Most of the literature says the Wi-Fi in our National Parks is reliable. But I've been surprised to learn differently after arriving at a few of the parks over the last several years. Which makes near future reflections from the bell curve - the road iteration - an open question.
Now if things do go well in cyberspace, the next witty communique will be coming from either West Texas (Big Bend or Guadalupe Mountains National Park) or Carlsbad Caverns National Park in New Mexico. Much as I love skiing and don't mind New Jersey winters, being in warm weather for ten days has a lot of appeal right now; it was punishing to walk this past weekend in NYC. And I never miss scraping ice off my windshield, do you? Besides, being able to visit three National Parks in one trip is catnip to a goal-oriented, love-to-scratch-things-off-a-list guy.
When you get a chance, look at a map of this part of the U.S. Although I've been out that way previously, it still astonishes me to see the distances between towns. Also, while doing our research, the city website of Carlsbad, New Mexico made it easy for us to decide how long we'd spend there. It said - "There are no events planned at this time." OK, I guess one night will do it.
Which National Park is next on your list?
Wednesday, January 11, 2017
Tuesday, January 10, 2017
Kosher? Only This Bell Curve Maven Knows
Which group - aside from those with which you have a strong ethnic, racial, religious affiliation - exerts a significant impact on everyday expressions likely to pop out of your mouth?
Oy vey, is this easy for me. Had I gone to school among only Baptists or been raised in rural North Dakota, what would I have grown up calling the schmucks, klutzes, and schlemiels I encountered? How about later in life when I had to schlep stuff around or wanted to kibitz with others? For me, the word shtick has always nailed it better than that oh-so-English expression "bit" and also sounds less hoity-toity than "trope". When trying not to be crude, doesn't substituting chutzpah for cojones - or its English equivalent that rhymes with halls - work really well? There is no better word for torturous lounge music than schmaltz. Kissing ass = bad visual; schmoozing = harmless. Doing a good deed sounds nice but not as lofty doing a mitzvah, don't you agree?
Continue my kvetching? Only a nebbish (aka schnook) would risk his readers - especially the goyim among them - doing so. I'd prefer to sign off and remain your bell curve mensch. Shalom.
Oy vey, is this easy for me. Had I gone to school among only Baptists or been raised in rural North Dakota, what would I have grown up calling the schmucks, klutzes, and schlemiels I encountered? How about later in life when I had to schlep stuff around or wanted to kibitz with others? For me, the word shtick has always nailed it better than that oh-so-English expression "bit" and also sounds less hoity-toity than "trope". When trying not to be crude, doesn't substituting chutzpah for cojones - or its English equivalent that rhymes with halls - work really well? There is no better word for torturous lounge music than schmaltz. Kissing ass = bad visual; schmoozing = harmless. Doing a good deed sounds nice but not as lofty doing a mitzvah, don't you agree?
Continue my kvetching? Only a nebbish (aka schnook) would risk his readers - especially the goyim among them - doing so. I'd prefer to sign off and remain your bell curve mensch. Shalom.
Sunday, January 8, 2017
A Sadness More Honestly Earned
The majority of my extended interactions with young adults energize me. I walk away from most of these conversations with optimism for the future and the sense that these folks are on a path that will lead to some degree of fulfillment. What are some of your key takeaways talking with people who are in the early stage of their adult lives?
Possibly because my predominant sentiment is so positive, the infrequent conversations I do have that leave me with the opposite feeling - call it mild dread for the person speaking - really linger. When I detect a clear wistfulness in the personal or career story of someone much younger than I, it gives me real pause.
The most recent story I heard tinged with regret from someone very young brought me immediately back to another one very similar in tone - if not specifics - from many years ago. I was still a young adult myself when the new husband of a friend told me how he already knew how his entire life was going to look. As that conversation continued - becoming more like a confession when he used the word "trapped" - I recall reverting to silence. To that point, I had been speaking of my passion for music - my main source of income then - my cross country driving and hitchhiking adventures, my spiritual goals, etc.
It's very possible I was crowing in that long ago conversation before a feeling of sadness for this young man overtook me and I shut my mouth. In the most recent conversation there was no crowing from this slightly wiser sixty seven year old; my coaching hat was on my much balder head this time. And the sadness I felt was more honestly earned.
Possibly because my predominant sentiment is so positive, the infrequent conversations I do have that leave me with the opposite feeling - call it mild dread for the person speaking - really linger. When I detect a clear wistfulness in the personal or career story of someone much younger than I, it gives me real pause.
The most recent story I heard tinged with regret from someone very young brought me immediately back to another one very similar in tone - if not specifics - from many years ago. I was still a young adult myself when the new husband of a friend told me how he already knew how his entire life was going to look. As that conversation continued - becoming more like a confession when he used the word "trapped" - I recall reverting to silence. To that point, I had been speaking of my passion for music - my main source of income then - my cross country driving and hitchhiking adventures, my spiritual goals, etc.
