to meet this deadline, with scarcely time to coddle his Boy, let alone adequately oversee the editorial functions here at the Globe. You will be happy to know that as of this posting, he has halved the pile of interviews and is on his way to making an adjusted Monday morning deadline, after which time both life and the editorial calendar of Gesh's Globe ought to return to normal.

Meantime, photos of the Boy:

Now, I ask you, in all modesty: Does that look like a two-week-old kid to you?

The Globe: Burma Cyclone

2008-05-07T20:16:00.003-04:00

The Blogger is currently overwhelmed by an assignment and will be toiling all through this night and probably the next couple, trying to earn diaper and formula money. But I did want to point your attention to the disaster currently unfolding in Burma, a country close to my heart.

A cyclone ripped through on Saturday, and the international community now fears that the death toll will reach 100,000 -- a massive, massive calamity in a country of 50 million. The catastrophe included a tsunami-like wave that floored low-lying areas and swept boats and houses and people out to sea.

I was in Burma about a year ago to report on the litany of human-rights abuses the country's people have suffered under 40 years of brutal military dictatorship. I met with former political prisoners, ex-child soldiers, internally displaced people, landmine amputees, refugees to Thailand, rebel soldiers and underground aid workers. The stories they told me are heartbreaking and unforgettable and, sadly, quite typical (I will be posting them here in the near future). Now it is likely that the coming months will see famine added to the people's woes; the cyclone appears to have devastated the rice-growing region that feeds the country.

So far, the military dictatorship has gotten low marks for its response to the disaster, and appears to be more concerned with clinging onto power when it holds its kangaroo constitutional referendum on Saturday. Already some dissident groups and geopolitical observers are speculating hopefully that this disaster will finally topple the government. But I think that's unlikely (Wasn't the post-Katrina fiasco supposed to be the undoing of the Bush Administration?). Instead, the very vulnerable people will go on suffering and the junta will have the cyclone as cover and distraction when it finalizes a constitution that was never meant to do anything but solidify the generals' power over the beleaguered, weary, and now storm-shocked masses.

For those considering making a donation, the Red Cross is always a good place to start.

The Globe: Great Baby Plunge

2008-05-02T16:42:00.002-04:00

At a Muslim shrine in western India, babies are dropped 50 feet for good luck.

Check out the video (thanks, North!).

I can't spend much time on this post, because I've got to get up to the roof with Stillman and a bath towel before The Lovely Sophia arises from her siesta.

Economy: Great Depression, The Sequel

2008-05-02T09:51:00.002-04:00

An interesting thing has been happening lately: Sober people have begun using the phrase "since the Great Depression" with surprising frequency. As in, "X economic marker hasn't looked like this since the Great Depression."

Americans' personal savings? Lowest rate since the Great Depression.

Housing slump? Worst since the Great Depression.

Proposed overhaul of Wall Street practices? Most sweeping since the Great Depression.

This recession we're in? Predicted by some to be the worst since the Great Depression.

Mortgage crisis? Worst financial shock since the Great Depression.

Are we actually heading toward a sequel to the Great Depression? I'm obviously not qualified to say, but the possibility is at least being talked about in polite circles.

So what I've been wondering about is this: If we were to enter another depression, what would it look like? The world has changed a lot since the 1930s. Even people living in poverty tend to have big-screen TVs, iPods and decent computers. It's hard to imagine that a 21st-Century depression, in its physical particulars, would look much like the 1930s depression did.

We've been baking bread lately. No, not for purely economic reasons -- The Lovely Sophia can't get Jamaican hard dough bread out here in PA so we've been baking our own -- but it is much cheaper than buying store-bought bread. In a new depression, will people bake their own bread? Will restaurants fail? Will we begin seeing mostly older cars on the road as the depression wears on and people stop buying new ones? Will styles and fashions change to reflect the new economic reality?

I'm interested in your thoughts. Tell me what you would imagine a new great depression to look like.

Politics: An Old Outrage Revisited

2008-05-01T09:39:00.003-04:00

If you rely on network television for your news, chances are you've missed a hugely important story recently which goes a long way toward explaining how we ended up in Iraq.

