Old Notes

Posted on September 19, 2013 by John Swinburn

I make notes to myself.  In the days before I had an iPhone, I’d write the notes in little 3×5″ spiral-bound notebooks I kept in my pocket.

I rarely carry those little notebooks anymore; not because I prefer the iPhone as a repository of notes, but because the spiral coils of metal ruined too many of my pockets.  I miss those notebooks, though.  Sometimes, I give in and put one in my pocket; there’s a certain pleasure a little spiral notebook provides that cannot be replicated by an iPhone’s note “app.” Carrying a note pad and  a pen gives me a sense that my notes have more of a purpose than those electronic reminders I jot to myself; those are erased and forgotten almost before they have the opportunity to become lost treasures.

As I was cleaning my desk the other day, I came across some of my old, well-worn note pads.  My scribbled notes to myself brought back memories, but not all of them.  I’m recording some of those notes here because I know, one day, I will finally allow myself to discard those old notepads; if I don’t record them here, my thoughts from days past will disappear.  By recording them here, their meaninglessness will live on.

  • Peculiar Pub; Bleeker Street
  • Cusqueña Dark; sweetish Peruvian beer
  • Sweet Action; local beer, a bit bitter
  • Sol & Sombra Tapas Restaurant, 10/7/2006…Sopa de ajo, sardines a la plancha, OK, not great
  • “Water” a film; recommended; check into it. Hindi (subtitles?)
  • Azafran; tapas restaurant on Williams Street (?) in Tribeca; Union Square cafe
  • Avery Island…bad experience overall; lousy staff
  • “Chip Butty” on the menu…what is it?
  • Fonio Senegal grain
  • “The Plane Truth: Shift Happens at 35,000 Feet”
  • “The Ridiculous Race” by Steve Hely & Vali Chandrasekaran
  • Poetry makes my soul bleed
  • Measure the Buddha, width and especially height
  • “When Things Fall Apart…” Pema Chödrön
  • “Silver & Ash” CD by Clare (?) Burson?
  • http://mccurtaincountygetaways.com/
  • hypnagogic-period just before sleep
  • 4×8 privacy panel, $19.92
  • Plano African American museum; Douglass Community
  • “Tablet & Pen” poetry about the Middle East
  • texashighways.com
  • “How to Manage Foreclosed Properties,” Craig Collins
  • “Hackers, Crackers, and Fraudsters, Oh My!”
  • “Why Look at Animals?” John Berger–Bookland
  • love is not love which alters when it alteration finds or bends with the remover to remove… (check: would the pronunciation in WS’s time have been as I say, “fixED” or “fixed?”)
  • Unitarian churches; may be a ‘secular’ model worth pursuing
  • Mistakes you can’t fix: death penalty; starting wars; suicide; murder
  • where to learn about municipal wastewater/sewage treatment systems?
  • another welding class at Brookhaven; cost? time?
  • Find Red Cross card; blood type in wallet?
  • Can survivors revoke an individual’s organ donation?
  • call city to request new trash bin/wheel repair; recycling bin OK?
  • How did they make volcanoes erupt at school?  Saltpeter?
  • living for one week as we would have lived 100 years ago, 200 years ago
  • whooping cranes; timing and cost of tours
  • Cuero, TX; Goliad, TX; Refugio, TX; Sinton, TX
  • Espiritu Santo Bay
  • las almas del diablo
  • Oak trees along coast, near Rockport (maybe Jane A knows?)
  • Coolness and stillness of the early morning; pre-sunrise; evokes a primitive longing from the depths of the soul
  • get name of English pub near Kemah…in that area..Duck something?
Posted in Memories | 1 Comment

Copper

Posted on September 18, 2013 by John Swinburn

Old couples hold hands as they walk slowly
down the quiet grey beach, shrouded in mist.
They disappear into the fog, two by two.
Their lives are strands of copper wire,
flexing and bending until there’s nothing left to yield,
no sacrifice yet to make at the altar of love.

Fear grows like kudzu, gnawing at me; I wonder: am I copper?
The love of life flares, fueled by devotion, then flags,
charred by the dying embers buried beneath copper and sand.

Old couples walk down the beach; they don’t walk back.

Posted in Poetry | 1 Comment

Ridin’ the Rails

Posted on September 17, 2013 by John Swinburn

AMTRAKGenericWe’re contemplating another long trip, this time by train. I say “we,” but the contemplation is mostly mine; my wife is indulging my dreamery and allowing as to how she would be OK with the trip if I take care of the logistics, the requisite comfort along the way, and eliminate all elements of stress that might arise as a result of my little flight of fancy. We’ll see how this plays out.

My first thought was that we’d take the Amtrak Texas Eagle out of Dallas, leaving mid-afternoon and wandering through east Texas, Arkansas, Missouri, and through Illinois to Chicago, arriving just before 2:00 pm the following day.  An alternate—which has great appeal to me for sentimental reasons connected to Steve Goodman’s classic folk song make famous by Arlo Guthrie—would be to fly to New Orleans and take the City of New Orleans, leaving the city at 1:45 pm and arriving in Chicago the next morning after stops in Louisiana, Mississippi, Tennessee, Kentucky, and then rolling through the length of Illinois.

Either way, we’d spend a few days in and around Chicago, visiting Geraldine and other people and places we long to see.  When we lived in Chicago, years ago, we loved to drive up to Wisconsin, stopping in Mukwonago at The Elegant Farmer, a country store (a tourist trap, really, but a delightful one) at the end of an electric trolley line that starts in East Troy, Wisconsin. We’d see the sights and listen to the sounds of Chicago, too, but the communities a day-trip away, places in Wisconsin and Michigan and Indiana, have as much appeal to me as the city…though I do want to see and experience Chicago again.

Once we’d spent all the energy and money we could afford to spend there, we’d head out on the next phase of our trip, leaving on the Lakeshore Limited at around 9:30 p.m., rolling through Indiana and Ohio during the night. Day would break as we pass through western Pennsylvania, somewhere around Erie, and then we’d watch the world go by as we make stops in Buffalo, and Rochester and Syracuse…maybe we’d stop there to visit with Teresa…and Utica and Schnectady and so forth, on into Massachusetts where we would arrive in Boston late in the evening, around 9:30 p.m., to see Carol if she’s up for a visit.

Then, back on the Lakeshore Limited for the rest of the trip to New York City, where we’d spend a few days, perhaps getting together with Larry for lunch and conversation. New York is a beastly expensive place for tourists, and we are frugal to a fault, so we’d probably leave on our trip south after just a day or two or three, getting on the Crescent at Penn Station about 2:15 p.m. and wandering down through Philadelphia, Washington, D.C., and Charlotte, getting to Atlanta the next morning around 8:00 a.m. Then, on through Birmingham and the rest of Alabama, wandering through Mississippi during the afternoon and arriving, finally, in New Orleans about 7:30 p.m., just in time for dinner.

There’s no convenient way to get from New Orleans to Dallas on Amtrak, so we’d probably finish the trip by flying back into Dallas the next morning.

The downside to train travel in the U.S., aside from limited availability and unfriendly schedules, is the fact that “sleeping” accommodations on Amtrak are miserably uncomfortable and obscenely expensive. The cost of basic travel, meaning decent reclining seats, is not at all unreasonable…much cheaper than by air.  That being said, the trip we’re contemplating would require us to “sleep” only one night at a time in our seats.  I’ve been looking at a 30-day USA Rail Pass, which allows up to 12 travel segments in a 30 day period (from the date of first travel), for $669 per person…equivalent to two round-trip flights by air, if you’re lucky and get non-refundable tickets.

Of course, it takes a lot more time…but it provides opportunities to see a lot more of the USA at relatively close-range than does flying at 35,000 feet after subjecting oneself to unnecessary and invasive infringements of one’s personal space.

I’d like to take the Sunset Limited route west to California, too, and then the Coast Starlight from Los Angeles to Seattle.  But that will be another time.  The loop I’m planning now may well happen soon…or maybe not.  We’ll see.

Needless to say, our plans to sell our house and move to a more hospitable climate are being held in abeyance at the moment; they WILL be executed, just not quite yet.

Posted in Friendship, Travel | 2 Comments

So Many Places with Potential…

Posted on September 16, 2013 by John Swinburn

My recently renewed enthusiasm about third places (see this, this, this, and this) has led me to do more research about “great good places.”

That research has opened my eyes to my myopia about places I’ve lived, places I’ve long since written off as stark, inhuman casualties of poor urban planning and narrow-minded, greed-driven development.  I’ve learned places I condemned and abandoned years ago as lost causes have begun to rebuild themselves and, in some cases, have become models of urban rebirth.

It’s ironic: I too often engage in diatribes condemning people for failing to open their minds to new information beyond their own narrow experience and points of view, yet I’ve done exactly that at the same time I scolded others.

I’m embarrassed to admit my own narrow-mindedness, but I’m delighted that there may be reason for hope; so many places buried under vast mountains of idiotic municipal bureaucracy and rigid governmental control and mismanagement are starting to emerge as places where people might actually want to live.

The links below show some intriguing sources of hope for the future of cities in Texas like Dallas, Houston, Fort Worth, and Corpus Christi.  Houston, which has engaged in a very large number of “place-making” activities in recent years, was named Fast Company’s City of the Year for 2011.  When I left Houston in 1985, after eight miserable years,  I vowed I would never live there again…and I probably won’t.  But reading about what’s been done with that city and several others since then opens my eyes; cities, too, can change.

