Monday, December 19, 2011

There once was a little girl named Maya...


Once upon a time there was a little girl named Maya.

Maya lived near Lansing, Michigan, with her loving mother, two sisters, brother, stepdad and two Maltese puppies named Ben and Jerry. Her 71-year-old grandmother, who was from India and who Maya called “Nani,” lived nearby, and her stepdad's parents, who commented on Maya's charm every time they saw her, were only half a day's drive away. She had lots of friends, too; her bestie was named Alyna.

Maya was lovable for lots of reasons, but mostly because she was so special. Different. Unique. One-of-a-kind. She was like other little girls in the way she talked back to her mommy sometimes and was so easily frustrated and argued with her siblings – especially her brother, who was one year older – but she had what her stepdad referred to as a special “spark,” a personality that was precocious and advanced and compelling and noteworthy and exceptional.

It was assumed that Maya would one day become a movie star or famous stage actress or something artistic because she had such a flair for the dramatic, was so expressive and funny, and could be so much larger than life. It wasn’t a talent for singing or dancing that led people to assume this; it was the sheer force of her personality, the spark. She wasn’t loud. She was just special. She didn’t demand that people pay attention to her. They just did because she stood out.

All parents think their children are special – well, if they’re good parents, they do – but Maya really was something to write home about. She was so lovable and likable and smart and sensitive and vaguely fragile that her mom and stepdad worried about her, were afraid that she would be hurt or make the wrong choice because they knew that underneath her confident exterior was a little girl who wanted to be loved, who liked attention, who wasn’t afraid to compete and bend the rules. All little girls want to be loved, of course. But people were drawn to Maya. And her parents worried that this might include people who would take advantage of Maya’s beauty and goodness and spark. Not everybody’s good. Not even in Maya’s world.

So Maya turned nine years old. Her family sang to her and she received gifts and attention and even more love. Ben and Jerry licked her face and wagged their tails even more than usual when they saw her on birthday morning. She smiled her megawatt smile and thanked people without being told to and generally proved over and over again why people were lucky to know her. And at one point during the day, everybody – her mom, her brother Bryant, her sisters Nikita and Devina, her stepdad and even the dogs, we think – took a moment to be thankful that someone so magical, so different, so special and striking, so beautiful inside and out, was in their family.

Happy birthday, Monkey.

Sunday, December 18, 2011

Marisa Monte & Cesária Évora - É Doce Morrer no Mar

Sunday poetry


Church Going

Once I am sure there's nothing going on
I step inside, letting the door thud shut.
Another church: matting, seats, and stone,
And little books; sprawlings of flowers, cut
For Sunday, brownish now; some brass and stuff
Up at the holy end; the small neat organ;
And a tense, musty, unignorable silence,
Brewed God knows how long. Hatless, I take off
My cycle-clips in awkward reverence.

Move forward, run my hand around the font.
From where I stand, the roof looks almost new -
Cleaned, or restored? Someone would know: I don't.
Mounting the lectern, I peruse a few
Hectoring large-scale verses, and pronounce
'Here endeth' much more loudly than I'd meant.
The echoes snigger briefly. Back at the door
I sign the book, donate an Irish sixpence,
Reflect the place was not worth stopping for.

Yet stop I did: in fact I often do,
And always end much at a loss like this,
Wondering what to look for; wondering, too,
When churches will fall completely out of use
What we shall turn them into, if we shall keep
A few cathedrals chronically on show,
Their parchment, plate and pyx in locked cases,
And let the rest rent-free to rain and sheep.
Shall we avoid them as unlucky places?