Last Sunday, the New York Times published an expose implicating the Pentagon and several news outlets in what amounted to a brazen propaganda campaign in the run-up to the Iraq war. Specifically, the so-called "independent military analysts" -- those familiar high-ranking ex-generals who appeared to be giving their objective point of view on the invasion -- were not independent at all but rather had significant ties to pro-war political groups and/or defense contracting companies and were part of a well designed propagandistic "Pentagon information apparatus." The news outlets who hired them either failed to do due diligence in discovering those ties, or knew about them and ignored them (Most likely the latter, since at least one magazine uncovered those ties and asked NBC News for comment back in 2002).

Lest this be dismissed as wild conspiracy theory, you should know that there is a Congressional inquiry under way and that the Pentagon has suspended its program since the story broke.

So why haven't you heard anything about it? Because the news networks have effectively blacked the story out. They refuse to cover a story of such national signficance because it involves gross malpractice on their part.

I highly recommend this post from Glenn Greenwald's blog, which goes further than the New York Times in detailing the conflicts of interest of some of the generals, and which offers great examples of the pro-war chatter offered up by these "analysts" as the Iraq war began to unfold.

The following facts may seem obvious, but I think they're worth pointing out in the light of this controversy.

1. The role of the media is, ideally, to speak truth to power, to hold the decision-makers accountable, to make government transparent to its citizens. The press freedoms enshrined in the 1st Amendment derive from democracy's need for an informed citizenry, and the public airwaves are lent by the American people to private companies with the understanding that those companies will provide a public service in exchange (rather than using them for exclusively commercial gain). The free press ought to function in an adversarial role, asking the questions that keep government officials honest. When instead they simply echo the government's lines and become war cheerleaders without asking hard questions, they undermine democracy. They may spout the party line because of conflicts of interest (see NBC/General Electric/war profiteering) or simply because of cowardice -- an unwillingness to appear unpatriotic during wartime -- but the effect is the same: they fail, utterly, to protect your interests.

2. The myriad failures of our free press before and during the Iraq war are amply documented.

3. We are in a very troubling place. Take a step back and look at the situation: As the Bush Administration banged the war drum, the press jumped onto the bandwagon almost wholesale. The media (the Fourth Estate, which supposedly represents "the mob") was the last best defense to puncture the government's shifting rationales and divert us from a war that has now left thousands dead and millions displaced. Instead, its talking heads blithely and admiringly chit-chatted with government propagandists on air, cheerleading the way to war. Now it refuses to so much as acknowledge this reprehensible conduct. And we live in an era in which their behavior has become so normalized as not to raise an eyebrow. They will not be held accountable because there is virtually no public expectation for them to be adversarial. To the contrary, when they are, they are pilloried and taken off the air for expressing unpatriotic views.

Irrespective of your political affiliation, you ought to find this state of affairs deeply unsettling, especially as we move toward an election in which a major candidate has expressed -- sometimes in song -- his hawkish tendencies toward Iran.

Baby: Photos Trickle In II

2008-05-01T00:05:00.008-04:00

Stillman acquaints himself with Aunt Chrissy, who has a reputation for being an extraordinarily popular aunt:

Mother and child resting up after some extremely difficult toil:

The Papa could use some sleep:

Those are eyes in there:

I now know why some people say "bundle of joy" and mean it:

Baby: Photos Trickle In

2008-04-30T23:50:00.003-04:00

There has been unprecedented demand for photographs of Stillman Burnett, and he has asked me to communicate to his public that his people are experiencing some technical difficulties. Until these issues are resolved, he asks that you content yourselves with this image of him doing what he does best.

The Globe: A Stroll for Madmen

2008-04-29T22:44:00.002-04:00

Brother North pointed me toward this crazy video of a reeling hike along a treacherous, crumbling pathway built into high cliffs in Spain.

Watch it first, then let me know if you'll be joining us for the excursion.

Baby: My Child Sucks!

2008-04-29T21:20:00.002-04:00

Young Stillman has only a few passions in life, and foremost among them is sucking. He can suck anything, and will. Human nipple? Loves it. His own fist? Please -- he was sucking that before he was even born. Rubber nipple? Bring it on, any brand you like. 50 times a day. A hundred. The lad could draw milk out of a sparkplug.

He has a similar zeal for burping. We're all, "Maybe we should burp him now that he's eaten," and he immediately lets one rip. On Sunday we took to whispering the word "burp," but he quickly got wise to that and so yesterday we began spelling it, but he's already figured that out, too. In fact, I've just noticed that each time I type the word "burp," an airy, gurgly sound comes from the next room.

Yes, I'm proud of my boy. He only does a few things, but he does them well.

