Roots

Somewhere along the way, I've forgotten my southern roots. I suppose that's somewhat understandable, considering that my upbringing occurred completely on Yankee soil. As a child, I remember fleeting references that hinted to a heritage beyond the New England states. For example, people would often take note of my mom's slight accent and ask where she was from. I never quite noticed it. Of course we made frequent pilgrimages to Virginia to see Aunt Becky and Grandmama, and they made even more trips to see us. And so I never forgot about where my mom came from; I guess it just never felt like my history. Grandmama died 16 years ago and thus ended our summer trips to her house where my brother and I would pick green beans and drive the tractor around the yard (crashing it every so often). I remember my mom letting me steer Granddaddy's 1973 Ford truck (surprising after the tractor incidents) as we drove the short distance on Route 689 from Grandmama's to US 460. Those are some sweet memories.


My dear Aunt Becky still lives in Virginia with her family, and as I hadn't been back in years and Andrew had never visited, we decided to go over Easter. We were treated to true southern hospitality and Becky's incredible memory. We spent the weekend laughing, listening and asking questions as we relived memories and created new ones. We had Easter lunch at the Peaks of Otter, a childhood haunt I hadn't revisited in years. The following day we hiked Sharp Top Mountain and were rewarded with beautiful views of Virginia countryside. And of course, we found a new friend in Pugsley (who couldn't love that face?).


On our last day, we drove over to where Grandmama had lived. I hadn't been there since she died. We commented on how the property seemed smaller than we remembered. The barn and garage were a little run down, and the trailer was gone, but the well cap was still there, which had always posed a challenging obstacle to our tractor cruising. We remembered where the grape vines and garden used to be and how the land sloped in the back. The garage and utility shed were open. I was hoping for the shed to smell as I remembered, but it didn't. It's been been a while I guess. Smells fade. But amidst the decay and relics of a life once lived, new life persists...

in dogwood blooms...

...and in a renewed connection to a history that is mine too.

[in the cement under the outdoor shelter]

[the barn my grandfather built]

[the garage/shed also built by Granddaddy]

Move It or Lose It, Buddy

I really don't want to use this blog as a platform to complain, but I can't help myself on this one. I've been considering a lot lately what it means to live as a community, and I'll tell you what doesn't fit: saving parking spots with chairs/sawhorses/crates/coke cans/buckets/cones... whatever. Not cool. I do not understand how shoveling out a spot justifies the sense that now, this piece of city-owned pavement is mine. I would much rather approach snow removal as a neighborhood endeavor, a common goal, the idea being that this is our city block, together. And together, we will work to get the snow out and our cars in. If everyone would shovel out their spot (and help those who cannot), then wouldn't our block be cleared and we could all park? I know that some people don't shovel. But since when is it ok to abstain from doing the right thing just because that's what everyone else is doing? Didn't we learn that lesson in kindergarten? In any case, if anyone has some good suggestions for how to transform this individual act into one of common care and concern, please, fire away. And for those of you who don't live in Chicago and don't know what I'm talking about, here you go:





Addendum: I would be remiss not to mention the upside. Not everyone abides by the spot saving strategies of the supremely annoying. Sometimes a good car-trapping snowstorm can bring out the best in people. Andrew has become Super Shoveler (with a cape and everything) and is always ready to rescue a lad or lass in tire-spinning distress. And I know he's not the only one. Perhaps therein lies the solution: model the change we wish to see.

2009

At some point along my haphazard journey to discover a hobby, I committed to paper. Not scrapbooking, just paper. Letterpress. Stationary. Gift wrap. The Perfect Greeting Card. Decorative paper with whimsical designs. And while I don't think I ever truly embraced the full-fledged art of Paper (I finally admitted that I really just liked to buy it and appreciate it, as opposed to actually ever doing anything with it), there are some things I picked up along the way that I just can't shake. Take greetings cards for instance: If you get a greeting card from me, you can be assured that it will be hand selected and not from Jewel (and if I'm feeling really inspired, I might just make it). Or gift wrap: try a paisley print or Paper Source's Colonial Indian Chinz pattern. Fonts? Texas Hero is still my favorite. And so, as you can probably imagine, the Paper Source has become a treasured merchant in my quest for creativity. When I go there, whatever little dormant dusts of inspiration I have are resurrected and I feel the sense of possibility once again. Last year, I discovered their exclusive Date Books and for the first time in my life, I felt satisfied with my chosen method of organization. Great design, eco-friendly and fantastic colors. What more could a paper girl want?

