Reaching Boredom

There is a moment in any recovery - from a cold, the flu, or surgery - when one feels too good to just rest and stay put, but too bad to really do anything. When I encounter that moment, I know that I am well on my way to getting better.

The tension between the two feelings often results in boredom. The rather mindless pursuits to pass the time of being really ill are old hat and very tired (Wheel of Fortune at three in the morning only works when one is actively trying for the most mind-blotto state possible!); the desire to do more cannot yet be realized.

In between the two is a kind of conflict. Why is it always at this time that I want to embrace every New Year's resolution, every whim to take up a new interest, every promise to spend more time taking photos or writing poetry? All the things I have ever wanted to do seem pressing and desirable, right now.

And of course, the presence of such desire creates frustration and boredom. Every other idea I come up with seems unacceptable. Yes, I now have the time to re-read A Search for Time Lost, but so totally don't want to.

Probably, the conflict propels us forward. I'm not sure how long one can stay in that space without changing something and suspect that it is much more a function of personality than it is a function of recovery.

So, I am planning for the day when I have the overwhelming desire to plant an herb garden and write symbolist poetry by trying to think of things I can reasonably and contentedly do. If anyone has any suggestions, feel free to share!


(photo credit)

7 Days of Gifts

Where my parents got this lovely tradition, I have no idea. For several years now, they have prepared a box containing seven individually wrapped gifts which they send to friends and family who are sick or having surgery, anything where the treatment and recovery are either long, scary, or both.

The gifts are small and fun - books, stuffed animals, chocolate, nice soap - whatever would cheer up a sick person.

The most interesting aspect of all this is the stuffed animal which they include in every gift package. Everyone so far has especially taken to the little fuzzy toy - young and old, business and professional people!

There is something reassuring and childlike about a stuffed animal that gives us all comfort.

I received my first gift box last week, this surgery being the first time I've needed such TLC since my parents have been doing the gift boxes.

And like everyone else, I'm enjoying the books and the chocolate. But I'm especially enjoying the stuffed cat which I keep beside me most of the time (it may not purr, but is vastly better behaved than our three live cats!).

I am recovering nicely, with the help of the cats - stuffed and live - and tons of support from my wonderful husband.

A Tale of Three Kitties

Every blogger can surely be forgiven for one pet post. Mine is about our three cats, Lady, Boots, and Bandit.

Lady and Boots are mother and daughter, and Lady's age is unknown. She wandered into the yard one day in March 1997 and had her kittens in the woodpile sometime that May.

Lady is sleek and gorgeous, but showing her age - arthritis in one back leg and pigmentation in her eyes. She plays with her cloth mouse and meows loudly for a few minutes, two or three times during the night - Lady's opera, my husband calls the nightly performance. When I go out, she puts the mousie in my slipper.

Lady is a class act - loyal and lovely.

Boots is Lady's kitten. She is fluffy, cute, and very vocal. Unlike her mother who restricts her vocals to the night, Boots "talks" pretty much all day long.

In spite of a somewhat complaining nature, Boots has a sweet personality.

She does need rather a lot of grooming, especially in the summer. It is impossible to give her a pill.

Now twelve, she has spent much of her life perfecting her diva behaviour. She enjoys being carried to her food bowl, which has to be positioned just so.

Bandit is the newest addition to the family, appearing in the driveway a few days before Christmas 2003, a neutered male, about a year old.

What can I say about Bandit? He shreds drywall, wallpaper, and furniture.  Mostly, he will drink only out of a bottle held by one of us, refusing water in a bowl, sometimes to the point of dehydration.

 He goes out the backdoor and promptly goes to the front to be let in there. He nearly died from kidney failure, but responded to 24-hr care for long enough to recover.

He talks, growls, chirrups, and loves to play with elastic bands. He is Mr. Personality, and everyone loves him, although at times I could happily throttle him.

Most of the time, Lady and Boots snuggle together, and Bandit sleeps elewhere.

But every once in awhile, there is peace in the cat family -

no talking, no opera, no squabbles, and no mousies.

I do indeed love all of them, but whoever said that dogs have owners and cats have staff knew the truth of things for cat lovers.