Don't even get me started on the pooping. Oh, yes, I'm sure your child was an excellent pooper, yadda yadda whatever whatever. But I also know a champ when I see one.

Photos of all this to come in a day or so, once work catch-up slows to manageable.

Baby: Stillman Meets his Family

2008-04-26T17:43:00.005-04:00

Grandpa and Grandma and Aunt Chrissy Burnett were here today, so Stillman got the chance to meet some family members. Unfortunately, certain of the photos still won't upload, so I can't show Stillman's close-up or his portrait with Aunt Chrissy.

But here he is with Grandpa . . .

. . . with Grandma . . .

. . . and with immediate family:

Baby: Baby!

2008-04-26T13:49:00.002-04:00

So maybe there is something to this nesting idea after all.

Sophia went into labor on her due date, at around 10:00 p.m. After a grueling, complicated 15-hour labor, the doctors performed a C-section and lifted out our new son, Stillman Joseph Burnett, 8 lbs 4.5 ounces, 20 inches in length, full head of black hair. Sophia is doing just fine, and absolutely amazed me with her strength and endurance during all those hours of pain.

I'm writing this from the hospital, and the wireless signal is too weak to allow me to upload photos. We're headed home tomorrow morning, and I'll put some up. I'll also collect my thoughts so that I have something to say besides, "It was really something." Right now I'm still pretty overwhelmed by the power of the experience.

Baby: No Baby

2008-04-23T19:47:00.001-04:00

So much for nesting.

What Were They Thinking: God-Awful Sign

2008-04-23T17:31:00.005-04:00

Apparently one of our local churches hired an ad agency whose motto is, "Anything to sell a product; bad taste is our specialty!"

You know it's bad when even I'm offended:

Politics: Clinton takes PA

2008-04-23T07:25:00.005-04:00

If only, if only, if only.

If only Obama could have pulled off PA, then this once-historic, now historically grueling, primary season would be over. Instead, despite a serious cash problem, Clinton will slog ahead to the May 6 contests in North Carolina and Indiana. North Carolina is the last remaining big prize in the race -- and both camps are predicting Obama will win it. He's outspending her there already, by wide margins. She's out of money, and there just aren't enough delegates left up for grabs for her to seize victory.

Weeks ago I supported Clinton's decision to keep fighting; it ain't over till it's over, and I figured she was well within her rights to battle it out to the finish. Of course she still has the right to go on, but by every analysis I've read, she simply can't win, barring some miracle. And as the Democrats have continued duking it out, we've watched in the polls as McCain has gained ground. Whether he would have made the same progress if there had been a clear Democratic nominee is a question that's beyond my sophistication to answer, but my intuition is that this primary has moved out of the healthy range and into destructive territory.

Of course I have no expertise as a social scientist or as an expert on Pennsylvania voters. However, I am a newly minted Pennsylvanian, so I will offer a word or two, based on my experiences and observations here, on possible reasons for Obama's loss.

First, let's not underestimate the role of race. People out here are quite friendly and accepting, for the most part. We've never had a problem. Been welcomed everywhere we go. There is no overt racism to speak of. Yet our little local newspaper saw no problem with running a column that quoted, at length and in support of, Pat Buchanan's deeply offensive thoughts on race (brazenly titled "A Brief for Whitey"), part of which read:

Barack says we need to have a conversation about race in America. Fair enough. But this time, it has to be a two-way conversation. White America needs to be heard from, not just lectured to. This time, the Silent Majority needs to have its convictions, grievances and demands heard. And among them are these: First, America has been the best country on earth for black folks. It was here that 600,000 black people, brought from Africa in slave ships, grew into a community of 40 million, were introduced to Christian salvation, and reached the greatest levels of freedom and prosperity blacks have ever known. Wright ought to go down on his knees and thank God he is an American. Second, no people anywhere has done more to lift up blacks than white Americans. Untold trillions have been spent since the '60s on welfare, food stamps, rent supplements, Section 8 housing, Pell grants, student loans, legal services, Medicaid, Earned Income Tax Credits and poverty programs designed to bring the African-American community into the mainstream.

I plan to devote another post to refuting this nonsense, but for now my only point is that a community might still have a tiny problem with race if this kind of thing passes muster in its local paper without any kind of outcry. Perhaps we live in the kind of place where people are ready enough to be friendly toward a black person in a supermarket, but not quite ready enough to have one as their president.

