Inter-Planetary Weight Watchers

For those of us looking for new and innovative ways to reduce our weight, I may have found the solution: go to another planet!

Check out this cool website which calculates what you would way on each of the planets in our solar system. It will also reveal what you would weigh on the sun (just before you are burnt to a crisp!).

Weight-Watching on Other Planets

Where have you gone, Richard Hofstadter?

A few weeks ago I saw an episode of Baseball Tonight in which the baseball analyst Tim Kurkjian delivered a segment titled "Seamheads." An avowed baseball loyalist Kurkjian created this segment for die-hard baseball fans in which some of the most arcane tidbits of baseball trivia and lore are thrown at the television audience faster than a Stephen Strasburg fastball and with more guile than a Mariano Rivera cutter. As a long-time baseball fan I decided to watch a little bit of the segment. I was stopped cold when Mr, Kurkjian said, "I can't name any of the Supreme Court justices, but I can tell you which players with last names beginning with the letter "A" hit the most home runs." Impressive feat of recollection, but should he be saying this? In a way he is advertising his ignorance, placing it on a pedestal for all to worship. What kind of message is this? It is ok to be ignorant about how our government, our democracy works as long as you can recite obscure baseball stats? This is disappointing and I really wish Mr. Kurkjian had used a different analogy. In that simple sentence he made two declarations: 1) his ignorance and 2) his incredible knowledge of the game. I respect his dedication to baseball and its vaunted history, but in attempting to use humor to make  his point he unwittingly downgraded an important institution in this country and shone a spotlight on a very disturbing tendency in this country: the growing lack of familiarity (sometimes outright disdain) for our historical traditions. Perhaps if he said "I can't name all of the Kardashian sisters, but I can...," the analogy would be much 'cleaner.' In this comparison his baseball acumen would stand on a much higher plateau when compared to the drivel of reality show celebrities. 

I firmly believe that we have become too sports-centric in this country. For those of who read history, this is not knew. The great US historian Richard Hofstadter observed this trend years ago in his book Anti-Intellectualism in American Life. He wrote: "At times the schools of the country seem to be dominated by athletics, commercialism and the standards of the mass media...." He lamented the "cult of athleticism." What would he think now?

Outdated Values

What a week it has been! First we see North Carolinians support Amendment One which banned same-sex marriages and outlawed civil unions, then we see the reactions from, well, reactionaries dismayed that the President of the United States expressed support for same-sex marriages. Now we learn that a very narrow-minded school in Arizona (Our Lady of Sorrows Academy) forfeited a championship high school baseball game because their opponents, Mesa Prep, fielded a female player. School officials, in a written statement, maintained that they did this because 'it would be difficult to maintain proper boundaries' on the field. In other words, they feel that women have no place with men. What a ridiculously small-minded attitude. By doing this they inculcate their students with the belief that women are inferior to men. Sadly, they will grow up believing this.  Shame on Our Lady of Sorrows, for ruining what should have been a beautiful moment.

At least there was some good news this week: Albert Pujols hit his first home run. He almost has as many as I do and I am not even playing!

Taras Shevchenko

What is is about powerful rivers that inspire and provoke poets, literary artists and painters to portray them?  Check out "The Mighty Dnieper" written below by the poet  Taras Shevchenko (1814-1861), who could be considered the Ukrainian version of  Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (1749-1832).

                         
                                 The Mighty Dnieper

The mighty Dnieper roars and bellows,
The wind in anger howls and raves,
Down to the ground it bends the willows,
And mountain-high lifts up the waves. 

The pale-faced moon picked out this moment
To peek out from behind a cloud,
Like a canoe upon the ocean
It first tips up, and then dips down. 

The cocks don't crow to wake the morning,
There's not as yet a sound of man,
The owls in glades call out their warnings,
And ash trees creak and creak again. 

Mark Twain  (1835-1910) was also influenced by the mighty Mississippi River. In the text below he reflects on how he lost his appreciation for the beauty of the river and wonders if others similarly lose their sense and appreciation for beauty: 

"No, the romance and the beauty were all gone from the river. All the value any feature of it had for me now was the amount of usefulness it could furnish toward compassing the safe piloting of a steamboat. Since those days, I have pitied doctors from my heart. What does the lovely flush in a beauty's cheek mean to a doctor but a "break" that ripples above some deadly disease? Are not all her visible charms sown thick with what are to him the signs and symbols of hidden decay? Does he ever see her beauty at all, or doesn't he simply view her professionally, and comment upon her unwholesome condition all to himself? And doesn't he sometimes wonder whether he has gained most or lost most by learning his trade?"

Thank you, Mr. Shevchenko and Mr. Twain. Thanks to you both, I now very much want to see the Dnieper River and the Mississippi River for myself.

Campo di Fiori

This is one of my favorite poems written by the Polish Poet Czesław Miłosz (1911-2004). Enjoy!

Campo di Fiori

In Rome on the Campo di Fiori
Baskets of olives and lemons,
Cobbles spattered with wine
And the wreckage of flowers.
Vendors cover the trestles
With rose-pink fish;
Armfuls of dark grapes
Heaped on peach-down.

On this same square
They burned Giordano Bruno.
Henchmen kindled the pyre
Close-pressed by the mob.
Before the flames had died
The taverns were full again,
Baskets of olives and lemons
Again on the vendors' shoulders.

I thought of the Campo dei Fiori
In Warsaw by the sky-carousel
One clear spring evening
To the strains of a carnival tune.
The bright melody drowned
The salvos from the ghetto wall,
And couples were flying
High in the cloudless sky.