Well, I'll tell you what she wants: less planning. If there's anything I'd like to change about myself for 2009, it would be that if I ever needed to, I could throw that planner out the window (at this point, I don't ever see that happening, but it's only January 7th). I'd like to be less scheduled, more flexible and more generous with my time. While I realize that this is easy for some, I'm confronting the fact that it is very, very difficult for me. I protect my time to the point of selfishness and somewhere between Monday and Sunday I have forgotten on whom I should be spending it. And so, in a symbolic gesture, this year I bought the Mini Date Book (in persimmon red). May it be a reminder to me to not covet those blank pages, but to give of them freely. A reminder to plan less and live more.

Alternate Routes | Advent

I first saw this on Barbara and Nathan's blog. If you haven't seen it already, you should take a look. Andrew and I have been thinking lately, how can we "do" Christmas differently? How do we best embrace Advent, I mean, really embrace it? Not just by singing some carols and lighting some candles, but rather, how should we change our practices to prepare ourselves for the coming Christ? I'm sure at first thought, we could all rattle off a few things: give more to charity, spend more time in prayer, savor those quiet nights of anticipation, read the Christmas story with more expectation. To be sure, those are all good things. But I think the story of Christmas, and indeed, the life of Christ, requires more. For me, this video excites the imagination and so I find it pretty apropos for Advent, but why stop there? The more I entrench myself in a different kind of Christmas, the more I find that the Christian life requires not just a change of shopping habits in December (although it does indeed require that), but a comprehensive change of lifestyle. Year round.

And so the question becomes, how do we "do" life differently?

This question in particular has been hounding me lately. A lifestyle change requires not just deeper pockets (that would be easy), but it requires broader perspectives, freer schedules, trusting hearts, a relentless commitment to each other and our neighbors, and hardest of all, resistance to the idols of prosperity, security, comfort and safety. I've given this much thought, but not too much action. And while at times I berate myself over this fact, I am also realizing that perhaps big change takes some big preparation. Of course, maybe that's just an excuse. But either way, Advent is the time of preparation and I will take advantage of it.

Self-portrait(s)

After being away for a week and a half, I almost feel like I'm returning to another world. Breaks are good. Andrew and I spent about a week in New Hampshire, and before that, I was in Phoenix for a work conference. Our little vacation proved to not only be a wonderful time reconnecting with family and friends, but it also allowed us some time with ourselves. To rest our minds. To relax. To visit with others. To be hundreds of miles away from work. To escape the demands of daily life. To read. To (try to) abstain from email and blogs and phone calls. Instead, we could just be with each other and our families in the most basic sense. Whenever I have a chance to do this, I get a little closer to identifying the kind of life I'd like to lead: one that is perhaps a little slower paced, that is defined primarily by real, human interaction, and one that leaves room for the unknown and unexpected. Communing with loved ones coupled with a little self-introspection: not a bad way to take a break.

Beyond the Voices

I told you that I'm embracing my swing voter status, but, until recently, it hasn't been all that easy. My conservative leanings relentlessly prod me toward McCain, but, to be honest, I'm not excited about him. At all. Not even with Palin, and partly because of her. My conservative side is saying don't get wrapped up in the drama of Obama. He's charismatic, compelling, resonating, but he still employs age-old liberal ideas (with a liberal voting record to prove it) that have not always been of benefit to our country. The conservative side of me says remember, remember. But my newly emerged, liberal nodding, independent side is saying forget, forget. Forget your old ways and embrace the new. Forget any sense of party allegiance, consider what is imperative for today, and for once in your political life, let your heart take over your head (it's hard for me to even write that). And the commanding, overarching, God-breathed whole of me is saying you are beholden to no party, candidate, president or nation. You play by a different set of rules altogether. Be shrewd. Be wise.

But now, the battle is behind me, and for the most part, the voices have been silenced, except for the last. I hear only the freedom (and responsibility) to seriously consider both candidates and vote for a leader fit to meet the challenges of today. The permission I have given myself to do this is liberating, and, unlike before, I'm ready to take on the next 35 days.

I'm back in the presidential race.