That kind of racism -- let's call it Stage Two Racism -- is subtle. It's not KKK-style racism. It's almost a vestigial form of the illness, a faint, lingering distrust of the other, a last pyschological clinging to the status quo despite one's better angels. The danger is that people in that mindset are vulnerable to exploitation by the forces that have been out to destroy Obama's candidacy.

Two days after Obama delivered his "More Perfect Union" speech (text here, video here) to overwhelmingly positive reviews, I ran into a fellow father-to-be who had been in our childbirthing class. He brought up the subject of politics and told me he was deeply troubled by Obama's pastor. I asked him if he had heard Obama's speech on race, whose purpose had been to distance himself from his pastor's stance as well as to explain some of the anger of Wright's generation. "No," the guy told me. "But I heard that it was just awful."

Where he heard that, I can only imagine.

I've also heard people around me who are troubled by the "bitter" comments. To quote one local: "I wouldn't vote for him, not after what he said about us Pennsylvanians."

So the unfortunate truth is that this sort of thing works. You get people focused on nonsense (what somebody's preacher said, how well they bowl, how they tried to explain away people's voting tendencies) instead of on substantive issues like getting out of Iraq, achieving energy independence, improving healthcare, salvaging the economy. Just keep repeating the most fatuous, least substantive drivel, making your appeal to the darkest part of the soul or the most childish, superficial part of the mind, and you can get people to believe that those are the "issues" that count.

And of course then the media will feel free to keep pushing that stuff (the stuff the Beltway scribes really get excited about), because, after all, their hands are tied; you see, they'd love to write about the issues, but this petty stuff is all the people care about.

The good news: May 6 is only two weeks away, and that will be a perfect time for Hillary to leave the field with honor.

The bad news: The elevation of the petty over the significant will only continue once it's McCain versus Obama -- and the Washington press corps is addicted to its pro-McCain script, so we can expect the balance of the trivial crap to settle onto Obama's side of the ledger.

Baby: Nest Fever

2008-04-22T14:56:00.003-04:00

She's everywhere, she's everywhere!

Suddenly, like Goosey-Goosey Gander, The Lovely Sophia is upstairs and downstairs, in the laundry room, at the kitchen sink, dusting off the furniture, scrubbing toilets, and generally going overboard with the cleaning-up and the readying.

Some say humans have the same nesting instinct as other organisms when they're about to give birth. Others say that's hogwash, perhaps even poppycock. Molly says it's just what you do to stave off insanity when you've been pregnant forever and are just sick of it. I've been teasing TLS about it all day. She says it ain't nesting; the place just needs a good cleaning.

What do you all think? What has been your experience with the so-called nesting instinct?

Politics: Election Day!

2008-04-22T10:33:00.003-04:00

Can't remember when I've been more excited about casting my ballot. The only thing that will top this one is pulling the lever in November.

We flossed our teeth, I waxed my ample moustaches, and we ambled down to the firehouse to do our civic duty. I in my Uncle Sam top hat, The Lovely Sophia bedecked in her Lady Liberty get-up, which she typically wears of a Tuesday anyway. Her voting card still has that new-citizenship smell, so it was a particularly special morning.

We got there and . . . Diebold! Electronic balloting. No paper trail. No receipt. Just touch the screen, hope to God it takes, and walk away (From the Source Code Review commissioned by the California Secretary of State: "Our analysis shows that the technological controls in the Diebold software do not provide sufficient security to guarantee a trustworthy election.")

VoteTrustUSA.org's top article this morning leads off this way:

"Pennsylvania's Presidential primary on April 22 will be essentially unrecountable, unverifiable, and unauditable -- an irony, because state law requires manual audits of a statistical sample of ballots cast in elections."

Heartening, isn't it? It rather sullied my otherwise capital experience.

Although I suppose that instead of waiting until today to complain, I might have done something to support an activist group like this one or this one to attempt to actually do something about it.

For now, gonna go hang up the top hat till November and get back into my normal Tuesday wear:

Sad But True: Priestly Party Balloon Mishap

2008-04-22T07:53:00.003-04:00

For the record, I really, really hope this priest is found unscathed and reinvigorated after his bracing adventure. That way I won't feel like such a bad person for delighting the way I did in the sentence, "the priest wanted to break a 19-hour record for the most hours flying with balloons to raise money for a spiritual rest-stop for truckers."