Dallas/Oak Cliff Houston
Corpus Christi San Antonio

When I’ve returned to Houston since I moved away in 1985, I’ve taken with me an attitude of loathing and closed-mindedness that has prevented me from even exploring what might have changed. That attitude didn’t have an impact on Houston; it had an impact on me. While I don’t excuse my close-mindedness, it does tell me something important: the negative attributes of a city, or any place for that matter, can leave a lasting and deeply negative impression.  So it’s critically important for planners and developers and citizens at large to always look toward improvement and, especially, to look toward making their cities good places to live.

Most of the links in this post (maybe all of them) are to articles posted on the website of the Project for Public Spaces.  In just a few short hours of reading about and then exploring the PPS website, I have become a fan of the site and the vast amount of information and resources it offers.

One final bit of valuable information and advice I found terrifically invigorating was this: Twenty-Six Ways to Make Great Spaces.  I eat this stuff up!  And, finally, more thought-provoking advice from Fast Company magazine.

Posted in Architecture, Demographics, Essay, Housiing, Third Place, Urban planning | Leave a comment

Building Community, One Third Place at a Time

Posted on September 14, 2013 by John Swinburn

Yesterday, I went to a nearby branch of the Dallas Public Library to pick up a book I’d requested, Celebrating the Third  Place: Inspiring Stories about the “Great Good Places” at the Heart of Our Communities. I haven’t finished the book yet, but I’ve read enough to become enamored of several of the places described in the stories I’ve read: Annie’s Gift and Garden Shop in Amherst, Massachusetts; The Third Place Coffee House in Raleigh, North Carolina; Crossroads in Lake Forest Park, Washington; Horizon Books in Traverse City, Michigan; Old Saint George in Cincinnati, Ohio; and Square One Restaurant in San Francisco, California.  The book was published in 2001; some of these may places no longer exist (Square One doesn’t); what is important to me is that they did exist and that they met a need, a longing, for a place where people could find community and camaraderie and acceptance.

The concept of The Third Place has had deep appeal for me ever since I learned of Ray Oldenburg’s book, The Great Good Place.  In fact, I’ve been interested in the concept since long before I learned of Oldenburg’s book, but Oldenburg gave the idea a name, an identity.  Here, in a nutshell, are the characteristics of a Third Place:

It is neutral.  No one is obligated to be there and there is no financial tie to the place.
Conversation is a key activity, though not necessarily the only one.  The Third Place is a place people come to talk and to listen.
It is accessible and accommodating, easy to be there and get there.
There are plenty of regulars who spend time there, people who serve as hosts or guides to those new to the environment.
The Third Place is low key, relaxed, absent pretense. Everyone can feel comfortable.
The atmosphere is relaxed, the mood is playful.
It is warm, comfortable, and homey. It is a home away from home.

In the foreword to Celebrating the Third Place, Oldenburg says something about the need for third places, something I think would resonate with most of us:

We may not need third place association to build a town hall anymore, but we sorely need it to construct the infrastructure of human relationships. Ever since the solidifying efforts of World Ward II passed into history, Americans have been growing further apart from one another. Lifestyles are increasingly privatized and competitive; residential areas are increasingly devoid of gathering places. To the extent of our affluence, we avoid public parks, public playgrounds, public schools, and public transportation. (Emphasis is mine.)

I think Oldenburg nailed a key contributor to the growing isolation we feel in our society: our own success, our own affluence, is silently smothering our sense of community.  Why go to a public park when we can create a park-like setting in our own back yard?  Why take children to a public playground when we can entertain children with big-screen television and video games?  Why take public transportation when we can enjoy the convenience and luxury of our own cars?  Increasingly, we are choosing convenience over experience. Our own financial success is shredding our social fabric.  We associate only with those of like socio-economic status, sacrificing the intellectual and emotional growth and understanding that can and does occur when we truly become part of a community.

Oldenburg says something else in the foreword that gave me pause. He said: “Our society, alas, has become much like Tocqueville’s homeland, in which governmental agencies are expected to do whatever needs doing. Yet what government does is done remotely and impersonally; its focus is on our weaknesses and dependencies and its policies define us accordingly.” Given my very, very strong sense that government should do what needs doing, I initially reacted negatively to that idea.  But it occurs to me that often I want government to step in because the private sector does not, at least not in consistent, dependable ways.  The private sector–our community–is abandoning us and I am asking government to step in to do the job that “we” fail to do for ourselves.  I will not stop asking government to do that…I believe government should step in when “we” can’t or won’t do what should be done to ensure our society is just.  But, ultimately, I would prefer that we Americans work to reshape our society into one that is more democratic, caring, and cohesive.  That’s why I find the third place so appealing.

I’ve written several times about the third place, about wanting to create a third place where I live (wherever that ends up…we still don’t know where and when).  I know I can’t do it by myself and, in fact, I don’t want to; that would be anathema to the idea!  But I know I want to be a part of creating such a “place” whenever and wherever we “land” in  a place we can call home.  The idea is always on my mind. I’m always, always thinking about it.  Whenever I find a place with some of the characteristics of a third place, I find myself getting excited about it and I want to talk to the people involved in making the place what it is.  But I am well aware of the fact that there are plenty of imitators, people who create places that are meant to look like, but in fact are not really, a true third place.  So I always temper my excitement with a dose of skepticism.  Maybe that’s anathema to the concept, too, but I can’t help myself.  I want to find, and talk to, people who drank the koolaid, people whose interest in creating and sustaining a third place is more about community than about money.  And I’m always on the lookout for people who are willing to talk about and, perhaps, ultimately risk their own time and money, to create a third place.

I won’t tire of talking and writing about this.  One day. One day…

Posted in Third Place | Leave a comment

The Death of Libraries

Posted on September 13, 2013 by John Swinburn

Photo courtesy of Parents Coalition of Montgomery County, MD.

Many of us take libraries for granted.  We think they always will be there.  Always.  Whether we frequent them or not, whether we support them or not, whether we defend them or not, libraries always will be there. Would that it were certain; would that it were a birthright, a guarantee.  But it’s not.

When I was a kid, I went to the library fairly often, ostensibly to study but in reality to meet my friends and goof off.  I didn’t know then, or maybe I knew but didn’t really grasp, that my community provided the library as a service, in the hope that its patrons would use it as a learning resource.  Back then, I didn’t realize the extent to which, in my house, the library was far more important than the church could ever be.  It was a place to explore ideas, a place where knowledge grew, an important birthplace of wisdom.

I’m sure my parents knew I often wasn’t using the library in the way it was intended.  But I suspect they reasoned that, by giving me proximity to knowledge and ideas and intellectual stimulation and by seeing how others used the library as a resource, at least a bit of it would rub off.  I hope it did.  I think it did.  Now, many years later, as I watch libraries struggle to survive, I realize libraries are, to many people, the “third place” with which I’ve become so enamored.

Libraries are welcoming places.  Everyone in a library is on equal footing.  Financial and social standing are irrelevant in libraries.  Race and ethnicity are ignored in libraries. It doesn’t matter whether libraries are evolving into internet resource centers with a few books thrown in for good measure.  All that matters is this: libraries are places in which communities demonstrate the extent to which they care.  They care about knowledge.  They care that people in the community have a place to go, a place where they are an integral part of the community.  They care enough to say, without saying it aloud, “you don’t need money to be important here…you just need curiosity.”

But I’m afraid libraries are dying.  Many people question the need for libraries, now that information is so readily accessible online.  Why invest in paper and the space needed to store it when the information is available 24/7 via computer?  Why pay librarians to babysit kids when nanny-cams are so much cheaper?  My answer is this: libraries are good investments because they foster curiosity and community and they reward, in tangible and intangible ways, intellectual exploration.  It doesn’t matter whether it’s a book or a keyboard and a screen; what matters is that it’s an environment that shows the community supports curiosity and the pursuit of knowledge.

Communities sacrifice libraries because they are too easy to sacrifice.  In the most well-to-do communities, libraries are sacrificed to affluence.  People don’t need libraries to get access to books; they can buy what they want at Barnes & Noble or download the latest best-seller to their Kindles.  But they are sacrificing community!  They are rewarding the isolation that accompanies that sought-after affluence.  And in poor communities, libraries are sacrificed to streets and police and fire protection; when affluence is held at bay by people with iPads, choices must be made.

I have no answers.  I only hope the collective “we” wakes up soon enough to realize that killing libraries is murder by suicide.  When we become sufficiently alone, communicating only through the internet, maybe our longing for human contact will burst forth in such a way as to save institutions like libraries from death.

It’s coincidental that, as I was writing this, I got a notice from my nearby library branch that a book I’d requested, Celebrating the Third Place : Inspiring Stories About the “Great Good Places” at the Heart of Our Communities, has come in an is ready for me to pick up. In view of what I’ve just written, when I pick up the book, I think I’ll stay awhile at the library and soak in the environment.

Posted in Books, Libraries, Third Place | 4 Comments

Doing Without Alcohol: Alternative Addictions?