On the Fence Independence

Ok, here we go. It's taken me a year and a half to even broach this subject. Sure, I've touched on political topics here and there, but I've never really come out and said what I'm actually thinking. Why in the world would I want to do that?! After all, there is a chance, a very slight chance, that you just might disagree with me. (Gasp!) But I'm going to risk it. I think we all need to risk it. I think we need to lay our cards on the table, assert our opinions/wonderings/musings/questions/concerns/values and then humble ourselves to others. How else do we expect to grow into (or out of or around) ourselves and with each other?

If I had to give a brief summary of my political journey along the Liberal to Conservative spectrum, it would go something like this: unaware of the spectrum, unconcerned with the spectrum, what's the spectrum again?, ok, I think I get the spectrum, concerned with the spectrum, a little to the left, a little to the right, more in the middle. Hope that clears things up.

I'm realizing that my childhood was relatively politics-free, in the sense that we didn't really talk about it, nor did it have apparent influence on my daily life. My parents never used "God" and "County" in the same sentence and I did not grow up in a location with a rich, unwavering devotion to Red or Blue. After all, I grew up in New Hampshire: Live Free or Die. I lived in blissful ignorance of the journey ahead and I avoided a lot of political baggage that could have (and probably would've) strongarmed my future perspectives.

So, when college rolled around and I decided to get my degree in politics (of all things), you can imagine the process that was before me: How do I make sense of all this, get off the fence, and believe in something? College introduced me to the Other, in all senses of the word, as it related to my politics, but even more overarching, as it related to my faith. The Left seemed to stand for the Other. I was on board and off the fence. Post-college introduced me to hard-working people, removed from the luxury of collegiate idealism, who outlined for me values of the Right (and when I say Right, please do not assume the Religious Right), such as freedom, responsibility, and pragmatism, all values that would still compel and enable me to care for the Other. I was won over and still off the fence.*

And now, I'm thinking that on the fence is not a bad place to be. I do think we need to know where we stand on individual issues, events, values and ideals, but I think we should embrace the freedom and responsibility to think outside of our two political parties, to straddle the aisle at times and take the good from both. We need both Left and Right, and to accept one in totality while completely rejecting the other is to limit our own thoughts and our nation's possibilities. In this election season, we have heard of the incalculable importance of the "swing voters", the Independents. And to be an Independent is to commit to sorting it out for ourselves, free from blind devotions and scripted answers. That's a fence I don't mind being on.

*Disclaimer: I know this paragraph oversimplifies the values/platforms of the Left and Right. I know it's not that black and white and that these values can overlap.

More to come...

In the Hobby Lobby

Do you ever feel like all the good hobbies are taken? I have been on the hunt for a hobby for the better part of 4 years, and to no avail. I suppose that to actively look for a hobby somehow defeats the purpose; aren't they supposed to be natural expressions of things we're good at? But I just can't seem to land on that one thing (one, at least, please!) that I can call my own. Sure, I'm good at some things like organizing (snoozefest) ... [long pause here while I try to think of things]... being a friend (NOT a hobby), reading (who doesn't?), skiing (I'm really great those 2 times a year), lounging (actually, I'm not so good at this because I'm too busy organizing), going to restaurants (great, I like to pay a lot to eat food) and I like to pick out greeting cards. See what I have to work with?

In talking to my friend Jessica (who, gratefully, is on the hobby hunt too), we realized that when we think of hobbies, we automatically think that they must be something creative. Things that come to mind: sewing, painting, knitting, cooking, taking photos, quilting, playing an instrument, building, writing... you get the idea. I enjoy dabbling in creativity, but with a creative husband and irritatingly creative friends, I'm just about always playing second fiddle (I did try playing mandolin... hobby potential TBD). I suppose a hobby doesn't have to be exclusively creative, but I would like it to reflect something I'm good at or something I enjoy--something unique to me.

So, what to do? Anyone have some good hobby suggestions? Here are some guidelines when proposing hobby ideas:

1. Not too expensive (I'm not about to buy a yacht or take polo lessons).
2. Not a huge time commitment (this should be a hobby, not a day job).
3. Fun (sorry, I'm good at organizing but I'm not going to file your old bank statements or check the expiration dates on your old spices).
4. No collections.
5. No scrapbooking.

That's it. Sounds easy, huh?