At times wind from the burning
Would driff dark kites along
And riders on the carousel
Caught petals in midair.
That same hot wind
Blew open the skirts of the girls
And the crowds were laughing
On that beautiful Warsaw Sunday.

Someone will read as moral
That the people of Rome or Warsaw
Haggle, laugh, make love
As they pass by martyrs' pyres.
Someone else will read
Of the passing of things human,
Of the oblivion
Born before the flames have died.

But that day I thought only
Of the loneliness of the dying,
Of how, when Giordano
Climbed to his burning
There were no words
In any human tongue
To be left for mankind,
Mankind who live on.

Already they were back at their wine
Or peddled their white starfish,
Baskets of olives and lemons
They had shouldered to the fair,
And he already distanced
As if centuries had passed
While they paused just a moment
For his flying in the fire.

Those dying here, the lonely
Forgotten by the world,
Our tongue becomes for them
The language of an ancient planet.
Until, when all is legend
And many years have passed,
On a great Campo di Fiori
Rage will kindle at a poet's word.

 

Heightism is alive and well

This weekend I returned from a trip to Iowa and I went through the familiar routine of lowering my head to enter a plane and struggling to fit into a seat that was not meant for my 191 cm frame (for those of you too lazy to learn the metric system, that is 6ft 3inches). I often thought it would be funny if someone actually complained about this. In January of this year someone did. Malcolm Johnson, at 6ft 7inches needs his leg room and he filed a complaint against Air Canada citing discrimination in the 'extra leg room fees' they charged. To learn more, check out the article Tall Man Files Lawsuit.

Meet Anita Heiss

 

I met Anita Heiss nearly a decade ago when she came to the US on a tour of colleges and universities as part of the BCA Peace and Justice Lecture Series. At the time I was Program Officer at BCA and I was charged with driving Anita and Michael McDaniel, a professor from Macquarie University to several of the colleges for their speaking engagements.

We spoke about many things but what stood out clearly to me was her passion for indigenous literature/rights and for writing. In Australia she is a nationally renowned author who has written books such as I'm Not Racist, but..., Anthology of Australian Aboriginal Literature (co-written with Peter Minter), Am I Black Enough for you? and Who Am I?: The Diary of Mary Talence, 1937.

Thanks to Anita, I was inspired to see "Rabbit Proof Fence," a movie about the "Stolen Generation"--Aboriginal children taken from their families to be trained to be assimilated into white Australian culture. This is a powerful film, but I will devote a future post to discussing it.

The thing I like about Anita is that she is so dedicated to the causes she believes in. Here are just a few of the:

 The Indigenous Literacy Foundation
National Aboriginal Sporting Chance Academy

I could go on and on, but instead, I will just direct you to Anita's website: www.anitaheiss.com.

First Ever Telephone Prank

These days no one gives much thought to telephones anymore. It is hardly surprising given the plethora of devices to communicate with others. I used to play telephone pranks when I was younger (scroll down), and so I was curious to know when the first practical joke on the phone was made. Voila! Paul Collins, the literary detective, discovered evidence of a phone prank pulled in 1884. Check out the article via this link: First Recorded Evidence of a Prank Phone Call 1884.

Here is telephone prank I played way back in 1994. Since everyone has a cell phone these days, this prank should be considered extinct. I have changed the names to protect the innocent.

Ring, Ring, Ring

TOM answers the phone:  X, it's for you (when in fact the phone call was really for Y)

X (slowly moves to the phone): Hello?

CALLER ON THE PHONE: Y? How are you? I have some items I would like to go over with you.

X: No, this is X....somebody said the phone was for me. (Hangs up when Y picks up the receiver on the other line).

TOM: ..........

X (face red with rage, veins throbbing on his neck): (looks at TOM)... If you ever do that again, I am going to f%%^*&@ kill you!! (dramatically points his index finger at TOM)

James Welch and Naguib Mahfouz

Coincidentally enough, it was while I was without a job when I came across two very good books from authors who really should have received much more recognition from the American literati. Readers shouldn't have to stumble upon these great authors (like I did) but actively search out their works.

James Welch (1940-2003) was a Native American author who has produced some great works and is associated with the Native American Renaissance movement of the 1960s and 1970s. I read his work "The Death of Jim Loney." The title already reveals how the story ends, but Welch does a magnificent job of capturing and portraying the abject desperation and loss of willingness to live that the central character, a Native American, struggles with throughout the book. The sense of despair and resignation is the central theme throughout the book, and Welch does a magnificent job of sustaining this feeling of despondency right to the very ending. I have not read a more moving or depressing novel, but this is a testament to the author's skill at creating an emotional landscape through the use of language. What a book! I really with more people would read this.

Just last month I stumbled upon "The Thief and the Dogs" by Naguib Mahfouz (1911-2006), an Egyptian author won a Nobel Prize for Literature in 1988 and produced a significant number of books, many of which, unfortunately have not been translated into English. In "The Thief and the Dogs" the main character, Said Mahran, a thief, is released from prison and finds a world that has changed; intimate relationships forever altered and a life that he cannot reconcile. He is bent on revenge and like Welch in "The Death of Jim Loney" Mahfouz is excellent in capturing this sentiment, albeit the author uses stream of consciousness as his chief instrument to do this. This is a good book and more people need to read works produced by authors in the Middle East. You can't go wrong starting with Naguib Mahfouz.