Posted on September 12, 2013 by John Swinburn

IcedTeaMaker

My perception of my year of doing without is changing.  My casual experiment is having unexpected results.  I’m thinking of things I didn’t allow myself to think before I started this.

This is my month for doing without alcohol.  Iced tea is its replacement.  If one looked strictly at the amount of iced tea I’ve been drinking, the assumption might be there’s a lot to replace.  During these last eleven-plus days, I’ve consumed massive quantities of iced tea.  Of course, I consumed massive quantities of iced tea before the month began, as well, so it’s hard to say I’ve “replaced” alcohol with tea.

Actually (and fortunately), it has not been particularly challenging.  Though I find myself missing a beer or a stiff drink from time to time, I do not find it hard to avoid drinking alcoholic beverages.  But I notice now that I had a habit with alcoholic drinks similar to my now obvious habit with tea; I am not satisfied with just nursing a glass…I like having an available source at the ready and quickly replace the glass once empty.  The difference is that I drink iced tea pretty much around the clock, whereas I never had a beer before lunch time and didn’t have a mixed drink until after five.  With tea, I can throw caution to the wind.

I’m back to drinking coffee in the mornings, but typically I limit myself to a cup or two. Shortly after that injection of caffeine, though, I’m back to tea.  I should mention, the tea I drink is caffeine-free; my wife has long since limited our intake of caffeine by buying caffeine-free tea bags.

Like my coffee, I take my tea straight; no milk, no sugar…occasionally, I’ll squeeze a bit of lemon or lime into a glass, but that practice has been on the decline for quite some time. I suppose I’m a purist when it comes to imbibing; I don’t like to disguise flavors…if I have to trick my taste buds into drinking something, my subconscious mind must be saying, I shouldn’t be drinking the stuff at all.

Until fairly recently, keeping up with our household demand for tea was very, very challenging. For years, we had an old two-quart Mr. Coffee iced tea maker that operated much like a drip coffee maker.  It had a brew basket in which to place a few large tea bags, a water reservoir, a pump which pumped water from the reservoir through a heating chamber into the brew basket, and a two-quart pitcher which was to be partially filled with ice before starting the brewing process. Two quarts of tea did not last long around the tea-sippers in this house.  When the old Mr. Coffee brewer died, we bought the largest replacement we could find, a three-quart version of the original, updated slightly to reflect changes in taste (visual, not literal).  It operates on the same principle as the old one; it just makes one and a half times as much tea.  The fifty-percent increase in capacity reduced the challenge; now, it’s just very (we lost one “very”) challenging to keep pace with demand.  We almost always make at least two pitchers each day, and sometimes finish both. That’s six quarts of iced tea between the two of us.  At least we’re getting plenty of water, I suppose.

All right.  Enough of the smug, smirky stuff.  Time to get serious about this.  Really.

My purpose in doing without has been, and is, to test the limits of my discipline.  Do I have the discipline to do without things I do not need, but merely want or enjoy?  I’m learning I do have the capacity to do without.  At the same time, it seems I’m not asking much of myself so far.  Coffee?  Alcohol?  And next month, meat?  How hard did I think it would be to “give up” such things?  I’m questioning, now, whether this test of my discipline is just a charade.

But these very questions are teaching me things about myself that, if I knew, I had long since buried.  The experiences, and the disappointment I’m feeling in myself for having thought I would actually be “testing” myself, are exposing things in me that are easier for me to understand than to explain.  But I’ll try, anyway, for my own benefit…to test my ability.

The first clue I got…finally, which may well have been obvious to everyone but me…was that I was looking for replacements.  Could it have been any more obvious?  I have not been “doing without” anything; I have been replacing one addiction with another.  Last month, I replaced coffee with walking (well, not so much…I used tea last month, too).  I am replacing alcohol with tea this month. My plan next month is to replace meat with more vegetables. The following month, I plan to replace social media with silent meditation. How is my scheme anything other than planned alternative addictions?

My frame of mind about “doing without” must change.   I doubt I can do myself any good simply by substituting one set of addictions (wants/desires) with another.  I’m not planning on giving up tea, but I shouldn’t view tea as a substitute for alcohol, any more than I should view vegetables as a substitute for meat.  To trick myself into believing I’m giving something up by substituting something in its place would be an exercise in idiocy. I’m not perfect, by any means, but I’m no idiot.

And, so, I am learning about myself.   Thus far, I’ve learned about some of the flaws that form the bedrock of who I am. I’ve learned that much in relatively short order.  Maybe there’s more to learn…I’d like to think so.  Real learning has consequences; changes in understanding, changes in behavior, changes in the way one perceives the world in which one lives.  So, if I’m really learning something, there must be consequences.  I’ve not yet sorted that out in my mind.  What will be—should be—the consequences of what I’m learning about myself?

The goal of this exercise shouldn’t be to reinvent myself; that’s a fairy tale with a deadly ending, I think.  It should be to unveil myself to myself and to adjust accordingly.

My plan for my year of doing without is apt to change, radically, before all’s said and done. What began as a somewhat vacuous exercise in intellectual self-indulgence may well turn into something with meaning and, ultimately, value.  We shall see.

Posted in Doing Without, Self-discipline | 6 Comments

Columbus, IN…Who Knew?

Posted on September 9, 2013 by John Swinburn

Some knew.  I did not.  I had no idea.  Because I was uniformed.  Uneducated.  I was the poster boy for architectural ignorance.  Now, I’m on my way to enlightenment.  The first step, they say, is to recognize the problem.  My problem was I had no idea that Columbus, Indiana was an architecturally significant city.  While there are some relatively “old” buildings in the city (a city of only about 45,000 people), most of the most significant architecture, and public art, came to be after the chairman of Cummins Engines (J. Irwin Miller) offered to pay the architectural fees for a new school for the city, provided he could pick five architects from which the city could then select one.  That opened the door to a devotion to architecture that continues today.  Several Pritzger Prize winners have done work in Columbus, including Kevin Roche, I.M. Pei, Robert Venturi, and Richard Meier.

Though we spent the better part of a day and a half in Columbus, we saw only a fraction of the art and architecture.  We didn’t, for example, go into the J. Irwin Miller home; the tours were booked.  We didn’t go inside many of the buildings we wandered past, only because there just wasn’t enough time.

My limited photographic skills, coupled with the limited capabilities of my cheesy little iPhone and iPad cameras, do not do justice to the architecture of Columbus, IN, so this post will rely heavily on links to the work of professionals.  The links are worth a look:

Miller House by Eero Saarinen, Dwell Magazine
Miller House by Eero Saarinen, New Republic Magazine
Architecture of Columbus, CVB links to significant architecture in Columbus
Second Street Bridge, Image from City of Columbus
University Center for Art and Design, Columbus (photo courtesy of Columbus Area Visitors Center)
Public Art in Columbus, CVB links to art of Columbus
Architects With Work in Columbus, CVB link

Below are photos I snapped while wandering around and about in Columbus. Click on the image to enlarge it.

Ohio_ATTSwitch Ohio_ATTSwitch_Church Ohio_BookEarth Ohio_Chaos Ohio_Chaos2 Ohio_ChBuld Ohio_ChihulyCircle Ohio_ChihulyCVB Ohio_ChihulyHanging Ohio_ChildrenPlay Ohio_Christian_Inside2 Ohio_ChristianChurch Ohio_ChristianInside2 Ohio_ChurchTall Ohio_ChurchWindows Ohio_Contrastic Ohio_Contrasts Ohio_CumminsEngine Ohio_CumminsHQ Ohio_Disraeli Ohio_OldGlobe Ohio_SchoolFront Ohio_SchoolSHot Ohio_SelfMadeMan Ohio_Steeple Ohio_StreetScene Ohio_UnivHallway

Posted in Architecture, Art | Leave a comment

Finding Places–Ohio and Beyond

Posted on September 8, 2013 by John Swinburn

We started the trip on Tuesday, August 27, around 11:30 a.m.  We had planned to start it Monday (and before Monday, Sunday and Saturday and the week before…but never mind), but decided for a variety of reasons that we should hit the road on Tuesday.  But not before I mowed, edged, trimmed, put out some garden soil, and gave the tomato plants just a bit more water in preparation for their week-plus period of neglect in high temperatures.  So, after a shower, throwing some clothes and such into a suitcase, and turning up the thermostat to save electricity, we hit the road.

We got as far as Sulphur Springs before stopping for lunch at the San Remo Restaurant, an Italian spot in a town I would have thought unlikely to house an Italian restaurant.  It wasn’t bad at all.  But we weren’t there to judge, just to stoke ourselves for the trip, so after an order of eggplant parmesiana (my wife) and an order of spaghetti with Italian sausage (me), we hit the road.

There was talk along the way of driving all the way to Memphis the first night, but I didn’t sleep much the night before and, as previously mentioned, worked myself hard that morning, so that talk tailed off into where to stop in Little Rock.

We got to Little Rock just after 6:00 p.m.  I  had wanted to stop at the Flying Saucer to log a beer or two, but after finding that it was in the heart of downtown and having no success at finding a room at downtown hotels (all booked), I begrudgingly decided to forego the stop. Instead, we opted to cross over into North Little Rock, where we reasoned we could find cheaper and more readily available lodging.  We had pulled into a rest area not far west of Little Rock and checked online for prices and availability and ended up going for a Best Western, which I was able to get free by trading in 16,000 frequent-stayer points, leaving me a balance of only 5,000 points, which will be useless unless I add to them by staying at Best Western.  We shall see.