Taking a Step in an Organic Direction

In the past year or two, I feel I have come a long way in terms of how I view food, and more specifically, the food I eat. But before I launch into what I have learned and how I have changed, I should provide some clarifications in the way of a disclaimer:

I am not a health food junkie.
I rarely take vitamins, despite Andrew's greatest attempts.
I am by no means a Whole Foods worshipper (more on this later).
I am not someone who will buy organic at any cost.
I am no expert on sustainability.

While these things still are and have always been true for me, it should be noted that before a year or two ago, the words "organic" and "sustainability" would have barely entered my vocabulary. Perhaps it is due to all the organic hype as of late, or perhaps it comes from being immersed in an urban setting (Chicago) or a socially conscious setting (our church), or maybe it's because I'm getting older and have a greater interest in how I care for my body and spend my money, but whatever the reason (and it's most likely a combination of all the above), I am ready to engage the topic.

So, where do I stand? A few thoughts: First, I do not dispute the fact that food grown organically is better for you and the environment. Pesticides and chemicals and hormones are bad. I get that. Second, I have come to understand and appreciate the difference between organic and local. The concepts are quite linked, but they are not interchangeable. True, oftentimes food is both organic and local, but sometimes it is not. Third, there are many benefits and implications for eating organic, locally grown food, and I acknowledge those benefits as a viable reason why I would want to invest my money and energy into making organic and local eating a priority.

My challenge with organic eating is best exemplified by the problem that the store Whole Foods presents. Whole Foods seems to have gained the corner market on all things organic. When you think organic, you think Whole Foods. And when you think Whole Foods, you think expensive, very very expensive. Assuming this line of thinking (which not all of you may espouse, I understand), the logical conclusion is that eating organically is a luxury. I would argue that even if you don't completely agree with this line of thinking, there is still some element of privilege that must be acknowledged when it comes to the choice to eat organically. It is a choice and that alone makes it a privilege. There are many many people who would love to make better food choices for their family but cannot possibly afford it. We must recognize that when we start making judgments about how people eat.

My understanding of the distinction between organic and local has helped me to start to reconcile this conflict. I am no guru when it comes to local, sustainable farms (see disclaimers above) and I don't have any stats in front of me to back up my claim, but I believe that local helps the organic to become more accessible. This isn't to say that Whole Foods doesn't carry locally grown food (although, I think it's fair to say that Whole Foods has taken a lot of the local out of organic). I'm only saying that it's just good business sense to cut out the middle man (or woman) and get your food from the farmer, right? And if nothing else, when I buy locally I know that I am supporting local farmers and sustainable farms. And from my experience, these farmers are socially conscious; they want to make good food accessible.

Starting this summer our church is partnering with Mike and Clare's Farm in Ottawa, Illinois, as part of a Community Supported Agriculture (CSA) program (for more info on CSAs, click here). Once a week, shares of freshly grown and harvested vegetables (some of which are well known and some of which I have never heard) will be delivered to our church. In addition, we'll be receiving shares of meat, such as grass-fed beef, pasture raised chicken and free range eggs, from Cedar Valley Sustainable Farm. It is our church's vision that we will not only take a more responsible approach to our food as individuals, but that as a community, we will use our CSA partnership to reach out to those in need.

Andrew and I are excited to start making decisions about organic food in a way that makes sense for us. While we've always tried to buy fresh, avoid processed foods and shop around the perimeter of the grocery store (some great advice my mom passed on), I'm glad to be taking that next step. The next challenge? Recipes using hakerei and tatsoi. No clue.

Mandolin 1 Rep

Well, I'm back at it. After a brief holiday/winter hiatus, I have resumed my mandolin lessons and have started the next class, Mandolin 1 Rep, at the Old Town School of Folk Music. At the end of 8 weeks, I hope to have expanded my repertoire, improved my picking skills and beefed up my calluses. And if all that fails, at least it will be spring.

