Nixon and Frost in Hickory Community Theatre

Nixon was here last night – at the Hickory Community Theatre.  He’s changed.  Doesn’t look like he used to.  But it was him.  I could feel him.  My flesh crawled uneasily beneath my shirt, wondering what it should do next.  I told it “Cool it.  It’s not really Nixon, don’t worry”  Then he opened his mouth and Nixon came out, and I didn’t know what to say.  I just sat there real tight.

The performance tonight brought it all back again  – just for tonight only, but that is more than enough if you remember the real thing. It’s like when something really rough happens to you and you are in shock for a while, and you get over it and begin to forget about it.  But then – you have a dream, and it all comes back.  This was that dream taking place tonight at the Hickory Community Theatre, where the stage slowly faded away and turned into my own memory.

Frost came here tonight too.  Sir David, as he has now become known.  Insouciant as always, tuned into some other frequency, one that is inaudible to earthlings but suitable for tripping through the various heavens, occasionally stopping here and there – tonight he stopped in Hickory. Because Nixon was here.  And they met again in battle.  Nixon won, of course.  It wasn’t even a close contest.  Nothing ever is with Nixon.  But Nixon STILL doesn’t know when enough is enough - he only know how to kill – he never learned how to quit when he was ahead and he blew it again tonight.  Just like Nixon always did.

My hat is off to Joshua Propst who played David Frost, and Ralph Mangum who played Richard Nixon.  

Hickory Snippet

Took my Honda Civic in for work at Hickory Honda.  While writing in the waiting room on my iPad - using their free Wi-fi - I noticed some of the other people in the room.  A group of three, apparently Hmongs, were speaking very quietly to each other and were not audible.  An elderly couple was speaking quietly to each other in German, a great burley man with a backward-facing ball cap, an athletic undershirt and flip-flops was talking with his little son in Spanish, and a very well-dressed man was curled up in a chair arguing with someone on his cellphone in Japanese. The TV was hopelessly mired in English.

Who IS Ted Pope?

Even the moon was curious, shining in through the window of Taste Full Beans, trying to peep under Ted Pope’s cap brim.  It came from the other side of the sky just like Ted did, and the moon wasn’t even supposed to be up then - and Ted wasn’t even supposed to be here then - but that was then.  And last night was now.

Last night Ted was talking poetry and reading from sheets that had other words written on them.  And he knew we didn’t understand him and he also knew that was because we couldn’t  go those places where he goes.  He sees things other people don’t  notice, and he calls those things out and talks to them, and then he tells us what they told him. And he screams at us, and he pointed directly at ME last night, and I didn't even know what was going on. 

He attracts creatures from the night, other people who come in and regale us and shout at us, and throw money at us and then leave.  Fortunately we had stabilizing influences at Taste Full Beans last night.  Tim Peeler was there, a real calming influence, and a posse from Linconton brought order and sanity to the place so we could all go home - rattled a bit, but still coherent.

And you know what?  I don’t think Ted was really even there – I think we just imagined the whole thing . But.  I got a paper wad! I caught it in the air, straight from Ted.  What was written on it?  Don’t know.  Haven't opened it up – yet.  I’m going to meet the moon tonight out on my back deck and read it to her.  She wanted it real bad.   I'll shout and stomp and point at her, and we'll both feel better.

Pacifica String Quartet in Hickory, NC

The Pacifica Quartet held a high-level discussion of stringed instruments in the Monroe Auditorium on the campus of Lenoir-Rhyne University, Friday night at 7:30 P.M.  The discussion included testing the limits of both strings and audience perception as it explored some of the thoughts and ideas of Ludwig van Beethoven, Dmitri Shastakovich and Robert Schumann.

Brandon Vamos

The group resides at the University of Illinois, is resident performing artist at University of Chicago, and Visiting Artists in Chamber Music in Cambridge, Massachusetts.  Their music has been presented in Lincoln Center,  New York, San Francisco, and abroad. in 2006 they won the Avery Fisher Career Grant, and in 2009 they received the Grammy Award for Best Chamber Music Performance.  Upcoming presentations are scheduled for  Tokyo’s Suntory Hall,  London’s Wigmore Hall, and at the New York Metropolitan Museum of Art.


http://www.pacificaquartet.com

The Crushed Olive in Hickory, NC

The Crushed Olive has moved in to Union Square in Hickory, NC.  It brings with it a very special atmosphere normally reserved for great metropolitan centers like New York City or San Francisco that move a lot of money and its people have traveled widely and hail from many countries.

Well, the Crushed Olive can be hypnotic.  Your eyes tend to unfocus as you pass over the threshold, and your sense of smell comes forth and takes over.  The eyes return to focus on canisters that grab your attention and pull you right into their midst.  Tiny plastic cups  conveniently stacked between the canisters beg you to sample the contents of any (all?) of the containers, and small chunks of bread are available help neutralize your taste between samples.  