Anyway, we got settled in the Best Western, the address for which was not North Little Rock, but Sherwood, AR.  Then, we went in search for food, selecting a nearby Mexican restaurant called Casa Mexicana. What was I thinking?!  The margarita I ordered was made from a bad, and probably very old, mix.  Though it cost only $3.50, I couldn’t help but think the place could have charged twice and much, and gotten it, if they simply used lime juice, tequila, and triple sec.  The food was edible; I assume it was the Arkansas version of bad Tex-Mex…tolerable, but only barely.

The next morning, we partook of the Best Western’s “hot breakfast,” which consisted of a sausage biscuit and available gravy, the latter of which we opted to leave in the bowl. There were other options, including a few crumbs of scrambled eggs, make your own waffles (no, thanks), and some yoghurt and bananas and apples.  We opted for the biscuit and some yoghurt; I snagged a banana and, for the road, an apple.  Then, off to Memphis.

B.B. King Statue, Memphis Visitor Center

We got to Memphis relatively early, maybe 10:00 a.m., and drove directly to the visitors center downtown, on the riverfront. The most notable thing, upon entering the visitor center, were the two large statues: B.B. King and Elvis Presley.  Impressive, they were.

After picking up brochures about things to see and do, we walked a few blocks and paid to ride to the monorail to the Mud Island River Park, where we visited the museum (my wife was impressed…me, not so much). There were a few interesting aspects to the museum, including a larger-than-life figure of Mark Twain, someone who has always impressed me…so I took his picture. ohio-twain We walked the museum, then walked the riverfront park a ways (which includes an impressive concrete re-creation of the entire Mississippi River, a part of which is shown in the photo)OhioMSRiver, we walked back across the street and train tracks to catch a trolley to the part of downtown Memphis where we could find a restaurant I’d been advised to visit, Charles Vergos’ Rendezvous Restaurant. ohio-rendevIt’s an old, established Memphis institution, venerated as home to a tradition of dry-rubbed ribs cooked over direct heat, not smoked.  When I asked the hostess (who we learned later is an owner) for seats for two for lunch, she said “We aren’t open for lunch, but if you want some ribs and beans and slaw, we’re here making them anyway so you’re welcome to come in if that would be OK…and if this is your first visit, then that’s what you want, anyway.”  ohioribsWe thought this was an odd way to great customers, but agreed.  It turns out this is all they serve midday on weekdays.  I was perfectly happy with my half order of ribs, though I prefer smoked ribs.  My wife found them acceptable, but not noteworthy. While there, though, I had a beer I’d never had before, a Ghost River Golden Ale, which was a nice, light beer suitable for hot weather and barbeque.

After lunch, we ambled over to the Memphis Flying Saucer so I could see how it compares to the two outlets I’ve been to in the Dallas area; it compared favorably. I drank a Green Flash Brewing Company Saison Diego, a very nice saison.

From there, we walked to the Civil Rights Museum, which was in the midst of a great deal of renovation (the Lorraine Motel display, across the street, is being remodeled to offer a better experience, they say) and in the midst of festivities to celebrate the 50th anniversary of Dr. Martin Luther King’s famous “I Have a Dream” speech, which he delivered in Washington, DC on August 28, 1963.  OhioLorraineThe museum was excellent!  I was impressed with the way the history and all the questions surrounding Dr. King and the Civil Rights Movement were handled. It was among the best museum exhibits I’ve seen in a long time.

After visiting the museum, we got back on a trolley to go to our car, which we’d left parked in the visitor center lot (at their suggestion).  I got my iPad, went into the visitor center again, and we searched for places to stay.  We ended up finding a place in East Memphis, using Hotwire, that was a very good value…$74 including tax…and a particularly nice room. A huge desk stretched across one wall, with ample knee space over the entire wall, two lamps, lots of electric outlets (but they didn’t all work), very large flat-screen television, king bed, fridge, microwave, very nice bathroom…a deal!

OhioPasta OhioNotPasta OhioMartiniAll the moving and unpacking got us feeling hungry, so my wife did some research and found Buckley’s Fine Filet Grill, which also is said to be a Memphis institution, a big favorite with locals. My wife ordered the Bourbon Street Chicken, which was identified as one of the “100 things to eat in Memphis before you die” by the Commercial Appeal. I tasted it.  The Commercial Appeal made the right call on this one; it was incredibly good! I had something called Kickin Shrimp Pasta, which was good but not NEARLY as good as the Bourbon Street Chicken. That dish is served with Cajun jambalaya and smothered with Creole crawfish sauce.  It’s worth a trip to Memphis.   Oh, I ordered a dry gin martini; it came, with three large olives, to lure me into happiness.  That’s where I stayed all evening.

Next day, we left about 10 a.m. for Elizabethtown, KY.  We stopped for lunch in Jackson, Tennessee, first attempting to join the crowd at Casey Jones, a deep geezerville version of Cracker Barrell.  The ineffective crowd control of geezers gone wild caused us to try, instead, another unappealing place, O’Charley’s.  I ordered a burger, which they delivered without lettuce, tomatoes, or anything else normally associated with a burger, but they brought them after I asked about the dry, ugly, and lonely slab of meat the waitress had delivered to the table.  My wife ordered a fish sandwich with sweet potato fries, accompanied by something their too-slick menu ballyhooed as exceptional: frozen strawberry lemonade. A waitress (not the one serving us) near us showed visible signs of deep frustration when a foursome spilled a glass of tea and asked for napkins to clean it up. Her eye-rolling and clenched jaw set me off a bit; I said to her, loudly enough so she and anyone else nearby could hear, “It’s your job; get over it!”  She studiously avoided eye contact with me for the remainder of the meal.  I know; I should chill…but her attitude suggested she should be fired and then fried.

We stayed at the Best Western Atrium Gardens in Elizabethtown, KY.  The room had a huge whirlpool tub, which we took full advantage of; we both jumped in and enjoyed it, as we sat facing one another in the vast pulsating pool that night.  OhioIndianBut before soaking in the tub, we had dinner at Namaste, an Indian restaurant very close by.  Both of us were pleasantly surprised at the quality of the food.  I had goat vindaloo and my wife had lamb patia, both of which were excellent.  Then, the next morning (Friday) we headed out, bound for Louisville and Kettering.

OhioSluggerOhioGaltOhio-Louisville_fourthWhen we arrived in Louisville, we parked in the “museum row” parking, then ambled down Main, taking in things like a giant Louisville Slugger bat that’s several stories tall. We were impressed with the many pieces of public art along Main, on display among a number of architecturally interesting old buildings and some newer ones like the Muhammed Ali center. OhioIceCreaMWe walked to Fourth Street, part of which is enclosed (see photo), wandered down to view the “hot spots” on Fourth, went into the Galt House Hotel, wandered through Worldfest on the Belvedere, then drove to Homemade Ice Cream and Pie Kitchen Deli, where we had lunch, followed by some mocha chip ice cream and a piece of cherry pie.

After the nice respite in Louisville, we drove toward Kettering.  Before we reached our destination, though, we experienced the horrors of pre-Labor Day Friday afternoon rush hour traffic as we drove through Cincinnati.  We got to our destination in Kettering (the home of my nephew and niece) about 5:15 p.m.  We sat and talked for quite some time, then went off to dinner at Siam Pad Thai, one of their favorite restaurants.  We had a wonderful meal and great conversation; it was a marvelously relaxing way to end a long, but enjoyable, drive from Texas to Ohio.

The next morning (Saturday), my niece made an excellent European breakfast of bread, sliced meat, tomatoes, cucumbers, and assorted other good stuff.  Then, we headed to the Second Street Market in Dayton, where there were dozens and dozens of stalls of veggies, crafts, bread, spices, etc., etc.  Not being “collectors” of stuff to look at, we instead bought something of practical value: low salt beef bouillion powder.

OhioPolloAjiOhio_MKNext up, my niece took the wheel and drove to Yellow Springs, a truly interesting and quite funky town nearby. First off, we had lunch at Williams Eatery, an American and Peruvian restaurant.  I had aji de pollo and my wife had a dish called pollada, which was a grilled chicken. My food had “eyes” and and made a face at me with hard boiled eggs and olives.  My nephew and his lovely wife enjoyed their food, too; and they enjoyed one another’s company!

OhioJKBBenchOhioTavernSignThen, we walked around around the village, stopped in at several shops, and enjoyed the atmosphere.  There are lots of “hippie” shops with incense, mystical writings, and so forth, and some interesting public artwork, including a ceramic tiled bench, where my favorite wife posed for me.  We had a couple of beers (including a Komodo Dragonfly) at Ye Old Trail Tavern, a place that was built in 1827…the oldest house in the village.

Ohio-DowntownAfter our visit to Yellow Springs, we headed back to Dayton, where we spent time walking around the downtown residential section (the Oregon District).  I was astounded to see a number of nice stone and brick single-family homes and duplexes (all right on the street, much like the old-town sections of Chicago) for sale at remarkably low prices (e.g., $189,000 for a 3-2 home with a pool(!) in the back).  We need to know more!