The dynamics of this class are quite different: there are 12 students on the roster as opposed to a mere 3, and we meet for an additional 20 minutes (believe me, my fingers can feel the difference). I'm pretty sure that Mandolin 1 Rep is going to be the make-it-or-break-it factor in my mandolin career. There are definitely more experienced people in my class this time, and while it's good to have those to push you along, it's hard not to think of them as pushing you around. Every once in awhile, my competitive spirit kicks in and I think, I'm gonna do this thing, gosh darn it, no matter how much I have to practice. And then, in the next breath... argh, who am I kidding? I'm sure this battle is not unique to those learning something new. Sure, there are naturals, but most people are like me, right? This is the question I struggle with: do I have that special "something" beyond dedication, determination and practice (assuming I have those, of course), that will truly make me a decent musician? Is there a "something" at all? And if so, is it necessary for any functional musician, or is that "something" merely what separates the great musicians from the good ones? I guess when it comes down to it, I just want to know if it's possible for me. If I knew that, I would avoid the risk of wasting time and money. So, I guess I'm looking for a safe way to be a rock star without taking the risk of wasting anything. Boohoo.

This post sounds like the revealing ramblings of someone in therapy. That wasn't my intent, and despite what it may sound like, these thoughts aren't keeping me up at night. However, this does teach me some things about myself and our society, namely, I (we) expect FAST results and I (we) don't want to sacrifice a lot to get them. Of course, I need only look at the great artists of this age and those of ages past to realize how those expectations can only set me up for failure. So, I will play on.

Anticipation

This past Sunday marked the first Sunday in Advent. Every year, I look forward to the Christmas season, and every year, come January, I wonder where it went. That seemingly unending march toward Christmas ended long ago, only to be replaced by comments such as: “I can’t believe it’s December already!” and “I only have 2 weeks to do all my shopping?!” and “Where did this year go? Nevermind this month!” Indeed, time has been racing by while I've been making futile attempts at recreating that “Christmas feeling” I remember so well as a child. And I've realized that over the past several years, I've started to enjoy the anticipation of Advent more than the season itself. The anticipation harbors more hope, more promise: this year will be different, I’m sure of it. But every year I seem to be disappointed. Santa and gifts don’t do it anymore, and even the lights and music can become routine. I've outgrown the Christmas of my past. It’s time to recreate what Advent means to me, time to discover in what way I can most appreciate and reflect the spirit of Christmas. I don’t know what this will look like. New traditions? A new attitude? A new intentionality? Whatever it is, I must stop looking to the ghosts of my Christmas past to satisfy that desire to really experience the Advent season. After all, Advent itself implies a hope, a look to the future. And Advent deserves a renewed vigilance on my part, for at what other time can we sing,

Come Thou long-expected Jesus
Born to set Thy people free;
From our fears and sins release us,
Let us find our rest in Thee.

-Charles Wesley

Fall

I'm realizing that ever since I was 4 or 5 years old and started going to school, I've always associated fall with beginnings and newness--new school year, new friends, new sneakers, new pencil case, new schedules--a new season. Logically, I thought those associations would end once I finished school, but I'm finding the opposite to be true. Somehow, those 20-odd years of schooltime anticipations have worn a deep rut in my expectations for fall, as if I had written them on a chalkboard 100 times. There have been a number of mornings, on my way to work, that I have longed to be cracking a new textbook or trying desperately to remember my locker combination. Now it must be understood that I'm not wishing to be back in junior high, high school or even college. And if I try to look beyond the hazy glory of new sweaters and unmarked notebooks, I will remember that all of this excitement usually wore off by mid October, when we all couldn't wait for Thanksgiving break. But that's beside the point. What I am finding now is that I can't escape the energy of fall--that anticipation of new beginnings. I'm energized by the change in season, the newness of cooler weather, new colors. While I may not be immersing myself in another year of academic assignments, I am inspired to start projects, take on new responsibilities, learn a new hobby (yes, mandolin), commit to renewing myself and changing some attitudes.

I do love fall. And for some reason, I've always felt some kind of ownership of it, as if it were my season. Perhaps it's because my birthday is in September, or because I'm from New England, which, let's admit, has the corner market on fall colors. Or maybe it's because when I was younger, my mom had our personal "color palates" analyzed, and it was determined that I looked best in fall colors. And now, as we prepare to celebrate our first year of marriage this weekend, I am realizing how fitting it is for our anniversary to be couched in the energy of fall. What better time to commit to the celebration and renewal of our marriage... this year and every year to come. I hope we will always harness some of that fall inspiration to remember, reflect, and be grateful for the gift we have in each other.