PRIEST ATTACHED TO PARTY BALLOONS VANISHES IN BRAZIL
From the Associated Press 4:48 PM PDT, April 21, 2008

SAO PAULO, Brazil -- A Roman Catholic priest who floated off under hundreds of helium party balloons was missing today off the southern coast of Brazil. Rescuers in helicopters and small fishing boats were searching off the coast of Santa Catarina state, where pieces of balloons were found.

Rev. Adelir Antonio de Carli lifted off from the port city of Paranagua on Sunday afternoon, wearing a helmet, thermal suit and a parachute. He was reported missing about eight hours later after losing contact with port authority officials, according to the treasurer of his Sao Cristovao parish, Denise Gallas. Gallas said by telephone that the priest wanted to break a 19-hour record for the most hours flying with balloons to raise money for a spiritual rest-stop for truckers in Paranagua, Brazil's second-largest port for agricultural products. Some American adventurers have used helium balloons to emulate Larry Walters -- who in 1982 rose three miles above Los Angeles in a lawn chair lifted by balloons. A video of Carli posted on the G1 Web site of Globo TV showed the smiling 41-year-old priest slipping into a flight suit, being strapped to a seat attached to a huge column green, red, white and yellow balloons, and soaring into the air to the cheers of a crowd.According to Gallas, the priest soared to an altitude of 20,000 feet (6,000 meters) then descended to about 8,200 feet (2,500 meters) for his planned flight to the city of Dourados, 465 miles (750 kilometers) northwest of his parish.But winds pushed him in another direction, and Carli was some 30 miles (50 kilometers) off the coast when he last contacted Paranagua's port authority, Gallas said.Carli had a GPS device, a satellite phone, a buoyant chair and is an experienced skydiver, Gallas said."We are absolutely confident he will be found alive and well, floating somewhere in the ocean," she said."He knew what he was doing and was fully prepared for any kind of mishap."

Music: Old Crow Medicine Show

2008-04-21T15:30:00.002-04:00

I tend to be late to the musical party, so you all might already know about an alt-country band called Old Crow Medicine Show. If you don't, check out the video for "I Hear Them All." I just discovered them over the weekend, and love that song in particular. Old-timey, catchy, sweet, Dylanesque, and even fairly groovy despite an absence of drumming. Not sure how I feel about the black-folks-as-props in the video, but at least it's a nod toward the inclusiveness that's completely lacking in most of what passes for country music these days.

And they're mostly upstate New York boys, too -- grape pickers and buskers.

Baby: A Brief Pregnancy FAQ

2008-04-21T11:18:00.003-04:00

Cousin Jenn has quite rightly suggested that I post Childbaby's expected arrival date, since I've been less than reliable in keeping everyone properly informed of such matters (one of the reasons this blog is now up and running). So here is a brief FAQ:

Q: When's Childbaby supposed to come?

A: Due date is 23 April, which is -- good Lord -- day after tomorrow.

Q: Think it'll happen on that day?

A: Nah.

Q: If not then, when?

A: Well, we have an appointment on Friday. If nothing's happening by then, the plan is to induce labor on Tuesday, 29 April.

Q: Didn't you expect this baby to come early? What was with all the mid-pregnancy hype about colossal fetuses and so on?

A: Well, see, the Asperger's-afflicted doctor who conducted the first ultrasound told us that the baby was in the 90th percentile for weight, that Sophia was eating way too much sugar (even though she doesn't eat sweets) and that the fact that I weighed 11 pounds at birth could only be attributed to the fact that my mother was diabetic (untrue). It didn't help that the doctor who did the second ultrasound told us that the baby was in the 97th percentile for weight. So we spent those two weeks thinking that the world's largest child was growing inside poor Sophia -- until we saw this doc again and he told us he had meant to say 79th percentile, not 97th. Even so, it seemed we were in for a whopper, but every measurement since then has been closer to normal. We're still expecting it to weigh around 9 pounds, but it probably won't be the monster we thought it would be earlier on.

Q: Do you know whether you're having a boy or a girl?

A: No. Do you?

Economy: Following up on Tim's Excellent Comments

2008-04-21T09:02:00.003-04:00

Just wanted to provide my responses to a couple of comments Tim made to my "Epidemic of Entitlement" post with its kill-your-TV subtext.

First, I highly recommend the Scientific American article he references, which can still be read in PDF format here. It's a pretty intriguing look at what's happening at the cognitive level when we watch TV, and why, as the title indicates, it's not just a metaphor to speak of being "addicted" to the habit. (For a bit more on television and cognitive development in babies, I recommend this article, which cites recent studies that resulted in the American Academy of Pediatrics issuing the recommendation that babies watch no television -- even educational videos -- until age two.)