Next, it was off for more ice cream, then to pick up a few items at the grocery store

Then, ice cream at a place whose name I forgot, then to grocery store for a few items including more beer.  Back home, we had freshly made guacamole and sat and talked for hours.  My nephew and I debated capitalism, religion, motives, politics, humanitarianism, humanity….the full range!   Finally, the two of us joined our respective wives in bed at 1:30 in the morning.

Ohio_TowerOhioKMTreeI woke up on Sunday at just before 7.  I took a shower, shaved, and got busy jotting notes about our experiences so far.  When everyone was up, my nephew made us breakfast of migas, then we headed out to visit the arboretum, a beautiful, peaceful place with lots of trails and gorgeous scenery, including a tall viewing tower (here, I’m taking a photo of my wife from closer to the top of the tower…K&M are contemplating how to get the tree out of the ground and into the back of their car).

After the arboretum, we went shopping at Sam’s and then to a roadside fruit & veggie stand for goodies.  The evening was spent at the home of my nephew’s mother (my brother’s ex-wife) and her husband for dinner. We talked about their amazingly noisy cat and how and where and when to retire.  Back at K&M’s apartment, we discussed the architecture of  Frank Lloyd Wright before heading to bed at 11:30.

The evening before, my niece made an incredibly wonderful appetizer of a trout spread lathered on fresh bread.  In the morning, we had the leftover trout spread (which I have decided may be one of my favorite foods), along with fresh pineapple, fresh raspberries, and expresso.  It was heavenly!

OhioSpinachThen, we took a long walk all around the neighborhood, looking longingly at houses for sale; from my perspective, the prices were incredibly low, with 3-1 houses going for $50K to $109K.  Back home, we had a late lunch/snack of spinach pie and cucumber/tomato salsa. The spinach pie was something like magic wonderfulness…I’ve had something like it before, but never exactly like this and never nearly as good; I must make it myself one day, when I am energetic and hungry for something tasty and good for me…today, perhaps!

Then, more wandering…looking at houses from the outside, marveling at how green the area was and how lush it looked early in September.  We stopped for coffee at Boston Stoker at Washington Square; the place is what Starbucks wanted to be…a serene, roomy, inviting, comfortable place that serves good, good coffee.  I had a plain iced coffee (I had succeeded in going a month without coffee, so now it legitimate for me to have some) and we relaxed and talked and enjoyed the atmosphere.

After brief stop at Trade Joe’s, we went back home and had a dinner of Mayan Couscous; it was extraordinarily good and, I am sure, good for us!  We relaxed and talked a bit more before going early to bed, as my nephew had to get to work early the next day and my wife and I had to hit the road.

I awoke early on Tuesday, September 3 as my nephew was getting ready to go to work.   I stayed up, then my wife got up a bit later, then my niece.  She made us breakfast of bread, cheese, pineapple, sliced ham, sliced tomatoes, and coffee.  After breakfast, we packed and hit the road about 10:30 a.m.

We drove down 75 to 275 just outside Cincinnatti, then around 275 east to Jungle Jim’s, an amazing food and foodie store…it’s an incredible place.  The photos don’t do the place justice…I’ve never seen anything like it!

OhioJungl2Ohio_Jungl1OhioJungl8 OhioBeerOhioJungl9OhioJungl7 OhioJungl6 OhioJungl5OhioJungl4

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Something I found and bought, but didn’t capture with a camera, is an item I’ve been after for months: blind robbins!  Blind robbins are lightly smoked and highly salted herring that are used as bar snacks in some parts of the country.  When I saw them, I instantly knew I had to buy them.  I ate one when we got out to the car…it was salty in the extreme!  But tasty.  I wrapped the remainder in the cellophane wrap they came in and put them in a cooler in the trunk.  Only 40 miles later, when I decided to see how they were doing and whether they were staying cool (these required refrigeration), I was overwhelmed by the odor…they hadn’t gone bad, but they would soon have rendered the car unusable and impossible to sell when the time comes, so I reluctantly got rid of them.

We stopped at Whisky’s in  Lawrenceburg, Indiana for lunch, where I had a cod sandwich with chips and my wife had a meatloaf special, served with peanut cole slaw.  None of the food was remarkable, but the peanut cole slaw was photo-worthy: OhioPeanutSlaw

Back on the road, we continued down Highway 50 to North Vernon, then veered to the north toward Columbus, IN, where we stopped early for the night.  It’s an architectural mecca.  I’ll write an entire new post about Columbus, IN and the architecture and art that make it an amazingly sophisticated place, especially for a community of only 45,000 people.

We ate dinner that night at Papa’s Grill; a bison burger for me, lemon almond chicken salad for my wife.  We went downtown to check out the old fashioned soda found; my wife had a Green River soda and I had butter pecan ice cream at the place,  Zaharakos ice cream parlor and museum. We stayed overnight…and the next night…in the Courtyard by Marriott.  The next morning, we had breakfast at the Lincoln Square Restaurant, then went off in search of intriguing architecture.   First, though, we went to the Columbus CVB and watched two videos about architecture (one about Cummins, Inc., the manufacturer of diesel engines and one a more general piece), then drove around looking at schools, churches, and the like.  We spend time at the Purdue/Univ. of IN local campus, where we saw unique architecture and sculpture, including a super ceiling composition by Chihuly.

We had lunch at 4th Street Bar; a burger for me and an ahi tuna taco for my wife. Then, more architecture; we walked all over and took lots of photos (see an upcoming post, soon). Then we made another stop at Zaharakos for ice cream and a root beer float, followed by a stop in a book store (View Point Books), then back to hotel.

For dinner that night, we ate dinner at Riviera Maya Mexican Restaurant.

The next day, September 6, we left Columbus around 8:30 a.m.  We headed west and stopped in Mount Vernon, IL at 9th Street Grill for lunch (BLT and gazpacho for me; gazpacho and black bean salad for my wife).  Next, my wife decided we should visit the local sculpture garden (CedarHurst Center for the Arts).  I was not expecting much; I was stunned at the place…amazing for such a small town (14,000 people).  I took photos of some of the sculptures.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

OhioCapeGFrom there, we drove through Illinois and into Missouri, stopping at Cape Girardeau to see “the” cape from a bluff overlooking the Mississippi River.  The bridge connecting East Cape Girardeau and Cape Girardeau is the Bill Emerson Memorial Bridge.

We took US 67 to Poplar Bluff, MO, where we stayed the night at a Holiday Inn Express.  Apparently, the hotels in the town have enormous business because of the distance to other towns with hotels, so they overcharge dramatically.  The desk clerk admitted as much.  Nice to know: the lodging industry bases its rates solely on demand, not on value to the traveler.

Dinner was at Carlton’s, a steakhouse with overtones of other family steakhouses.  I had a NY strip and a potato; JKB had a sirloin and pork rib combo.  Both were adequate; neither were grand.

The next day, we finished the trip by driving almost straight through from Poplar Bluff, Missouri to Dallas, with stops only for gas and to take on or discharge liquid.  And then, we were home.

The tomato plants did not enjoy our absence; they protested by committing vegicide.  The garage door did not enjoy our absence, either.  It protested by deciding to bind upon opening and closing.  Such is life.  I will write more about Columbus, IN in the near future and will post photos.  As I said before, it’s an impressive town.

 

Posted in Art, Family, Food, Racism, Regret, Travel | 2 Comments

On the Road

Posted on September 3, 2013 by John Swinburn

After four nights being hosted by my nephew and his lovely wife, we’re about to hit the road again. We may drift east or north, we may turn back toward home, taking a more westerly route.  Only after getting in the car will we decide on our immediate plans.

I’m inclined to go new places, but only time will tell. Once we get home in…four days, a week, a month…I’ll chronicle this trip.

This day after Labor Day I’m glad I am not returning to the daily grind of work. I am happy, at this moment, to be a vagabond.

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Doing Without: First Success

Posted on September 1, 2013 by John Swinburn

The month of August has passed and so has my first successful month of doing without. I gave up coffee for the entire month with no difficulty.  Today, I began September with a treat: a cup of very nice, rich, medium roast coffee prepared by my nephew.  It was good.  Very, very good.

I can’t say doing without this first month had any real impact on what I think or who I am, but it gives me a sense of pride in sticking to my commitment; I had the discipline to do without something I enjoy for 31 consecutive days.

The month of September is my month to do without alcohol.  My wife, who’s my biggest supporter, suggested it would be OK if I wanted to defer my alcohol deprivation until after the Labor Day weekend, but I decided to stick with my commitment.  So, for the month of September, my plan is to drink no alcohol.

My “alternative” to coffee for the month of August was to be the act of walking, which did not materialize to the extent it should have, but I will plan to walk more in September, especially when the temperatures are cooperative.  For September, my alternative will be to drink iced tea; that’s a suitable substitute and may well help propel me to walk more.

More as I go along…

Posted in Doing Without, Self-discipline | 6 Comments

Friends

Posted on August 26, 2013 by John Swinburn

It’s not a silly question.  Despite the fact that “everybody knows” what a friend is and how friendship develops and what it means to be a friend, it’s not a silly question.  What is a friend?

There are dozens more questions hinged to the first one.  At what point does a person make the transition from being an acquaintance to being a friend?  Surely there are degrees of friendship, but what are they? Is it really possible to have several “close” friends?  What is a “best friend?” Are spouses and siblings friends?  Does one love a friend in the same sense that one loves a brother or sister?  The questions can, and do, continue to spill forth.  Friendship is a complicated experience.  And there are no simple questions to questions about so intricate a relationship.