Most of the containers are filled with either balsamic vinegars or olive oils, and there are more variations on both of these themes than are currently in your entire imagination (unless you have already been into the Crushed Olive).

Are the samples good?  Of course, but that’s not the point. And there are not really a lot of nuances in the Crushed Olive repertoire either.  The canisters of oils and vinegars simply dispense new horizons of experience to the explorers who stand beside them savoring tastes they have never dreamed of before.

Beneath the canisters are rows of empty bottles.  When you find an oil or vinegar you want to take home, an attendant will fill one of the bottles for  you - either full size or half size - and then they will seal the bottles so they can’t possibly leak on the way home.

Most of the bottles will cost about $15 or so, but there are important variations running up to $25 or $30 for truffle oils.  The half size bottles run around $9.  I would like to see a still smaller bottle size for, say $5 or so.  Because - there is a lot of stuff here that is really new to me  and I would like to take several bottles home to try out .

So head on down to Union Square.  Go to the Crushed Olive.  It’s in Julia Rush’s  old stomping grounds.  Step inside - just to pick up a list of the varieties available for tasting - that’s all (heh-heh).  Don’t smell anything, and above all don’t taste any samples - well, maybe you could taste just one. Why not?

                                                              

Poetry Alive, Hickory, NC. Poets Al Maginnes & Larry Johnson

Poets are really not just people - 

they are not like you and me. 
They may see 

the same things we think we see,
but they see it in different places inside their beings,

and it rings bells there that we don't hear, 
and plays tunes we don’t understand,

and they speak with demons and enlightened beings other

than those few we know.

Poets send out light we see all the time,

and squint before we shield our eyes.

But now they peer over the lectern staring right at us!

And they open an old rusty door somewhere deep inside of us 

and show us - not a new world somewhere 

way out there - but a vast ancient world, still asleep,

deep within our most secret places.

Hickory Choral Society at Corinth Reformed Church

Now in  their thirty-third season, the Hickory Choral Society  performed their annual Christmas Concert at the Corinth Reformed Church in Hickory on December 3, 4, and 5.  

We have heard good choral groups before, but this is a special, joyful collection of artists having fun singing those great old songs of the Christmas season along with some of the less well known melodies of ancient tradition.  They were accompanied by their Chamber Orchestra of about 35 performers including violins, cellos, flute, oboe, clarinet, horns, harp, tuba, percussion and more.  

The church is a perfect combination of architecture, ambiance, and acoustics.  The audience apparently is as familiar with the program as the performers are, and they too were a group of happy people having fun by being joyful together.  One more time when we felt we were just a small part of a large collection of people who are happy to call Hickory their home.

Eat, Love, Pray.

This is a story about a  flower that didn’t want to bloom where it had been placed when the time came for it to blossom out. 


This is perhaps the untold story of womankind since the beginning of the world  - that, and the fact that they have no choice!  - THIS is the fate of women all over the world from time immemorial as they are ordered:   dammit - BLOOM!  HERE!  NOW!


And they bloom and flower in all the forgotten places of the world bringing beauty and life into places that really aren't interested in any of that. 


Not this flower.  She uprooted herself, destroyed her containers and went off the shelf, out into the world.   And she found friendship and companionship everywhere she went - deep, new soil filled with unexpected nutrients.  She was exposed to transcendental meditative practices and apparently reached spiritual union with herself. Her roots found rich soil and grew deeply.  


But as she traveled and meditated she began to find her own personality as a spiritual destination and it took another crisis and finally a comment from a Bali holy man of understanding to open her eyes in time to become her own true self and open her blossoms and release her perfume and spread her story far and wide.


And her story will go far and her message will reach widely.

New Urbanism - Christopher Alexander

New Urbanism embraces concepts of pedestrian-friendly streets, mass-transit  town centers, and a mix of housing alternatives.    It certainly seems fitting and worthy of a certain urgency as we find that urban change is not just an option, but a process that is already taking place.  It started without us. 

Movies, television and commercial developers are already changing our communities to suit their needs.  That is not New  Urbanism  but market penetration.  Many of these changes are not helping our cities to develop into hometowns suitable for us to live and raise our children, but to support short-term market operations of large corporate organizations.   Big business is almost always an early player in new urban discussions.

Let me introduce to you another player,  one many people say began the New Urban movement himself:  Christopher Alexander has degrees in architecture from both Cambridge and Harvard.  He has taught at Berkley for more than 40 years.  He designed the campus of the University of Oregon in the 1970s, and designed more than 200  buildings, and written a number of books.  He also created the Center for Environmental Structure (patternLanguage.com) But perhaps his greatest contribution to  regional planning opportunities throughout the world is  his book:  A Pattern Language.   Alexander is listed as being one of several authors of the book but it is largely his pattern which is discussed.