Tim also poses a question: "Do you think that our greater society would be so civilized after the loss of our lifestyle? What happens when the televisions go dark?"

Obviously the question is only philosophical, since the screens won't be fading to black anytime soon. But before I go on to answer the question, I first want to make clear what my own stance on TV is. Many of you know that it's an uneasy relationship the two of us have, the boob tube and I. I had no TV for most of my upbringing, and again lived without it when I was a single young buck in Mt. Vernon. There, my home life was all about reading, writing, and music. Now that I live with TV, I of course find myself enjoying it often enough. I don't judge people who watch a lot of TV -- or at least I try not to, until they judge me for not watching enough (True story: Once when I had to make a TV appearance to talk about an article I'd written, I was sitting in the hot seat with the earpiece in, waiting for the program host to come on and begin the interview, and I happened to mention to the PR guy who had accompanied me to the studio that I had no television. He was deeply offended, and set about haranguing me for not having a television, as the seconds ticked down to airtime. When the host came on, I was still in heated debate, defending my lifestyle choice to this guy. Touched a nerve in him, I guess).

But I digress.

It's impossible to imagine what would happen if all the screens went blank, but I daresay we'd quickly become less civilized, not more. Given the fact that, as I mentioned in my original post, our economy pretty much now hinges on mindless consumption, to pull the rug abruptly out from under one of the main vehicles for encouraging this consumption, i.e., television, would be pretty disastrous for the economy -- and thus would do our level of "civilization" no favors, either.

But to restate the point I made in my original post, as an individual act of financial self-defense, cutting back on television makes a lot of sense. The financial advisors I've been speaking with are pretty much unanimous on the idea that we have a huge, huge problem in this country with sorting out needs from luxuries. By nature, each of us has a pretty accurate compass for arriving at this distinction, but the needle gets thrown way off by the cultural forces that swirl around us -- and television is probably foremost among them as a driver.

So my main point in all of this is not that no one should watch any TV at all anymore. Instead, I would simply reiterate the two main points I may have flubbed in my first post:

1. Holy crap. Even the finance gurus are recognizing how influential TV has been in creating both the personal and national debt problem.

2. For those of us who are having difficulty controlling mindless spending, one step might be to monitor our TV habits and consider to what extent the medium's messages are corrupting our ability to make wise financial choices.

And finally, just one note on the larger, civilizational issues related to television, followed by a question to you the reader:

As I've traveled to remote places around the world where television and consumer culture have not yet taken root with the same force as in the U.S., I've struggled with a kind of ethical question about what's "best" for people who live in these places. It is a balm to the world-weary soul to walk a starlit country road in rural Jamaica and hear children playing tag out in the dark, or to sit in the cool of an African evening and visit with families who have finished their workdays and are now relaxing by lantern light -- people interacting, not shut into their homes staring at a flickering screen. Yet most of those people want, rather desperately, what we in the U.S. have. Arrogance, indeed, to tell people who have nothing, "Oh, no, you don't want all these nice computers and big TVs and flashy cell phones and everything. Your life here in poverty and darkness is far preferable to our trashy consumer culture." Yet it's clear that we give something up when we opt for shiny new things. And clearly that something is what a reasonable person might define as "civilization" (acceptable levels of violence, knowing our neighbors, spending time with our families, having meaningful conversations, etc.).

Now my question to you the reader: Where is this all heading? The TV/infotainment/consumption lifestyle has amazing momentum, and it's hard to imagine our culture not going ever deeper into that place; were we to pull the plug on it, we would cripple our economy such as it is; and the rest of the world is hot on our heels in terms of achieving our rather dubious lifestyle. Where we goin' with all this, and is there a palatable way forward?

Sad but True: WWJWWAPF?

2008-04-21T07:12:00.002-04:00

That stands for "Who Would Jesus Whack With a Palm Frond?" Of course.

Christians clash at Jesus' tomb on Orthodox Palm Sunday
By SARAH EL DEEB Associated Press Writer
2:49 PM EDT, April 20, 2008
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JERUSALEM - Dozens of Greek and Armenian priests and worshippers exchanged blows at one of Christianity's holiest shrines on Orthodox Palm Sunday, and used palm fronds to pummel police who tried to break up the brawl.The fight came amid growing rivalry over religious rights at the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, built over the site in Jerusalem where tradition says Jesus was buried and resurrected.It erupted when Armenian clergy kicked out a Greek priest from their midst, pushed him to the ground and kicked him, according to witnesses.When police intervened, some worshippers hit them with the palm fronds they were holding for the religious holiday. The Eastern Orthodox churches, including the Armenians and Greek Orthodox, follow a different calendar from Western Christians and celebrate Easter next Sunday.