Singin' and Dancin' - Part 2

Unfortunately, my love affair at three with Carmen Miranda's singing and dancing ended abruptly when my grandparents moved away and took their TV with them. So for a few years, I had audio only - records and radio - to practice with for my show biz career.

My parents subscribed to a kids' record club, and I had awesome music to sing, dance, and play to.

One play record was called "Me and My Scarf," a play-along album that walked a child through various scenarios in which a scarf was the critical prop - "I am a WWI flying ace with my scarf;" "I trek through the desert with my scarf across my face."

Other favourites were "Puss and Boots," which is still going strong, and Prokofiev's "Peter and the Wolf." (My childhhod tastes were rather eclectic.)

I would swoop around the living room with my father's scarf and sing along with all the music.

My most favourite by far (with the exception of Carmen Miranda!) was "McNamara's Band," a rousing, clanging tune that I played over and over (and over), marching all the while around in a circle, probably with a scarf.

There are several versions of this popular song, but I most liked a big band version, similar to this one with Dennis Day and the Harry James band. The bigness of the music lent great authority and gusto to my routine. I would have been in heaven if I could have seen the video!

Singin' and Dancin' - Part 1

When I was about three, my grandparents got a TV, and I could never wait to visit and watch.

In those early days of television, programming was still "iffy" and there seemingly weren't enough ads to fill all the available time (those really were the good old days!). The spaces between programs were filled with musical interludes, and they were what drew me over and over to this magical instrument.

The musical interludes were footage of song and/or dance routines from movies, from Broadway, and from famous clubs. All that singing and dancing totally wowed me, and it was probably then that I decided to become a dancer.

My all-time favourite appealed to everything a three-year-old could want in a role model for show biz success. Carmen Miranda was my idol. She could sing. She could dance. She wore fabulous, colourful costumes. She sang about far away exotic places with palm trees and with a hypnotic Latin beat.

Bu absolutely best of all  - she wore fruit on her head! It is probably next to impossible to convey the great joy and glee I had about that fruit. I was enthralled; someone so talented, and so pretty, and SHE HAD FRUIT ON HER HEAD. She did wear other millinery concoctions which were quite spectacular, but the fruit was the very best.

I was in heaven, and whenever I heard the announcement for a musical interlude, I would run like crazy, hoping it would be Carmen Miranda.




She still appeals to me. I guess we don't ever get over those firsts that captivate us.

Hip, Hip, Hooray!

Today is surgery day for me - total hip replacement. I am elated to start the process that will allow me to move more freely. I am aprehensive about any procedure involving needles, saws, and scalpels. I am resolute about the rehabilitation which is very precise, involved, and fairly lengthy.

When I am done, an x-ray will look like the one at right.

I have no idea why I have developed osteoarthritis, what they call "wear and tear" arthritis, as I have never been athletic. There are some possible underlying causes for anyone who develops this, but I think that the fact of its existence is, for most patients, reason enough to get treatment.

Apparently one in four people in North America will develop osteoarthritis in the hip according to About.com. That seems high, but maybe there is a matter of degree and not every hip deteriorates to the point of needing surgery.

I have done blog posts in advance and have them scheduled to come out regularly for the period of my recovery - I've grown attached to this blog and don't want to let it slide. Of course I won't be replying to comments as I usually do, but would love to get them anyway!

For some odd reason, I keep hearing this old school song over and over in my head. And, while it doesn't even mention hips, I will be able to sing and move along with The Wiggles in the future. Plus, for the rest of my life, I will get personalized attention from airport security.

Weird, Wild, Wonderful 4 - Jan 31 - Feb 6

Some new findings, some old favourites.

ThinkShop, a blog on history, politics, and literature (among other interesting and intelligent musings). This blog is very well-written by an educator who lives in Switzerland.

nthposition online magazine is hard to categorize and certainly extensive. Here are the sections, just to give an idea: Strangeness, Politics, Opinion, Places, People, Poetry, Fiction, Reviews, Artreviews, Discussion, Contributors, Links. Good writing; some eye-opening essays.

In These Times, always interesting, always pointed, always good reading:

In These Times is a newsmagazine committed to political and economic democracy and opposed to the dominance of transnational corporations and the tyranny of marketplace values over human values. In These Times is dedicated to reporting the news with the highest journalistic standards; to informing and analyzing movements for social, environmental and economic justice; and to providing an accessible forum for debate about the policies that shape our future.