It's very possible I was crowing in that long ago conversation before a feeling of sadness for this young man overtook me and I shut my mouth. In the most recent conversation there was no crowing from this slightly wiser sixty seven year old; my coaching hat was on my much balder head this time. And the sadness I felt was more honestly earned.
Saturday, January 7, 2017
Chicken and Egg, Early 2017
How would your life have been altered had those most responsible for your development expected extraordinary things from you?
That hypothetical question has had me in a grip for some time. If it strikes you as unanswerable, consider this: In 1834, Transcendentalist Caroline Dall's father scoffed when his friends questioned his twelve year old daughter attending Emerson's lectures. He responded - "I expect her to write abstracts." How to measure the impact of a bar set that high? Who has ever expected so much of you?
My parents expected all four of us would complete a college education though they themselves barely made it through high school. By their Depression era standards that was an exceptional expectation; I can never repay them. And as my wife wisely coached me as Dall's at once inspiring and dispiriting tale became a recent topic of conversation, my latest dilemma is classic chicken and egg territory. That is, is it first the bar being set too low for some of us or ... is it that extraordinary is not a word meant to be used in the same sentence with some of us?
If I occasionally expect extraordinary things from others in the future, perhaps this iteration of my incessant navel-gazing will serve a purpose. When did you last expect something extraordinary from someone close to you?
That hypothetical question has had me in a grip for some time. If it strikes you as unanswerable, consider this: In 1834, Transcendentalist Caroline Dall's father scoffed when his friends questioned his twelve year old daughter attending Emerson's lectures. He responded - "I expect her to write abstracts." How to measure the impact of a bar set that high? Who has ever expected so much of you?
My parents expected all four of us would complete a college education though they themselves barely made it through high school. By their Depression era standards that was an exceptional expectation; I can never repay them. And as my wife wisely coached me as Dall's at once inspiring and dispiriting tale became a recent topic of conversation, my latest dilemma is classic chicken and egg territory. That is, is it first the bar being set too low for some of us or ... is it that extraordinary is not a word meant to be used in the same sentence with some of us?
If I occasionally expect extraordinary things from others in the future, perhaps this iteration of my incessant navel-gazing will serve a purpose. When did you last expect something extraordinary from someone close to you?
Thursday, January 5, 2017
Exploring, Appreciating & Uncovering
Since deciding to initiate my own book club, I've detected a small shift in my focus when reading fiction. Instead of focusing as much on the prose itself, while reading the last several novels, my attention has turned more to ideas I believe the author is trying to explore. Ann Patchett's 2001 novel "Bel Canto" is illustrative of my recent reading shift.
"Bel Canto" is easily summarized. An international group of notable guests at a lavish birthday party in an unnamed South American country are being entertained by the world's most beloved opera soprano. The guests are taken hostage by a group of terrorists who plan to exchange the life of the country's President for their demands. The President is not at the party. A stalemate ensues.
I was engaged - if not riveted - from the start. The prose was strong - if not luminous - from the opening sentence. More significantly, the quality of the prose never diminished - this is a talented author. So, turning the well written and reasonably compelling pages, I found myself digging deeper and feeling gratified each time I did so. About 2/3 in, Patchett uses a story told by a minor character to reveal one of her ideas - how appreciation for art enlarges life. But here's where authorial talent trumps even an important idea like that. The story is being told by a Russian to a Japanese translator so that he can, in turn, translate that Russian into English. Each time the translator struggles, Patchett is exploring a richer idea. The difficulty each of us have putting our appreciation for art into words.
Both of Patchett's ideas are central to my own life experience. And that's not all she has on her mind in "Bel Canto". If you've read or get around to reading this novel, please tell me what you uncover.
"Bel Canto" is easily summarized. An international group of notable guests at a lavish birthday party in an unnamed South American country are being entertained by the world's most beloved opera soprano. The guests are taken hostage by a group of terrorists who plan to exchange the life of the country's President for their demands. The President is not at the party. A stalemate ensues.
I was engaged - if not riveted - from the start. The prose was strong - if not luminous - from the opening sentence. More significantly, the quality of the prose never diminished - this is a talented author. So, turning the well written and reasonably compelling pages, I found myself digging deeper and feeling gratified each time I did so. About 2/3 in, Patchett uses a story told by a minor character to reveal one of her ideas - how appreciation for art enlarges life. But here's where authorial talent trumps even an important idea like that. The story is being told by a Russian to a Japanese translator so that he can, in turn, translate that Russian into English. Each time the translator struggles, Patchett is exploring a richer idea. The difficulty each of us have putting our appreciation for art into words.
Both of Patchett's ideas are central to my own life experience. And that's not all she has on her mind in "Bel Canto". If you've read or get around to reading this novel, please tell me what you uncover.
Wednesday, January 4, 2017
Pleasure, Heartache, The Past
Very shortly after I started to blog in March 2011, a friend gifted me a small journal called "One Line A Day: A Five Year Memory Book". It immediately became my latest writing vessel and a timely one; I've used it ever since to record the title of my daily blog post.