From a purely pragmatic point of view, friendship is what the people involved in friendships believe it to be.  It can be as simple as conviviality and camaraderie to some people.  But to others, friendship is far more than just being “buddies.”  While it may not be as psychologically intimate as the bond between spouses or life partners, it may have some of the same characteristics of lifelong commitments.  In fact, some would say, friendships are less likely to dissolve than marriages.

But, still, conversations about the relative strength of friendships versus marriages, etc. beg the question: friendship defined in what way?  I may know that I’ll always like ‘old Joe,’ who’s a nice guy and who is easy to hang out with. Regardless of whether we live close together or far apart, I think we’ll always be “buds.”  Maybe, but maybe not; but we’ll not go there yet.  Would I drop everything and travel cross-country to help Joe out of bind?  My answer to that question clearly distinguishes between someone I would call a friend and someone I would call an acquaintance.  Just as I would sacrifice my life for my wife if called for, I would do the same for my friend.  I would cross the continent.  I would give  up all I have.  My assumption, of course, is that my friend (and my wife) would do the same.  But maybe even that doesn’t matter.  In my mind, in the deep recesses of what I define as right and wrong, a friend is someone for whom I would give all.  There’s no question I’d do that for my wife.  And there’s no question in my mind I’d do the same for my friend.

The question, though, remains.  Who is my friend? How do I know that bond is sufficient to warrant the sacrifice I’ve just described?  I think the answer is not so much one that can be answered in the affirmative, but one which must painfully be answered by deciding who, among my “friends,” would I NOT be willing to sacrifice myself for his benefit?

That decision is the one that, in my mind, defines “friend.”  That’s what separates acquaintances, even good, close acquaintances, from friends.  I might go to extreme lengths to help an acquaintance. I hope I would…I think it’s right to do one’s best to help people with whom one shares some pre-friendship bonds that are strong and have potential.  But I would not sacrifice all I have, all that matters to me, for an acquaintance.  I might risk pain, injury, harm of all kinds, but I would not knowingly risk death.   For a friend, though, I believe I would risk it all.

But there’s a terrible, hard-to-consider, roadblock in that mode of thinking.  Would I risk death to save a friend, leaving my spouse alone without me?  Priorities arise when answering that question.  Assuming my spouse is the most important friend I have, the answer would be no.  But, outside risks to one’s spouse, one should be confident that he can depend on his friend…for anything.  People who draw the line as to what they would or would not do for a friend are referring not to friends, but to acquaintances.

I can count on the fingers of one hand, with leftovers, the number of friends…as I’ve defined friend above…I’ve had in my life.  One the one hand, that fact can make me feel alone and lonely.  On the other, I know close bonds are rare…very, very rare.  I find distressing the fact that close friendships …and, here, I’m referring to male friendships, because I’ve never been a female and have no plans to become one…often are embarrassing to the participants, thanks to societal conventions that look askance as close male friendships.   Even the friends feel discomfort in acknowledging, much less expressing, their closeness.  That’s too bad.

Several months ago, I lost a friend with whom I’d lost touch.  We never discussed his sexual orientation, but I knew he was gay and he knew I am straight.  Not that it mattered.  We were friends.  Very close friends.  I could allow myself to express my emotions in his presence, knowing he would not judge me as being weak or unmanly.  Moreover, I wasn’t embarrassed to reveal my emotions to him; he was not judgmental.  When I learned he had died, even though we’d lost touch, it really knocked the breath out of me; it was as if I’d lost someone very close to me.  And, of course, I had.

Some months after he died, I was thinking about him and about a couple of his other friends.  They were genuinely good, caring people.  One of them was his brother-in-law, a guy who’d married my friend’s sister not long after I met my friend.  The brother-in-law was a gentle soul, a guy who seemed to me at the time to be the sort of person who would do anything to help someone in need.  My friend’s sister was like that, too; she was…and I assume still is…a wonderfully kind, caring, welcoming person.

But I lost touch with my friend and his family and friends.  That’s a little like losing members of your own family; I guess it’s because good friends and their families become one’s family. That loss remains painful.  Part of it, I suppose, I could remedy if I were to try to rekindle the friendships that developed.  But I wonder, and probably always will, whether that “friendship” was just an artifact of a “real” friendship; maybe it was just a set of acquaintances, not friends, with whom I had a connection.

And so there you go, I guess.  One doesn’t always know whether acquaintances are friends or whether the people they call friends are just acquaintances.  Not until they ask their friends to drop everything and cross the country to help. And that’s not something one wants to do, both because it’s not a burden one wants to place on a friend and it would be too painful to know that a person one counts as a friend wouldn’t drop everything.

And, so, the number of fingers on one hand tend to correspond to the number of real friends a person is likely to have.

Maybe.

Posted in Friendship | 1 Comment

Drift

Posted on August 22, 2013 by John Swinburn

He drifts slowly from consciousness, slipping from crisp coherence into a soft, shallow haze of semi-awareness. The clot of tangled detritus upon which he rests floats down the street, snagging a street sign, then a tree branch, then a lonely balcony ripped by the flood from a magnificent old house.

His mind adjusts to the confusion and chaos; it allows the world to flow by without concern for the gravity of the flood. Corpses floating by don’t register; they just happen, as if bodies swept along in a rush of caramel-colored water were normal. Kneeblood, if he hadn’t been battered by debris, dehydrated, and almost cooked by the relentless heat of the sun, would have known things weren’t right.  He had suffered as much as anyone, but hadn’t admitted it.  He had no one to whom he could make that admission.

Posted in Fiction | 3 Comments

The Bedrock of Compromise

Posted on August 18, 2013 by John Swinburn

The following is an edited version of a post extracted from another of my blogs, written just over two years ago. I read the post again to determine whether my position has changed. It hasn’t.

It pays to remind ourselves from time to time that even our most firmly held principles and beliefs tend to be littered with shades of grey.  Or, at the very least, the rationale upon which we base our firmly held beliefs typically is an exercise in compromised “principles” and/or not-so-stable bedrock beliefs.

If we regularly acknowledged we live a life of constant compromise, and acknowledged the value of compromise to the greater good, we would be less likely to draw lines in the sand. Sand, as we know, shifts.

Take, for example, my belief that society has an obligation to provide a social safety net for its members.  The Social Security system is an example of that belief put into practice.  So is Medicare.  But the belief in society’s obligation to its own citizens is not black and white.  There is an every-present dilemma over how much society owes it citizens.  How much is “enough” to ensure a decent quality of life in retirement?  What about someone who did not contribute to Social Security?  What about the very wealthy who contributed, but do not need it…but get it anyway?  People like me, who believe deeply in society’s obligation to look out after its own, tend to believe the state should provide some base-level of support…but even I, who tend rather far to the left on such matters, acknowledge there’s a moving target as to what is practical and reasonable in the context of our economic condition at any given time.

Were I to draw a line in the sand and say, unequivocally, “society must always, without fail, take care of its citizens who cannot take care of themselves,” it would be necessary for me to make some value judgments about the level at which an individual is judged to be unable to “take care of himself.”  Does covering the cost of cable TV come into the equation?  How about life-saving medications?  Rent?  In what kind of home or apartment?  In what city?  Where does one look to find the definitive baseline for support in the case of someone “in need?”

To find some reasonable level of state support, one must examine a host of factors and come to some decision as to what is reasonable, what is practical, and what will be acceptable to sufficient numbers of us in our society so the support can be provided.  And we must be aware of the nature of our society; it’s in constant flux.  We should acknowledge that; and we should be very careful about making “promises” to our citizens about what we will, or can, do.  All of us should understand we cannot take governmental “promises” at face value.  No matter how much we may want those promises to be carved in stone, it pays to remember that stone is etched and eroded over time by the elements.

Looking to the other end of the political spectrum, there are those who believe the United States must have a strong defense. While I may or not agree that significant expenditures are needed to keep our military in competitive condition, there’s compromise brewing on both ends of the argument.  At what point does my pacificism accept the need to protect ourselves from attack?  At what point, conversely, does the damage to our reputation as “leader” done by our aggressive or militaristic stance give way to the practicalities called for if we wish to live in a world in which we are not the perpetual target of the less fortunate?

The vote in New York to legitimize same-sex marriage was a huge success for gays and people who simply believe one’s sexual orientation is no business of the state.  But it was a crushing defeat for those who look at the decision as an open door to illegitimate state expenditures for medical care, etc. for people who are married to others of the same sex.

Compromise, people!  Left is not always right and right is not always wrong!  For Christ’s sake, just be willing to get off your holier-than-thou throne on occasion and THINK instead of simply FEELING!

I am becoming more and more convinced that the people we elect to office should be absolutely apolitical.  That way, their decisions are apt to be based on the facts and logic, as opposed to abusive Catholic priests or hard-drinking atheist mothers.

Posted in Politics | Leave a comment

Tanning Laundries

Posted on August 15, 2013 by John Swinburn

Recently, my wife and I had a conversation about tanning salons.  They are everywhere. The only person, to my knowledge, I’ve ever known to regularly visit a tanning salon was a sociopath who used to steal from her employers…and may do so to this day.  She was a real prize who had absolutely no compunction about stealing, lying, laying blame on others for her misdeeds, etc., etc.  And, of course, her skin was deeply tanned.  Though she was only about 35, I suspected she would be a wrinkled prune in ten years.