Delineating Art, the blog of artist Elaine Cheung offers commentary on art and life. Many of her posts begin with a particular artist or piece and then lead out to a larger point. Thoughtful and interesting.

Electronic Clutter and the Mental Desktop

As a graduate student and beginning teacher of writing, I had the good fortune to work with Janet Giltrow, author of Academic Writing: Writing and Reading in the Disciplines. I have used her sound advice and techniques for many years now.

From Giltrow's book, I can picture the simple line drawings of someone at a desk - the mental "desktop" - dealing calmly and competently with a few desktop papers, and someone with little beads of sweat flying from the forehead, trying to deal with too much desktop clutter.

The desktop metaphor and simple visuals existed to help students learn to write with readers' limitations in mind - writers help readers manage clutter. Solid research shows that humans' processing abilities while reading require that help.

I was reminded of the drawings and their message while reading "Dividing Attention," by David Glenn in The Chronicle of Higher Education (1/31/10). The article addresses the growing problem of electronic distractions in classrooms, attitudes about multi-tasking "abilities," and scientific research on the issues.

Educators are rightly worried about students' attention in classes, as the students text, surf, and chat, while trying to learn the course material. Individual institutions and instructors deal with such distractions, successfully or otherwise, in a variety of ways, depending on their beliefs about "hyperattention" and the ability to multi-task - from outright bans on electronic gadgets to complete accommodation.

I have heard much nonsense about the generation of young people who have grown up "digital," much about their supposed super abilities and hyperattention - how they are so much better at working with all the digital bits on their mental desktops than their elders could possibly imagine.

Turns out that is just plain wrong!

The human brain hasn't changed in a generation. While people now work with many cognitive inputs at once - driving, texting, drinking coffee; and surfing, texting, listening to a lecture - they aren't processing any of it as well as when they focused on fewer things. 

The subjective feeling that one is accomplishing great things, being efficient and productive, acording to Glenn, incorrectly shores up the belief that one can do it all well.  I can't count the number of people I've met who insist that they can perfectly well text and drive (which is apparently worse for causing accidents than drinking and driving to a degree).

Brain research says otherwise.

After a certain point, we aren't processing at all, let alone efficiently. But in spite of conclusive and repeated scientific evidence, there will be those who will continue to think we should "get with the program" and respect the new processing powers of the young.  To too many in education, anecdotal evidence and the strength of their beliefs dictate practice.

There is probably no one solution to the problem. But doing nothing and believing the myths about super abilities accommodates our students right out of an education. And it does a great disservice to society.

We need ways to free our students' mental desktops from too much digital clutter and help them to regain focus on their studies. And we need to do it soon.


(cluttered desk photo credit)

Generation Gap

From time to time, there appear cute anecdotes from people "who knew they were old when..." My moment happened last year with two much younger male colleagues.

We had been talking, I don't remember exactly about what (another sign of age?), and one of them said, "I've never been to Mexico."

Both the rhythm and the content of that sentence reminded me of the Three Dog Night song "Never Been to Spain." Three Dog Night was one of the most popular bands of the 1970's, and the song is from their album Harmony, released in 1971.

EVERYONE of the "right" age knows this song.

Thinking I was just so terribly funny, I said, with great deadpan delivery, "I've never been to Spain, but I kind of like the music" (the first line of the song).

Both of my much younger male colleagues, being polite young men, looked at me with great seriousness and said, "Oh, is that so." And "Oh, really."

Neither of them had ever heard of Three Dog Night, let alone this song. They showed that respectful and somewhat quizzical indulgence of old people who just don't realize that they are no longer hip.

I was thirty years and more out of date; neither of them was even born when that song was released. My time of being in the thick of things, of cultural references, had passed, and the fact was staring at me in the persons of two non-comprehending but courteous young men. At that moment, I knew!


So, without further ado, some nostalgia for the older persons among us and a little 70's culture for the young. And some 70's psychedelic visuals.

Manufacturing Power with Words

We glibly throw around the idea that words have great power, which is true, but we don't usually think overly about who has the power to wield that power. Not everyone does, at least not beyond the personal sphere.