Two Armenian worshippers who attacked the Greek Orthodox clergy were briefly detained by Israeli police. Scores of Armenian supporters then protested outside the police station during the questioning of the two, beating drums and chanting.The Holy Sepulcher is shared by several Christian denominations according to a centuries-old arrangement known as the "status quo."Each denomination jealously guards its share of the basilica, and fights over rights at the church have intensified in recent years, particularly between the Armenians and Greeks.

Father Pakrad, an Armenian priest, said the presence of the Greek priest during the Armenian observances violated the status quo. "Our priests entered the tomb. They kicked the Greek monk out of the Edicule," he said, referring to the tomb area.Pakrad accused the Greek Orthodox Christians of trying to step on the Armenians' rights. "We are the weak ones, persecuted by them for many centuries."The Greek Orthodox Patriarch in the Holy Land, Theofilos III, told The Associated Press that the Armenians are pushing to change the rules, challenging what he said was the dominance of the Greek church in the Holy Land."This behavior is criminal and unacceptable by all means," he said. "They wanted to trespass on the status quo concerning the order that regulates the services between the various communities."

The Church of the Nativity in nearby Bethlehem -- where Jesus is said to have been born -- also falls under the status quo arrangement. Last year, pre-Christmas cleaning in that church turned ugly when robed Greek Orthodox and Armenian priests went at each other with brooms and stones.

Baby: Cheers for the Lady!

2008-04-20T17:37:00.003-04:00

To all of those women in my life who have given birth -- some of you up to six times -- let me just say, hey, wow. Really great work.

It impresses me to no end.

And we haven't even got to the part where the baby leaves the body. Or kicks over the shopping display. Or steals the family car. Etc.

As you see in the photo, the egg we're sittin' on just gets bigger and bigger as the days roll on. Yet The Lovely Sophia remains cheerful. I would not be cheerful. Let me tell you that right now. But she is cheerful.

Two evenings ago, Childbaby got up to some kind of construction work in there, and I watched as the top of The Lovely Sophia's belly began to rise no differently at all than if someone had begun inflating it with a bicycle pump. It stopped before it got to her throat, but not so very much before then.

To all you young fellers out there who have all this to look forward to: It's better than TV!

Politics: Report from Ground Zero (PA)

2008-04-18T16:11:00.004-04:00

With just a few days left till the big Democratic primary here in Pennsylvania, we're being subjected to more targeted campaign rhetoric than I've ever experienced before. The phone rings and it's Hillary or Obama, asking for our votes (in fact, the writing of this post was interrupted by a call from Senator Bob Casey, who "knows Barack Obama well" and thinks I would do well to cast my ballot for him). Former POTUS Bill was in town last Sunday; made an appearance at the local high school, and I had every intention of going and hearing him out. But then evening came and I realized, "Oh, yeah! That's what I was planning on doing today." I knew there was something.

Sorry, Bill. Just got to doing other things.

Most of you know (or might guess) that I'm an Obama man, but I'm not a hater of the Clintons. Still, as a direct target of the phone/TV/direct-mail onslaught, I think I can fairly objectively say that the Clinton campaign is decidedly more negative in tone than Obama's. Case in point: During Wednesday night's debate, Obama actually went to bat for Clinton (and himself) in calling ABC's Charles Gibson on the petty, divisive, side-show pap that "distracts" from the real issues (paraphrase). Obama's high-minded defense of substance over gossip was good enough for Clinton Wednesday night but apparently not today, to judge by the mailing we received:

DOES BARACK OBAMA UNDERSTAND US AND OUR VALUES?

At a Fundraiser in San Francisco, Barack Obama Told Wealthy Campaign Donors What He Really Thinks of Pennsylvania Families.

"You go into these small towns in Pennsylvania and, like a lot of small towns in the Midwest, the jobs have been gone now for 25 years and nothing's replaced them . . . And it's not surprising then they get bitter, they cling to guns or religion or antipathy to people who aren't like them or anti-immigrant sentiment or anti-trade sentiment as a way to explain their frustrations." -- Barack Obama, San Francisco, 4/6/2008

Pennsylvania Needs a President Who Will Stand Up for Us -- Not Someone Who Looks Down on Us. (Paid for by Hillary Clinton for President.)