But my intent is not to write about a sociopath.  My intent is to write about tanning salons and my suspicion that they may just be money laundries.  Money laundries the way a car wash is a money laundry in the television series, Breaking Bad.

The reason for my suspicion is this: there is no good reason for the existence of tanning salons, certainly not in Texas.  If a person wants to darken his or her skin while doing irreparable damage to his or her health, if a person is desperate to get skin cancer, there’s a cheaper and easier way to do it: sit in the sun.  There’s no need to pay someone to lay on a tanning bed.

But there must be a reason that there are so many tanning salons, right?  There must be! And, yes, I think there is.  They exist to launder money.  Probably drug money, the same money that Walter  White needs to launder in Breaking Bad.  I did a bit of research to learn whether anyone else thinks tanning salons exist to launder money.  Cornell University Law School seems to think beauty salons are commonly used to launder money, but no mention is made of tanning salons; that must be just an oversight.  But a British blogger for an organization focused on stopping money laundering seems to agree with my take on tanning salons.  And I found an example of tanning salons revealed for what they are: money laundries.

Based on my admittedly quick and dirty research, it appears that there are plenty of people who think tanning salons are not just possible, but likely fronts for laundering money.  Why, then, are there so damn many of them?

I want answers.  But not badly enough to delve any deeper.

Posted in Money laundering | 2 Comments

Prevarication or Procrastination

Posted on August 12, 2013 by John Swinburn

I lied. At least that’s the way it looks.  No paint.  No brushes. No caulk.  Nothing.  And today is not looking any better.  I have my reasons, mind you, but it appears, nonetheless, that I lied.

And I am nothing, if not all about keeping up appearances.

 

 

Posted in Lies/disinformation, Procrastination | 2 Comments

Focus…Focus…Focus

Posted on August 11, 2013 by John Swinburn

It’s time for me to return to the important task at hand: getting the house ready to sell. I’ve been remiss of late in that I’ve essentially withdrawn from my responsibilities for taking care of a lot of cosmetic necessities.

So, today, I will buy four gallons of paint, several brushes and rollers, a few tubes of latex caulk, some sandpaper, and a few other odds & ends to prepare for a focused week of fix-up. I will paint the hallway outside the master bedroom and the bedroom that serves as my wife’s office.  And I will paint the dining room and the entry hall.  And I will paint one wall in the breakfast area.  And, I will paint the interior of the garage.  And I will paint the guest bath.  And I will paint the wood trim in the bedroom that serves as my office. I say “I will” instead of “I plan to” as a means of putting pressure on myself to actually get it done. I’ve planned on doing these things since I was young and tall and good-looking.

Before I paint the garage, I have to do a bit of drywall repair to address some damage I did while trying to be Mr. Handyman in the past.  While attempting to temporarily store some sheets of siding by hanging them on the garage wall, I put a rather large hole in the wall just above the base plate. It’s a repair I should have made months ago, but I’ve been terribly busy lazy.

In addition to painting and handling drywall repair, I will take care of some other long-deferred maintenance issues, among them:

  • Fixing squeaky door hinges
  • Power-washing the garage door
  • Cleaning out the gutters
  • Patching some cracked mortar around the exterior brick
  • Arranging for refinishing the countertops in the half-bath, guest bath, and bar
  • Re-grouting the tile in the guest bath
  • Repairing the interior cabinet base in the half-bath

After  I get some of this stuff done (it may take a while), my wife and I plan on taking a trip to visit my nephew and his wife in Ohio.  That’s something else we’ve deferred several times this summer.  But this time, assuming it works with their schedule, we will do it.  And, in the process, we will explore a part of the country in which we’ve spent little time heretofore.  We may visit my wife’s friend in Columbus, we may wander down into Kentucky to sample Kentucky whiskey, we may play it entirely by ear and take each day as it comes.

When we return, we will return to a house that is nearly ready to sell; I will just complete the list and be done.  And then we’ll work out the schedule of when to actually put it on the market and where we’ll go once it sells.  I thought these decisions had all been made.  But decisions can change.  Intentions can be redirected.  Now, we must focus on the tasks at hand.  Focus. Focus. Focus.

Posted in Housiing, Procrastination, Travel | Leave a comment

Christian Nation

Posted on August 8, 2013 by John Swinburn

A friend of mine who shares many of my attitudes about religion suggested to me recently that I read a book, a novel, she had just started reading.  She suggested I would find it interesting, but she warned me that I would find it upsetting, as well. I finally got my hands on a copy through inter-library loan and began reading it.  She was right.  It’s upsetting. Though it’s a novel, it paints an all-too-plausible and even likely picture of the future of the USA.

The book is Christian Nation by Frederic Rich.   It presents a fictionalized account of the future of the USA, had the McCain/Palin ticket won the 2008 election.  Whether you’re Christian (except nutcase evangelical), Muslim, Buddhist, Atheist, or Pagan, I think you’ll find the scenario offered in the book to be all-to-plausible.

I’ve not read the entire book, but the first few chapters are sufficiently riveting and frightening that I wanted to share, early.  It’s scary stuff.

Posted in Books, Politics, Religion | Leave a comment

Hearing Voices

Posted on August 7, 2013 by John Swinburn

Wading through masses of “stuff” we’ve kept in boxes, drawers, bins, closets, and who knows where else, my wife came across some old cassette tapes.  Her encounter with the tapes happened as she was seeking to find things to give away, sell, or discard in preparation for selling our house and moving along to the next phase.

Most of the cassette tapes contain music that’s readily available elsewhere.  I recorded most of the tapes, back when I spent my time doing such things.  I used to record cassettes of my favorite music so I could listen in my car.  That was before CDs and, then, MP3 files, etc., were available in traffic.

One tape, though, didn’t look like my music tapes.  Written in ink on the label for side A was this: “Homemade Tape: First Portion in Corpus – Circa 1973; Second Portion  in Houston – Circa 1983.” I had no recollection of the tape, but the label intrigued me.  I had to listen.   I tried some of the old cassette players we still have lying around, the battery-powered portables we used to buy, but they did not work, even with new batteries.  So I went to the only convenient place I could listen to the tape: the car.

I sat in the garage and listened to much of one side of the tape.  As I began listening, I could hear the voice of one of my brothers talking to me.  His voice sounded like it does today, but with more precise enunciation, not yet marked by his time living for a long while in deep twang east Texas.

He said we had just spoken on the phone and what he was about to attempt was the taping we’d discussed on the phone.  Apparently, he had come across reel-to-reel tapes someone, maybe he, had recorded.  Since he had no means to record directly from reel-to-reel onto cassette tapes, he opted to try to record with a microphone set up in front of the speakers as he played the reel-to-reel tape.

I heard my voice as a 21 year-old disaffected student.  I heard my brother, next to me in age, talk about how much he enjoyed the salad my mother had prepared. He sounded the same way he sounds today.

I heard my mother, her voice different from the way I remember it, talking about buying avocados at a price of seven for a dollar and buying squash for 25 cents a pound.  Her accent, with a Southern and not a Texan drawl. reminded me of her sister’s, my aunt’s, drawl.  I didn’t recognize my mother’s voice immediately.  That shocked me, because in my mind I remembered what she sounded like; the recording made me realize my memory was out of sync with reality.

I heard my father’s voice.  It took me a few moments, but his voice sounded the way I expected it to sound.  Hearing his voice, I could see his face and watch his expressions change as he spoke about someone who had recovered some lumber.

I heard my oldest brother’s voice, too, and it sounds just like it does today.  Not just the voice, but the mode of delivery is distinctively his. I think I heard his then-wife on the 1973 part of the tape, but I’m not sure about that.

I think I heard my other former sister-in-law’s voice on the Houston tape from 1983.  I know I heard my niece and nephew chattering about in the background.

Most of the tape was flooded with noise of family, everyone talking at once in the background, but it was apparent that all the disparate conversations were audible to the respective participants.  Hearing it as an “outsider” listening in, it sounded chaotic, but I know it was just multiple conversations going on; me wanting to hear every one of them, but being unable to focus on any single speaker.  I was too wrapped up in the emotion of hearing my past play out in my ears.  Hearing the voices of my parents, who’ve been dead many years now, was an emotional experience I wasn’t expecting.

As I listened to the tape, I found myself wishing fervently that I had made a point of recording and preserving the voices of my parents and each of my siblings.  And I wondered whether my siblings have made a point of recording their voices so that their children or their nieces and nephews and those who follow could have the experience of listening to voices from their past.  I know I have not made a point of doing that.  But maybe, just maybe, I will do that, now that I’ve heard that tape and wished I could hear more.