Or, after dark, will dubious women come
To make their children touch a particular stone;
Pick simples for a cancer; or on some
Advised night see walking a dead one?
Power of some sort will go on
In games, in riddles, seemingly at random;
But superstition, like belief, must die,
And what remains when disbelief has gone?
Grass, weedy pavement, brambles, buttress, sky,

A shape less recognisable each week,
A purpose more obscure. I wonder who
Will be the last, the very last, to seek
This place for what it was; one of the crew
That tap and jot and know what rood-lofts were?
Some ruin-bibber, randy for antique,
Or Christmas-addict, counting on a whiff
Of gown-and-bands and organ-pipes and myrrh?
Or will he be my representative,

Bored, uninformed, knowing the ghostly silt
Dispersed, yet tending to this cross of ground
Through suburb scrub because it held unspilt
So long and equably what since is found
Only in separation - marriage, and birth,
And death, and thoughts of these - for which was built
This special shell? For, though I've no idea
What this accoutred frowsty barn is worth,
It pleases me to stand in silence here;

A serious house on serious earth it is,
In whose blent air all our compulsions meet,
Are recognized, and robed as destinies.
And that much never can be obsolete,
Since someone will forever be surprising
A hunger in himself to be more serious,
And gravitating with it to this ground,
Which, he once heard, was proper to grow wise in,
If only that so many dead lie round.

~ Philip Larkin

Saturday, December 17, 2011

To Hitch

Farewell, Hitch.


Christopher Hitchens, the 62-year-old writer, intellectual, lecturer and noted atheist with the British accent and lightning-fast mind who was known as “Hitch” to his friends, died yesterday of pneumonia, a complication of his esophageal cancer.

You don’t have to be a heathen to mourn Christopher Hitchens’ death. Yes, those who reject organized religion and deny the existence of God have lost one of their most provocative and eloquent spokespeople. But Hitchens wrote and lectured on a variety of topics and even those who attend church religiously must admit that he was supremely talented – absolutely brilliant, in fact – and his departure from the planet creates a void.

He wasn’t just a gifted author of 11 books and several collected essays, pamphlets and collaborative works; he could think on his feet and immediately respond to a question or assertion with facts, wit and often irrefutable posits and anecdotes that rendered his questioner or debater impotent and speechless. He had such power, personality and staggering intellect. It’s possible that he was insufferable in person, as those who are aware of their awesome intelligence or pleased with what they have achieved in life can be – although from what I’ve read, he wasn’t – but I still would have liked to have personally met, talked with, listened to and learned from him. It’s not every day that we can share air with true genius.

I didn’t agree with Hitchens about everything – he supported hawkish neoconservative Paul Wolfowitz and the Iraq war, insulted Cindy Sheehan and rooted for Ralph Nader for president in 2000 – but I respect him like few others, not only for his smarts and wit but for the self-confidence and courage that it took to appear on national television or stand before hostile audiences and slice their realities to bits, to turn people’s deeply-held convictions upside down and inside out in less time than it takes me to reboot my laptop. He challenged listeners and readers, made important points, shared unique insights, rejected the ridiculous and warned that the barbarians weren’t merely at the gates, they were well inside, having been let in by the faithful.

As one friend posted in Facebook after Hitchens’ death became known, “We all saw this coming yet it is never easy.” (He interrupted a book tour to undergo treatment for his cancer in June of 2010.) Indeed, it’s hard not to feel sad or even downright depressed when someone like Hitchens or Steve Jobs or Dennis Ritchie or Geraldine Ferraro or Betty Ford or Jack LaLanne or Gil Scott-Heron or Howard Zinn dies and you know the world will never be the same, that someone who may be imitated but never duplicated has left this mortal plane, someone who in one way or another made life better, made a lasting contribution.

Here are some quotes that reveal Christopher Hitchens’ brilliance (I tried to choose a favorite but couldn’t so they’re listed in no particular order):

“Religion ends and philosophy begins, just as alchemy ends and chemistry begins and astrology ends and astronomy begins.”

"The only position that leaves me with no cognitive dissonance is atheism. It is not a creed. Death is certain, replacing both the siren-song of Paradise and the dread of Hell. Life on this earth, with all its mystery and beauty and pain, is then to be lived far more intensely: we stumble and get up, we are sad, confident, insecure, feel loneliness and joy and love. There is nothing more; but I want nothing more."

“Take the risk of thinking for yourself, much more happiness, truth, beauty, and wisdom will come to you that way.”

"[Mother Teresa] was not a friend of the poor. She was a friend of poverty. She said that suffering was a gift from God. She spent her life opposing the only known cure for poverty, which is the empowerment of women and the emancipation of them from a livestock version of compulsory reproduction."