It's evident from the style of this mailing what its Author's Opinion of Pennsylvania Voters Really Is -- but let's leave that aside for the moment. The whole flap over this Obama quote is nicely encapsulated by what one blogger has called "the cult of the offhand comment." Irrespective of whether or not you agree with Obama or feel that his words were well chosen (If anyone cares, my opinion happens to be that his words were neither particularly well chosen nor intended in the sense in which people have been gleefully bruiting them about), you will surely agree that there are rather more pressing issues in this election than the fact that one of the candidates said something behind closed doors that could, if you squint hard enough, be taken as an insult to some voters in Pennsylvania. Yet instead of focusing on those very real and important issues (war, economy), this is the sort of thing that Gibbons and Stephanopoulos spent the first 50 minutes of Wednesday's debate rehashing.

And now this mailing.

Barack, I'm still waiting for your postcard lambasting Hillary for her phantom memories of sniper fire. Better hurry. Only four days left till election day.

Economy: An Epidemic of Entitlement

2008-04-18T10:13:00.001-04:00

Because my work takes me in and out of lots of different universes, I'm often treated to happy coincidences and overlaps in subject matter. Lately my work on two separate projects has served to underscore what many of us have long sensed about the hollowness of our consumer culture. I'm simultaneously interviewing employees for a large investment bank and working on a magazine article about people's spending habits. So that has meant talking to more members of the financial industry than most free-spirited yokels like myself would typically enjoy. But through these conversations, it kind of feels like I've been taking the temperature of our enonomy -- or, if you like, our economic soul.

One might expect these denizens of Wall Street, these grubbers-after-luchre, to defend the status quo. Yet I've been rather startled by much of what they tell me. Four points stand out in particular:

1. Our economy is really circling the drain. Expect things to get worse, and soon.

2. What's happened (subprime, credit crunch) is attributable, basically, to irrational exuberance, unchecked greed, and a belief in limitless growth with no consequences.

3. At the very root of our economic woes lies . . . television! Yes, several financial professionals have confessed to me a conviction that television has rotted out our ability to be realistic about what we want and need. Many of you will, of course, have felt this way all along -- but to hear the folks in the belly of the beast come to embrace this rather old-fashioned notion must be indicative of something . . . and I wish I could say that that something were progress (methinks it's the opposite). An interesting sub-point here, as pointed out by one of my financial advisors: We're used to acknowledging that TV advertising creates "needs" that we didn't know we had, but the boob tube has moved into more insidious terrain in recent years. Now the programming is just as troublesome. "We see intimately into the lives of people who have much more than we do, and that gets normalized in our minds," she said. "We think we should have everything that the people on TV do -- not just that it would be nice to have, but that we actually deserve it."

4. This leads to what more than one of these experts has called "an epidemic of entitlement." Maybe we're awakening to the fact that we're hooked on stuff, addicted to consumerism, but you know what? The entitlement germ has settled in. And as Daniel Lanois sings, it's "hard to have and then have not." Once your thinking has been changed in these subtle but effective ways, and you've come to believe in needs that are really just desires, a radical shift of thought and behavior is required in order to try to undo the damage. Step One: Kill your television? This advice was given to me not by some hippy-dippy granola out in Sedona, but by a New Yorker with "CFP" after his name, who goes to work every day in a suit and tie.

Of course the largest point here is this: individual behaviors (and neuroses and attitudes) affect the bigger picture. If our economy stands now on wobbly legs, it's not necessarily just because of enormous geopolitical events, Wall Street shenanigans or even massive trade deals; of course these factors have their place, but let's not misunderestimate the role of individual decisions which, in aggregate, can conspire to weaken a whole economy, especially one whose very foundation is no longer built on manufacturing anything but rather on the pathological consumption behavior of its people and on the moving-around of money. Flimsy foundations, indeed.

The First Outstanding Post (They'll get better.)

2008-04-17T21:35:00.000-04:00

Here's what happens when a writer with way too little time on his hands decides to start a blog -- just days before he becomes a father. Who knows? If you check in occasionally, you might even find some content here.

Definitely some baby pictures, if that's a motivator.

The plan is to have a few corners of the Globe, for personal and family stuff, politics, culture, entertainment, etc.

And as your host I will strive for unboringness. That there's a promise.