 

Posted in Family, Voices | 2 Comments

Antisocial

Posted on August 5, 2013 by John Swinburn

On occasion, I find myself feeling especially antisocial.  I feel utterly disinterested in conversation, in fact completely opposed to any interaction of whatever kind.  Today is one of those occasions.  I have an inkling of what brought it on this time, though I’m not certain. But looking back, I don’t recall sensing a reason for my need to withdraw; I just felt…I feel…an antagonism toward human beings in general.  Their dramas, their hopes, their dreams…nothing about them appeals to me.  The reverse may be true, I suppose.   They don’t have any interest in my sudden need to withdraw from the world.  The difference for me, now, is that today I don’t care.  Usually, I would be offended or hurt to think people wouldn’t have empathy for this…whatever it is.  But today, I really don’t care whether they have empathy for me or not.  I’m not after empathy.  I don’t know what I’m after.  I’m not sure I’m after anything.

Well, I suppose I’m after something.  I’m writing this now so that, after this passes, I will be able to read what I was thinking.  Although, truth be told, I don’t think I care now, nor will I then, what I was thinking.  What I was thinking is unimportant.  In fact, nothing is important.  That’s it in a nutshell.  Nothing is important.  The earth could vaporize in an instant and it wouldn’t matter.  If I knew it were coming in fifteen minutes, it wouldn’t matter.  I think I’d just sit and wait for it.

But, really. I am smarter than what I just said.   If I didn’t care, if it didn’t matter, I wouldn’t be bothering to write this.  So, someplace in the dark recesses of my mind, this dark mood matters to me.

There must be a mix of depression and anger that creates this odd sense of detachment from humankind, this unusual sense that I want nothing whatsoever to do with other people.  Is it because I see them, in general, as so shallow?  Is it because I hear people talk just to hear themselves talk?  Is it because there’s so much ignorance in the world and so little hope of brightening it with knowledge and understanding?  Maybe none of the above, maybe all.  I’m having a hard time writing this because it’s not of any interest at the moment.  Maybe it never is.

I wonder if changing one’s environment really has any effect on one’s mental attitude, on one’s perspective on life.  Will a move to a cooler climate or an environment in which the people are more liberal and, therefore, more intelligent help?  Will it matter?  And would I even fit in?  Would I care?  Not now, no.  I wouldn’t care about fitting in.  I wouldn’t care about liberal environments and cool weather.  Because it’s all just so tangential to who I am.  Nothing in my environment will make me a different person. And nothing in me will make me a different person.  I have spent almost 60 years getting to this place, wherever this place is.  And maybe that’s the source of my current malaise.  If it took this long to get to a generally unpleasant place, how long would it take to undo what I’ve done and become what I’ve not been?  Just thinking about the hopelessness of making the trip back is enough to ruin my mood, such as it is.

At some point, I will read this and wonder how I could have felt such a sense of despondency and utter gloom.  Having just re-read what I wrote, I  will have to wonder, because this post certainly hasn’t enlightened me.

Posted in Depression | 2 Comments

Grasshopper

Posted on August 3, 2013 by John Swinburn

I trained the water from the nozzle of the hose on the grasshopper, knocking it off the wall. It half fell, half jumped onto the grass a few feet away, fleeing yet another obstacle to life.
Another attack in a short lifetime of attacks, another crime without a purpose.

The jet of water followed almost as quickly as the grasshopper fled,
finding it in the grass before it had the chance to get its footing and be off to the next wall.

Water pressure pushed the grasshopper deeper and deeper into the grass,
preventing it from breaking free of the drowning stream.

It lifted a leg as if to try to thrust itself away from this horrible, wet attack,
but I moved the stream of water expertly to the left, then  to the right, twisting its leg
until it could no longer thrust in any direction but up, helplessly pushing against the sky.

The lifespan of an adult grasshopper is only 30 days.
So murder by drowning only robs it, at most, of 30 days.
To me, 30 days is just a month, but to a grasshopper, it’s a lifetime.

Posted in Nature | Leave a comment

Coffee-Walk-Sloth-Pain

Posted on August 2, 2013 by John Swinburn

Photo from Smithsonian National Zoological Park, Jessie Cohen, NZP photographer

I’m only on day two of doing without and, as expected, I have had no difficulty doing without coffee.  But my coffee replacement, a 30+ minute morning walk, has been more of an adjustment than it should have been, considering that I walked 1000 miles during the last ten months of 2012.  By the time I completed my 1000-mile goal last year, walking 6-9 miles had become pretty easy for me.  My joints and bones had gotten used to it.

Allowing those same joints and bones to languish for seven months, with only the rare test of strength and endurance, was slothfulness with consequences.  Yesterday and today, after walking just 2.6 miles and 2.7 miles, respectively, my knees and feet are protesting loudly that they belong to someone who should not be forced to endure the exploits of a younger and better-looking man.

This pain, I hope, will be short-lived.  My knees and feet will adjust to the daily abuse and will not be so loud in their protestations.   I will return to a stay of being in which walking will be the cure for what ails me, instead of sloth serving as the cure for walking.

 

 

Posted in Doing Without, Self-discipline, Sloth, Walking | Leave a comment

Ora Pro Nobis

Posted on August 1, 2013 by John Swinburn
OraProNobis

My rather poor iPhone photo of St. Mary’s Catholic Church and Shrine, Windthorst, TX

One recent weekend, my wife and I went for a long, aimless drive north and west of Dallas. Our trip took us to Bowie, where we had lunch at the Armadillo Grill, and then along a nearly deserted back road west to a the little town of Windthorst.

As we approached Windthorst, we noticed an imposing building, five or six stories tall, looking completely out-of-place amid the scrub and barbed wire and one-story buildings along the road into town.  My immediate take on the place was that it was a church, but it was far larger and more impressive than most churches in tiny Texas towns.  Windthorst, I think the sign at the edge of town indicated, only has about 500 people.  This building was a church for many more, it seemed to me.

The street leading up to the building had been newly paved, or paved anew; it was dark black with freshly painted white lane markings.  I noticed as we approached the building that there was a grotto or a shrine near street level, just to the right of the stone stairway leading up to the entrance to the building.  Signs around the building clarified what this place was: St. Mary’s Catholic Church.

Interested in the story of the place, we pulled up and parked near the grotto. I saw an inscription in Latin that intrigued me, so I made note of a phrase from it: “Ora pro nobis.” I saw nothing else that told the story, so I decided to make a few notes and look into it later, after we got home.

According to an article in Wikipedia, St. Mary’s Grotto is an outdoor shrine paid for with money sent home  by 64 Windthorst military service members during World War II.  All 64 service members returned home, the article says.  An article in the Handbook of Texas, published by the Texas State Historical Association, says the town’s population reached a high of about 1,000 in 1977, but has now dropped below 500.

But what interested me was the inscription, and for some reason a specific part of it: ora pro nobis.  The phrase is a Latin invocation used in various Catholic services.  Literally, it translates into “speak for us” but its use in the church has taken on the meaning “pray for us.”

As I read more about the phrase, I tried to recall the context of the ora pro nobis in my note.  I think I recall Sancta Maria being part of the sentences in which the term ora pro nobis was embedded.  And the more I found online in my odd little search, the more I decided the entire inscription must be this:

 Sancta Maria, Mater Dei, ora pro nobis peccatoribus nunc et in hora mortis nostrae.

Or, in English:

Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death.

I wonder if the service members who paid for the shrine with the money they sent home knew what it was they were paying for?  I can only imagine these people, who were thousands of miles from home in the midst of what they probably perceived as a battle for humanity, must have wished for help.

One day I will return to Windthorst to verify the entirety of the inscription on the shrine. Something about the shrine and the church, such large beacons in such a small town, were appealing to me.  Though I generally think the money that goes to build monuments to religion can be far better spent, there are times when I think the comfort those monuments may provide is money well spent, indeed.

 

Posted in Religion | 2 Comments

Doing Without: An August Beginning

Posted on July 30, 2013 by John Swinburn

I’ve been thinking all month about what I would do without in my first month of doing without.  July, of course, was not the first month.  That will be August.

For my first month, I’ll do without coffee, which will not be hard for me.  I love coffee, but I am not addicted to it.  I enjoy waking up and immediately drinking a strong cup or two, but on occasion I will get busy and won’t do it; it rarely bothers me.  So the first month’s test of my discipline should not be terribly hard.

My alternative to coffee will be something I’ve neglected for quite some time: walking.  So, instead of getting up and having a cup of coffee, I will get up and take a  half-hour walk. I mentioned that in my July 3 post; I’ll stick with it.  Here’s how my monthly plan for the first six months looks at the moment:

August: No coffee; Replacement: walking
September: No alcohol; Replacement: iced tea
October: No meat; Replacement: more veggies
November: No social media; Replacement: silent meditation
December: No restaurant meals; Replacement: home-made meals focusing on regional cuisine of the U.S. and Canada
January: No leisure drives; Replacement: download and complete a one semester MIT course in Public Transportation Systems in one month.
February: No television; Replacement: download and complete an MIT course on Disease and Health: Culture, Society & Ethics

My plans may very well change.   But whether they do or not, I hope I can count on others to hold me accountable to my promises to myself.

 

Posted in Doing Without, Self-discipline | Leave a comment

The Algebra of Procrastination

Posted on July 28, 2013 by John Swinburn

Procrastination is a calculation.  It’s a calculation of value.  It goes something like this:

If X=the pain of doing the task;
and Y=the pleasure of having done the work;
Then the task will be done when the value of Y is greater than X.

Put another way, Value=Function/Cost, where Value= the task and Function=Y and Cost=X.

The task of quantifying pleasure and pain will just have to wait.

Posted in Procrastination | 2 Comments