"The Bible may, indeed does, contain a warrant for trafficking in humans, for ethnic cleansing, for slavery, for bride-price, and for indiscriminate massacre, but we are not bound by any of it because it was put together by crude, uncultured human mammals."

“That which can be asserted without evidence can be dismissed without evidence.”

“Human decency is not derived from religion. It precedes it.”

“To terrify children with the image of hell, to consider women an inferior creation – is that good for the world?”

“To 'choose' dogma and faith over doubt and experience is to throw out the ripening vintage and to reach greedily for the Kool-Aid.”

“One must state it plainly. Religion comes from the period of human prehistory where nobody – not even the mighty Democritus who concluded that all matter was made from atoms – had the smallest idea what was going on. It comes from the bawling and fearful infancy of our species, and is a babyish attempt to meet our inescapable demand for knowledge (as well as for comfort, reassurance and other infantile needs). Today the least educated of my children knows much more about the natural order than any of the founders of religion, and one would like to think – though the connection is not a fully demonstrable one – that this is why they seem so uninterested in sending fellow humans to hell.”

“Exceptional claims demand exceptional evidence.”

“For a lot of people, their first love is what they'll always remember. For me it's always been the first hate, and I think that hatred, though it provides often rather junky energy, is a terrific way of getting you out of bed in the morning and keeping you going. If you don't let it get out of hand, it can be canalized into writing. In this country where people love to be nonjudgmental when they can be, which translates as, on the whole, lenient, there are an awful lot of bubble reputations floating around that one wouldn't be doing one's job if one didn't itch to prick.”

“[George W. Bush] is lucky to be governor of Texas. He is unusually incurious, abnormally unintelligent, amazingly inarticulate, fantastically uncultured, extraordinarily uneducated, and apparently quite proud of all these things.”

“The gods that we’ve made are exactly the gods you’d expect to be made by a species that’s about half a chromosome away from being chimpanzee.”

“I suppose that one reason I have always detested religion is its sly tendency to insinuate the idea that the universe is designed with 'you' in mind or, even worse, that there is a divine plan into which one fits whether one knows it or not. This kind of modesty is too arrogant for me.”

“Organized religion is violent, irrational, intolerant, allied to racism, tribalism, and bigotry, invested in ignorance and hostile to free inquiry, contemptuous of women and coercive toward children.”

“We keep on being told that religion, whatever its imperfections, at least instills morality. On every side, there is conclusive evidence that the contrary is the case and that faith causes people to be more mean, more selfish, and perhaps above all, more stupid.”

“The essence of the independent mind lies not in what it thinks, but in how it thinks.”

“To be the father of growing daughters is to understand something of what Yeats evokes with his imperishable phrase 'terrible beauty.' Nothing can make one so happily exhilarated or so frightened: it's a solid lesson in the limitations of self to realize that your heart is running around inside someone else's body. It also makes me quite astonishingly calm at the thought of death: I know whom I would die to protect and I also understand that nobody but a lugubrious serf can possibly wish for a father who never goes away.”

“How dismal it is to see present day Americans yearning for the very orthodoxy that their country was founded to escape.”

“An old joke has an Oxford professor meeting an American former graduate student and asking him what he's working on these days. 'My thesis is on the survival of the class system in the United States.' 'Oh really, that's interesting: one didn't think there was a class system in the United States.' 'Nobody does. That's how it survives.”

“My own view is that this planet is used as a penal colony, lunatic asylum and dumping ground by a superior civilization, to get rid of the undesirable and unfit. I can't prove it, but you can't disprove it either.”

“Faith is the surrender of the mind; it's the surrender of reason, it's the surrender of the only thing that makes us different from other mammals. It's our need to believe, and to surrender our skepticism and our reason, our yearning to discard that and put all our trust or faith in someone or something, that is the sinister thing to me. Of all the supposed virtues, faith must be the most overrated.”

“It [Barack Obama's Nobel Peace Prize] would be like giving someone an Oscar in the hope that it would encourage them to make a decent motion picture.”