I can call you a bad name, or a good one, and hurt or help your feelings. Repeated name calling, for good or ill, can also influence a child's development over time. But I can't, by myself, label social policy, cultural attitudes, spending behaviour, and the level of support for wars, governments, and businesses with my words, at least not with great influence.

The power to use words to shape huge social issues and attitudes rests with those very power brokers with the most control and the most at stake - governments, media, big business.

Of course, this idea is not new: One famous example is Edward Herman and Noam Chomsky's Manufacturing Consent. Media is big business and editorial policy functions to keep the media outlet in good standing with news providers, especially with government.

The book traces the uses of the words "terror" and "terrorist," as examples, and how the labels are applied (or not applied) as the political currency of people, groups, and countries changes. The power to call someone a terrorist (or not) and make it stick shapes public attitudes towards law, policy, and actions.

In a recent post , about "looting" in Haiti, I linked to an article by Rebecca Solnit in which she correctly sees that the media is really creating much of the "looting" in Haiti, simply by using the term over and over and showing pictures with captions that lead the reader to see what the media wants the reader to see - looting!

Solnit proposed the term "emergency requistioning" instead. In a comment on the article, corfubob suggested "rescuing" (resources) as a useful term. Most likely, neither term will have much influence because there are too many power sources lined up behind the term "looting" -   property owners in Haiti, the predisposition of media to focus on property issues, even racial attitudes, according to Solnit, lurking in the coverage.

Yet we do have the power, jointly, to wield our own words and resist the words and labels we disagree with. Web 2.0 and the internet, generally, give individuals' words more power. The last US presidential election was won and lost, at least in part, on the internet.

Rachel Maddow at msnbc has exposed the corporate roots of many of the grassroots organizations opposing health care reform in the US. Big pharma and others well understand the power of people's words when they all join together and the media listens to the growing chorus of voices.

Bloggers Unite is a good place for people to wield the power of their words in unison with others. Writing letters to editors, politicians, and businesses is another good way to have your words gain more power as they join together with those of others who write.

So sing out - alone if you want to. But find a choir to join and you can sing out with influence.

When Good Food Goes Bad

All that glitters is not gold.  It's potatoes - one of the most important imports that Columbus brought to Europe from his travels. Potatoes, although not as glamourous as gold, became the subsistence crop for Ireland and for much of central and eastern Europe. They are the world's fourth largest food crop, after rice, wheat, and maize, and are still a main staple in the diet and favourite in the recipes of several cultures.

Potatoes seem so down to earth and homey, the backdrop for turkey gravy, a side dish to most everything, but they provide a nutritional wallop of fibre, vitamins, carbohydrate, even protein. The nutritional data below is from the site for The International Year of the Potato-2008. (Who knew?)

So how does a good potato go bad? (And I don't mean by spoiling.) Human intervention is one way; Mother Nature's intervention is the other. Both have caused and continue to cause human suffering.

Perhaps the most famous and horrible of Mother Nature's interventions into the goodness of the potato happened at various times in Ireland, most notably in the Great Famine of 1845-1852 when the potato blight infected the crop. Mother Nature was also responsible for a famine in Ireland in 1740-1741, sending cold and rain that ruined the harvests.

The disease in the potato crop brought cultural, social, political, governmental, religious, racial, and economic problems the Irish experienced at the hands of the British to a tragic head that cost the lives of more than one million people. At least one million more emigrated. During the same period, the potato blight also infected crops throughout Europe, causing much hardship.

So it is a little surprising that we go to such lengths to take such a good food that can sustain us, indeed can form the bulk of our diet, and mess it up almost beyond recognition. Baked, boiled, steamed mashed, the naked potato is a healthful food, in spite of what some diet gurus may tell us.

What we do to it tastes so awfully good, but make of the potato something that is actually not very good for us. We break down its molecules and reconstitute them; we deep fry them, often adding trans fat, always adding many calories; we load them up with additions that drown their goodness.

There are hundreds of recipes for potatoes that are healthful or can easily be made so. We should value the lowly potato and treat it, and ourselves, with more respect.

There has been so much suffering from Mother Nature's intervention that we don't need to add the self-inflicted suffering of the diseases caused by good foods gone bad.