Alexander  was born in Vienna and educated in Austria and England.  He has always been intrigued by the great cities and special buildings of Europe, Asia and America, and has studied them extensively.  He identified certain characteristics he found repeatedly employed in these special places, and he developed them into a “language of design”.   These characteristics, he says, are innately recognized by all people as being indicators of “home.”  Their value lies, he says not in their being “old”, but in being “timeless”. A Pattern Language calls these timeless characteristics “concepts” and analyzes 245 of them .  A few examples are: Holy Ground, Common Land, Small Public Squares, Street Cafes, Corner Groceries, Pedestrian Street, Tree Places, Garden Seats, Sitting Walls.  Each concept is discussed in detail, showing problems they solve, how they fit into the larger concepts of the natural world and larger developments and how they help create a capacity within themselves for the development of more specific ideas.  

  

The book moves from the general to the specific.  Near the end  you will find concepts applicable to specific rooms and parts of rooms like Different Chairs, Pools of Light, and Things from your Life. In the beginning, the discussion is of cities and regions : Distribution of Towns,  City and Country Fingers, Agricultural Valleys, Lace of Country Streets, Communities of 7000 People, Four-story Limit on Buildings, Web of Public Transportation and many others.

   

When my wife and I added a room to our house, we incorporated several concepts from A Pattern Language and created a room that did indeed bring our entire house alive.  It has dramatically changed our house and become the centerpiece of our family’s activities in every season. Successful as the construction of the room was, we didn’t even try to implement every  suggestion  we could have used.  Some did not fit our needs and some were not within our means but we felt we learned important lessons from studying all of them.

A Pattern Language, ISBN  0-19-501919-9,  is an important tool for anyone who loves houses or cities, especially for anyone who is preparing to buy, build or modify their home.  Certainly it is applicable to people who  are discussing the future of their neighborhoods, cities or regions.  The book has several hundred photographs, hundreds of sketches and drawings, and is in modular format so you only have to read the parts you are interested in.  But when you are through with those parts, don’t throw the book away, put it where you can find it quickly.  Because once you begin bringing regions,  cities,  neighborhoods, rooms, or just your own back  yard  “alive,” you will be back! 

 

Speaking of the concepts in his book, Alexander says:  “These tools allow anyone, and any group of people, to create beautiful, functional, meaningful places.   You can create a living world.”

Many of the world’s great old cities have had certain areas restored because they are very special places. Now  we Americans are becoming aware that our small towns are very special places too.  Many of us feel that cities like Asheville and Charlotte deserve not just preservation but the chance to “come alive” and  become hometowns where the people there can live fulfilling and creative lives.

 Mr Alexander has written another book that I am reading now. “The Nature of Order”.  Here he analyzes and tells “why” those magical concepts he numerated in The Pattern Language work.  It is a 4 volume offering, and it is worthy of another story.  But the Pattern Language will always be the key.  

The Simple Truth

The question for this enquiry asks: Does Moral Action Depend on Reasoning?

The enquiry follows:

Any problem can present different, even multiple objectives.  One objective will always be concerned with the structural issue presented, others may claim independent issues.  If “moral action” is involved, one objective will be concerned with what we can call for the purposes of this discussion, “morality”.  

The question assumes that if morality is involved then a dilemma may be present.  There is a problem to resolve but there may be conflicting objectives, both of which claim  priority under their own rules.  Each of these objectives can be rationally analyzed with respect to their own requirements,  that’s true - however those resolutions may still balance on a large degree of implied or accepted fantasy, and much of the reasoning that is involved may ultimately be found to be superficial.  How can we tell?

Logic is sound.  It makes sense.  It is perfect; it has to be.  It challenges itself and it proves itself, it constantly self-corrects.  But it cannot reach beyond itself.  It cannot be influenced by that of which it is unaware.  Morality, on the other hand is based on spiritual or emotional concepts.  It can “hear” that which cannot be said, can “see” that which is not visible, and can be influenced by underlying impressions of which it is not completely aware but which it senses in dimensions beyond its ability to  comprehend or describe in terms of logic.

Logic can be taught.  It is factual, it can be tested and proven or not.  Morality cannot be taught.  It can only be transmitted.  It cannot be tested, not by logic. Not all people are even aware of its existence.  A person walking a dog is totally unaware of the universe of smells through which the dog walks and which tells the dog of delights around the next corner or of terrors lurking behind the bushes.  His human escort plods along, perhaps “lost” in some errotically-intellectual conversation with himself.