“When the late Pope John Paul II decided to place the woman so strangely known as 'Mother' Teresa on the fast track for beatification, and thus to qualify her for eventual sainthood, the Vatican felt obliged to solicit my testimony and I thus spent several hours in a closed hearing room with a priest, a deacon, and a monsignor, no doubt making their day as I told off, as from a rosary, the frightful faults and crimes of the departed fanatic. In the course of this, I discovered that the pope during his tenure had surreptitiously abolished the famous office of 'Devil’s Advocate,' in order to fast-track still more of his many candidates for canonization. I can thus claim to be the only living person to have represented the Devil pro bono.”

“Gullibility and credulity are considered undesirable qualities in every department of human life – except religion.”

“If I was told to sacrifice [my three children] to prove my devotion to God, if I was told to do what all monotheists are told to do and admire the man who said, ‘Yes, I’ll gut my kid to show my love of God,’ I’d say, ‘No, fuck you!’"

“God did not create man in his own image. Evidently, it was quite the other way about, which is the painless explanation for the profusion of gods and religions, and the fratricide both between and among faiths, that we see all about us and that has so retarded the development of civilization.”

“My own opinion is enough for me, and I claim the right to have it defended against any consensus, any majority, anywhere, any place, any time. And anyone who disagrees with this can pick a number, get in line and kiss my ass.”

Friday, December 16, 2011

Seal - It's A Man's, Man's, Man's World

If anyone needs me, I'll be in the bathroom


A few days ago, Anita sent me a link to a story in Gongwer, a state government newsletter, trumpeting the fact that Michigan’s unemployment rate “plunged” by 0.8 percentage points to 9.8 percent. It’s the first time in three years that the state’s unemployment rate dropped below 10 percent. (The national November unemployment rate is 8.6 percent.)

I wasn’t aware that a drop of eight-tenths of one percentage point was a “plunge,” but maybe I’m obsessing over word usage.

This was on the same day that I ran across an internet meme in Facebook stating, “There are more than 4 people unemployed for every open job; maybe ‘just get a job’ isn’t that simple.”

This is a reference, I assume, to comments made by that pompous, repulsive, insensitive slug known as Newt Gingrich, the GOP presidential candidate who admonished Occupy Wall Street protestors on Thanksgiving to just “get a job after you take a bath.”

Or maybe it relates to former Gingrich competitor Herman Cain’s insistence that if people who aren’t rich don’t have jobs, they have no one to blame but themselves.

In any event, Anita might have sent the link as just an FYI...or maybe it was because she’s tired of being the moneymaker in the family. My freelance writing career has thus far proven less than lucrative, to put it mildly, and she’s been shouldering the financial burden of our six-person family for some time now. It’s little comfort that in recent years there’s been a sharp rise in the number of married couples where a woman is left to bring home the bacon because hubby is unemployed.

According to the Center for American Progress, “The reason that more married couples now boast women as the primary breadwinners is because men have experienced greater job losses than women over the course of this recession, losing three out of every four jobs lost.”

So is it still a man’s world? Yes and no.

Wage inequality remains a problem. In 2007, the median weekly earnings of women working full-time were $614, or 80 percent of men's $766. And when comparing the median weekly earnings of people aged 16 to 24, young women earned 92 percent of what young men earned ($409 and $443, respectively).

But women did account for 51 percent of all workers in the high-paying management and professional occupations in 2007. They outnumbered men as financial managers, human resource managers, education administrators, medical and health services managers, accountants and auditors, budget analysts and physical therapists as well as in occupations like registered nurse and preschool, kindergarten, elementary, middle and secondary school teacher. Women also outnumbered men in the fields of property, real estate, and social and community association management.

I wonder how many employers replace men with women because they can get away with paying women less.

Another information source, the Pew Research Center, contradicts the Center for American Progress. According to its analysis of more recent data, men gained 768,000 jobs and lowered their unemployment rate by 1.1 percentage points to 9.5 percent from “the end of the recession in June 2009 through May of this year.”

Guess I’d better take a bath now.



Sources: U.S. Department of Labor, Think Progress, Center for American Progress, Pew Research Center.