We were given some great advice from my pastor, Dale, who married us. During our pre-marital counseling, he told us that for the first year of our marriage, we were "off the hook", so to speak. For that first year, he explained, we need not feel pressured to take on new responsibilities or commit to new endeavors. For that first year we were to just be--be with each other, learn about each other, and learn what it means to start living out our vows. Great advice indeed.

And I'm realizing that it may not just be the advent of fall that is infusing me with newness and energy, but that it may also be the product of a year of nurturing our infant marriage. A year of intentional thought and planning regarding who we want to be as a couple and what that may look like. A year of learning how to love and support the other as we each explore who we are individually in this relationship. It's been a year--a year of getting ready to go.

So now I'm feeling ready, and while I look forward to what Year Two will bring as we continue to find our footing, continue to grow and shape our marriage, and as we begin to put some plans into action (no, this does not mean children), I will not forget nor abandon the lessons of Year One. Because no matter how inspiring the back-to-school sales might be, there must always be time to just be, to allow God to breathe life into our souls, into our marriage.

Happy One.

Codes or Common Sense?

Within the past few months, two female passengers aboard Southwest flights have been asked to "cover up" because their provocative clothing was inappropriate and potentially offensive to some passengers. Setara Qassim, 21, was asked to wrap a blanket around herself for the flight in order to hide her halter-style dress. She complained that if Southwest wants its passengers to dress in a certain manner, then they should publish a dress code. Southwest airline spokesman, Chris Mainz, said, "We don't have a dress code. We rely on our employees to use common sense, good judgment and good taste" (Associated Press).

And so they should! Are we really so wayward as to need a dress code to fly? The last thing we need when flying is another set of restrictions and regulations. We're already defying common sense when we have to remove our explosive lip balm from our carry-on bags. It's gratifying to know that there are corporations out there who still value common sense, and who are willing to uphold that value at the cost of possibly hurting someone's feelings. I applaud their effort to deal with violators on a case by case basis (a most uncomfortable situation, I'm sure) instead of hiding behind the safety of a blanket policy. And for those who feel humiliated by being reprimanded for their poor judgment? Next time, use common sense.

For further commentary on airborne apparel, click here.

Massclusivity

Saturday afternoons often find Andrew and I enjoying the people and surroundings of our neighborhood. In the past year, we have learned that come 9:00 am on weekend mornings, young families with children and pets have already escaped the house to enjoy the urban, yet neighborly, activity of the Square. I have appreciated the down to earth character of those who inhabit this neighborhood. While it’s definitely not lacking a fashionable style, it’s not exclusively trendy. Think Anthropologie meets lederhosen. A few weekends ago, we were relaxing on a bench and I couldn’t help but notice a very stylish mom hanging out with her son. She had a great dress on and I kept wondering where she purchased it and how much she paid. I finally asked her, braced to hear about some chic boutique, forever out of my price range. The answer? Target. “Yeah,” she said, “they have great designers who create lines exclusively for the store. You have to check often, because things get snatched up pretty quickly.”

Yesterday, I heard on NPR that Vera Wang is coming out with a line, Very Vera, for Kohl’s stores. Ahhh yes, the Democratization of Fashion. In 2000, Target brought in its first design partner, Mossimo Giannulli, followed by Liz Lange in 2002 and Isaac Mizrahi in 2003. A year or two ago, Wal-mart adopted the same approach to attracting more fashion conscious shoppers, but without as much success. And now Kohl’s. According to one fashion blog I read, “In recent years, a slew of high-end designers have worked with lower-end firms to offer "designer" products at low prices. This trend came to be termed "massclusivity"--the idea being that a lower ticket price would make high fashion available to the masses.” But is it possible that by bringing high-end designs to the public, the high-end designers are diminishing their own distinctiveness? Is it not precisely exclusivity that contributes to a product’s prestige and demand? And are we, the masses, truly experiencing the high-end luxury that these designers are bringing to our discount stores? Don’t get me wrong. I’m happy to pay $35 for a dress instead of $150. But something has to give, and something does. I recently bought an Isaac Mizrahi dress from Target. Style and fit? Great. Price? Great. Quality and fabric? Questionable. These clothes are not the stuff of the rich and famous. Nor should they be. For the sake of fashion and design, Cate Blanchett should not (and will never) show up at the Oscars with a Mossimo dress from Target.