I've been reasonably consistent using "One Line A Day" (I'm now on my second), but some days, the title of that day's blog post is my only entry. Such was the case exactly three years ago. On 1/4/14, all that is written there is "Pleasure & Heartache". Searching yesterday for something in that journal - and noticing those opposing words - got me wondering what might have prompted a reflection like that. Was it my guitar playing? A relationship? What gives you both pleasure & heartache? Would the answer be the same today as it was three years ago? If yes, what steps have you taken to mitigate that tension?
Memory is so fragile. Give someone you love a journal. Even words that don't add up may help that someone hold onto a small piece of their past, including some parts involving you.
Tuesday, January 3, 2017
Walk On Water, Do You? Skip This Post
What book do you remember displaying as a public prop, i.e., one that you were reasonably sure you'd never finish but carried around anyway?
The reason you held onto that prop can remain your secret, unless you're brave enough to step into the bell curve confession booth. Maybe you wanted to impress an older sibling, a smart friend, or an observant teacher. Perhaps you hoped the book - if carried with sufficient flair - would prompt some object of affection to engage you in deep conversation, with that conversation a prelude to more erotic adventures. Keep your rationale secret, but at least own up to your chicanery via telling me and others what the book was. Then let us use our imaginations to imagine why you did it.
I'm just a little embarrassed to admit I did this enough early in my reading life that several of my own bogus titles popped into my head but only after my wife admitted that "The Odyssey" was her 6th grade prop. Weeks after abandoning "The Count of Monte Cristo" - a book my beloved Father told me I must read - I carted that classic around. And as late as my undergraduate years, Thomas Pynchon's first novel "V" was a constant - though unread - companion. Pynchon was so cool - if completely inscrutable - in the wild late 60's. I'm saving my most recent book-as-prop tale until one of you comes clean.
I'm guessing there'll be readers claiming they've never acted out this harmless charade. Remind me when I next see you to have you perform that walk-on-water bit, OK?
The reason you held onto that prop can remain your secret, unless you're brave enough to step into the bell curve confession booth. Maybe you wanted to impress an older sibling, a smart friend, or an observant teacher. Perhaps you hoped the book - if carried with sufficient flair - would prompt some object of affection to engage you in deep conversation, with that conversation a prelude to more erotic adventures. Keep your rationale secret, but at least own up to your chicanery via telling me and others what the book was. Then let us use our imaginations to imagine why you did it.
I'm just a little embarrassed to admit I did this enough early in my reading life that several of my own bogus titles popped into my head but only after my wife admitted that "The Odyssey" was her 6th grade prop. Weeks after abandoning "The Count of Monte Cristo" - a book my beloved Father told me I must read - I carted that classic around. And as late as my undergraduate years, Thomas Pynchon's first novel "V" was a constant - though unread - companion. Pynchon was so cool - if completely inscrutable - in the wild late 60's. I'm saving my most recent book-as-prop tale until one of you comes clean.
I'm guessing there'll be readers claiming they've never acted out this harmless charade. Remind me when I next see you to have you perform that walk-on-water bit, OK?
Sunday, January 1, 2017
(A Head) Start - Stop - Continue: 2017
This is the sixth consecutive New Year's Day featuring the start-stop-continue model. And though I got a semi-head start in 2017, don't let my tiny fudging dissuade you from declaring here publicly what you will start, stop, and continue this year. Most every year I get a few more pledges from readers. Why not join the fun?
I began publicizing my own book club in early December. But since the first meeting is not until later this month, I am counting the club's kickoff as my start pledge for 2017.
In 2017, I will stop postponing the writing of a book that has been in my head for five years. I lost many of my notes for that book by not backing up my laptop before it crashed in November 2015. Then last September I somehow emptied a full water bottle into my backpack while in the Denver airport; more notes were destroyed in that second act of self-sabotage. It's time to get down to the business of actually writing the thing and stop pretending I need time to gather "more notes".
In 2017, I will continue the project of getting a CD made with my original songs featuring my daughter on vocals. We've finished the first cut of about half the material; the finish line is in sight. The really good news? This was the "start" pledge made in my first start-stop-continue post on January 1 2012.
Let's all wish one another good luck.
I began publicizing my own book club in early December. But since the first meeting is not until later this month, I am counting the club's kickoff as my start pledge for 2017.
In 2017, I will stop postponing the writing of a book that has been in my head for five years. I lost many of my notes for that book by not backing up my laptop before it crashed in November 2015. Then last September I somehow emptied a full water bottle into my backpack while in the Denver airport; more notes were destroyed in that second act of self-sabotage. It's time to get down to the business of actually writing the thing and stop pretending I need time to gather "more notes".
In 2017, I will continue the project of getting a CD made with my original songs featuring my daughter on vocals. We've finished the first cut of about half the material; the finish line is in sight. The really good news? This was the "start" pledge made in my first start-stop-continue post on January 1 2012.
Let's all wish one another good luck.
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