Bottom line: Massclusivity will not grant me the opportunity to adorn myself with the luxurious fabrics and unique patterns of high-end designers. That’s what makes high-end designers high-end. And if they ceased to be high-end, where would Charlize Theron shop? But massclusivity will give me the opportunity to find unique designs by talented designers for a very reasonable price. Sure, I may need to replace some buttons and trim some loose threads, but hey, you get what you pay for.

Results and Post Script

I'm sure you all have been on the edge of your seat, waiting for the results of this extremely scientific survey. Wait no more; the results are in:

5% It's important to keep up with the latest developments.
78% I recognize the importance of technological advances but I don't need the hottest gadget.
15% I have what I need to get by.
0% What's wrong with the typewriter and payphone?

Most of us are in the middle, as you would probably expect. While very few of us are lining up to pay $500 for the iPhone, most of us probably do, in fact, have some sort of cell phone. Most of us are trying to keep up with what's out there, what's new, what's popular, but always in the back of our minds, what's practical, what can I afford, what do I really need?

This brings me to my post script: In a conversation with friends last night about technology, the observation was made that more technology doesn't always equal an easier, simplified, more organized life. In fact, none of us knew of anyone whose life was simpler because of more gadgets. After all, don't we end up with more things to repair? More software to update? More systems to upgrade? More email programs to synchronize? More applications to learn? More information stored in multiple places? I'm not saying that technology is never worth some of these hassles. Rather, we need to decide for ourselves which technology is truly beneficial for us, and which is simply peripheral. And I think this explains why the majority of us find ourselves in that second category. We want to be aware of technological advances, but we are constantly filtering out what we deem to be unfavorable for us. Again, we are trying to find that balance between being accessible and productive, and being... well... human.

Addendum

As a follow-up to the previous post (and really because I want to test out this new polling feature), please see the poll to the left and participate as you feel so led. The poll will close at noon next Friday, July 27th. I will be sure to post some resulting conclusions. Thanks!

Phones and Wizards

Within several weeks of each other, two of the most coveted consumer items in the world will have descended on the market: Apple's iPhone and the final installment of Harry Potter. Indeed, people auctioned off themselves to stand in long lines to purchase the iPhone for the highest bidder. I heard of a going rate of $500 on eBay. And at 12:01 am on July 21, 2007, I imagine a similar caliber of lines will form to buy Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. This book has resulted in an unprecedented initial print run of 12 million copies, and retailers are reporting more orders for this book than any other in history. Hats off to Ms. Rowling.

What is incredible to me about these two products is the universality of their appeal. These are not, by any means, exclusively American phenomenons. These products have reached many corners of the earth and are desired by many many people, of many countries, cultures and ages. I cannot imagine what it would be like to create and develop a product that has such a universal human appeal. Cha-ching. Of course, at least in Apple's case, it is not just Apple, Inc. that benefits. Within hours of the iPhone appearing on the shelves, opportunists/wise investors had already disassembled the phone to discover which companies had manufactured its parts. Who doesn't want to rise with the tide?

I find it very interesting that one product has maximized technology to connect with the world in a revolutionary way--anything and everything you could possibly need is literally at your fingertips--while the other product has been extremely successful at allowing people to escape from the world (albeit to enter a completely different one). What does this mean? Nothing, perhaps. But I can't help but think that we are in a limbo that we don't know how to negotiate. To one extent, we are enamored by new technology, always looking for the newest device that will deliver the utmost convenience and accessibility. To the other extent, we desire to escape from it all, to become less available. So what do we do? We bring our cell phones on vacation.

I herald the talent of those behind these products. Technology is good and important. Fictional literature is good and important. Both are necessary. They address different needs and longings of our souls. However, I think we will need to be increasingly judicious in negotiating the line between being wholly connected and accessible and preserving the human need to be unavailable.

Spelling Bee Be Gone?

I heard on the radio yesterday that the Simplified Spelling Society is celebrating its 99th anniversary. I didn't even know that the Society existed, but apparently, its goal is to simplify the spelling of the English language in an attempt to improve literacy among English-speaking people.

According to the Society, "Like all languages with phonetic writing systems, a reform would do away with those wasteful spelling classes for children learning English. The effects of dyslexia are made worse by the chaotic English spelling. The Spelling Bee is unknown in countries with phonetic (or should that not be "fonetic"?) spelling. The updating of English spelling would be of benefit to many more than just the Anglo-Saxon world, but also the world of TEFL where other languages are spoken in addition to English.

"Phonetics is seen as the key to improving literacy and spelling. Learning a phonetic system is easier and allows the children of today to be more productive than we could ever be, releasing them to learn other essential skills in a fast moving world. There would be no more difficult words."

Hmmm... I'm not sure what to think about this. I understand that this is definitely not a new idea. After all, the Society is almost 100 years old. And after further research, I learned that Benjamin Franklin proposed a phonetic spelling system in 1779. So, given the duration and attention this topic has achieved, I suppose we cannot disregard it as irrelevant. But to me it sounds a lot like, "If the test is too hard, make it easier!" Isn't the path to improving literacy one of education? I find it hard to believe that no child ever benefited from all those "wasteful spelling classes". I know that some things will and have changed (i.e.: colour to color), but it's hard to fathom a completely phonetic English language system. I think I'd miss our ph's and nonsensical ough's. Admittedly, I am a native English speaker to whom many of these subtleties have come naturally.

Anyone have any thoughts?

Until we get this all sorted out, here's a comical piece by Mark Twain entitled "A Plan for the Improvement of English Spelling":

For example, in Year 1 that useless letter "c" would be dropped to be replased either by "k" or "s", and likewise "x" would no longer be part of the alphabet. The only kase in which "c" would be retained would be the "ch" formation, which will be dealt with later. Year 2 might reform "w" spelling, so that "which" and "one" would take the same konsonant, wile Year 3 might well abolish "y" replasing it with "i" and Iear 4 might fiks the "g/j" anomali wonse and for all.

Jenerally, then, the improvement would kontinue iear bai iear with Iear 5 doing awai with useless double konsonants, and Iears 6-12 or so modifaiing vowlz and the rimeining voist and unvoist konsonants. Bai Iear 15 or sou, it wud fainali bi posibl tu meik ius ov thi ridandant letez "c", "y" and "x" -- bai now jast a memori in the maindz ov ould doderez -- tu riplais "ch", "sh", and "th" rispektivli.

Fainali, xen, aafte sam 20 iers ov orxogrefkl riform, wi wud hev a lojikl, kohirnt speling in ius xrewawt xe Ingliy-spiking werld.

Bothered?

We need not to be let alone. We need to be really bothered once in a while. How long is it since you were really bothered? About something important, about something real?

-Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451, 1953

It’s easy for me to think about times I’ve been bothered, but usually it’s about trivial things—things I need to get over. But I find myself thinking about the times I’ve been bothered by something important. And I guess as I think about it more, being bothered really isn’t enough. I can easily be bothered by injustice, racism, the failing role of the Church in society, environmental indifference, etc., but it seems to me that what really counts is what we do with our bothered selves. I think I’m pretty quick to make a critical remark, but very slow to act. Admittedly, it’s hard to get to that next stage of action; there are so many distractions, hesitations, fears. How do we strike that balance between becoming an effective, constructive critic of society versus becoming a bitter, career complainer? I think it has to do with recognizing that we can (and should) take some responsibility. But I agree that becoming bothered is the first step. After all, it's hard to know what action to take if we cannot perceive that which is bothersome. But no worries, there should be no shortage of bothersome things anytime soon. I still have some time...

You want to charge me FOR WHAT?

After overhearing many "conversations" I've had with utility companies, banks and various delinquent billing departments, several of my co-workers have said to me on many occasions things like, "Will you call and talk to my telephone company for me?" and "You should be a lobbyist for something... you know, to channel your aggression," and the kicker, "Man, I feel bad for Andrew."

I find myself reflecting on the not too distant past when I seemed to possess a greater tolerance for my fellow workers in the world. I tempered my responses to customer services reps with a series of assumptions and rationalizations that basically amounted to giving them the benefit of the doubt. But it's not so easy any more and I'm trying to figure out why. Have I lost my last shred of patience? Do I have a shorter fuse? While my frustration has definitely been valid at times, I'm realizing that I'm going to have to change my attitude if I don't want to be aggravated for the next 50 years. I've always heard that age brings cynicism. And to be honest, I can see that creeping into my character at times. But I don't want to be cynical. I want to figure out how to age gracefully, to stand my ground when I need to, but to do it with graciousness and understanding. So, I'll keep working on that, and in the meantime, I'll work on getting this charge reversed for a returned mail fee.