A person might decide the best action to achieve his purpose would be to cheat someone else.  But if he believes a higher power will punish those who cheat others, then he might not cheat that person in order to not incur the wrath of that implied higher power.  That would be action based on “reasoning”, even though the premises for that reasoning would not itself be based on any form of absolute logic, but on a logic-like system developed to “prove” a moral, but still basically illogical, requirement.  In other words, it would be placing a framework similar to logic onto a construct of fantasy, then “proving” a desired point by using fantasy in a logical-like manner.

So.  Moral action, or action directed to achieving a moral objective obviously IS based on reasoning. The answer to that question is a definite “yes”.  But - that is not the real question which will lead us to the Simple Truth. The question we need to ask - and answer - is this: Is reasoning which leads to moral action based on logic or is it based on some other form of  knowledge?   

This line of conjecture now leads us a bit farther.  The confluence between logic and morality, or any other artificial but cohesive and imposed "rules" or "laws", will create a disturbance.  These non-logical rules and laws create a special type of knowledge or logic system which can be called “faith” or "revelation".   Faith can take the form of a theological creed, an obsessive madness, or that of an Einsteinien dream, all of which provide a form of  revelation or illogical knowledge which is not fully comprehended by the possessor of that revelation because it is a partial knowledge of a much larger universe which is denied to its owner by reason of the limited reach of his tools of logic.

As a person continues to learn and expand his intellectual horizons, he or she will find that logical knowledge alone will provide only greater access to the mental “cage”  which he has constructed and in which he has chosen to live, while at the same time barring access to the greater worlds which lie in abundance around that “cage”.  The borders of the “logic cage” can be expanded, but since they require “proof” and “facts” and “answers”  that fit together, it is a laborious process.  Remember it took Einstein more than 35  years to “prove” his theory of relativity which he had grasped instantly in a dream.

Logic is only a tool.  It is like a hammer or a skillet or a canoe paddle.  If you want to travel, you will use your canoe paddle, and you can go to and see a lot of amazing things.  But if that is the only tool you have for travel, then you are very limited in where you can go.  If the only tool you have is a hammer and you need a saw, the hammer will not do.  You will have to acquire a saw or ask a neighbor for help.

The same applies to questions leading to the Simple Truth.  If logic is the only tool you have to explore questions, some of which will be beyond the scope of logic, then you will have to either acquire knowledge of other understandings or ask someone who may be a bit farther along than you are in that "faith" to help you explore those new worlds which lie in abundance around each one of  us.

LIGO With Dr. Cavaglia at Catawba Science Center in Hickory, NC

Dr. Marco Cavaglia, a LIGO researcher and associate professor of physics and astronomy at the University of Mississippi, spoke tonight at the  Catawba Science Center about the Laser Interferometer Gravitational-wave Observatory.  This is a revolutionary new kind of telescope designed and built to observe, for the first time, ripples in the fabric of space-time believed to be caused by massive cosmic events. 

Between 40 and 50 people attended his presentation in the Millholland Planetarium.  Basically it was a poor slide show in an inappropriate place for a slide show, but Dr. Cavaglia still presented a very good program.  I liked the way he asked questions about the issues involved, discussed problems that were encountered and showed how important breakthroughs in research made the building and work of this extended observatory possible.


He was available afterwards for discussion, conversation and questions in a cafeteria with finger food, soda, beer and wine.  One of the things I learned is that the mirrors for the Hubble Space Telescope were made here in Hickory. By Corning.  That's good.  Things are looking up. 

Matthew Fox in Charlotte

Myers Park Baptist Church last night hosted a large audience (I don't do estimates) who gathered to watch, listen to and question Matthew Fox.  He was a Catholic priest for 34 years until Cardinal Ratzinger, now Pope Benedict XVI, ex-communicated him for Fox's  published ideas supporting equality of women in the priesthood, acceptance of homosexuals, and the BIG problem of often referring to God as a "She" (complete with capital letter, of course) and sometimes speaking of "God the Mother".

Fox has since been accepted by the Episcopal people as a priest.  But his real work is in his books which now number about 28 and his speaking engagements like this one tonight in Charlotte.

Basically, Fox made a number of points.  I got these:  1)  Jesus never heard of original sin.  2)  "Original Sin" is a concept developed by religions to suit their purposes, subjugate their people and keep women in their place. 3) Jesus was not a Christian. 4)  The bible is a book for us to read, and so is Creation (that is the world - including its plants, animals, people and the planet itself).  It also is a book for us to read.  One of those books was written by people a LONG time ago in different languages, for various purposes.  The book of Creation is updated daily. 5) A mystic must make room in his heart to express awe for the wonders of this creation    6)  Praise is the prerequisite to man's understanding. It precedes faith.  7) Praise is the "Original Blessing" which he contrasted with the religious concept of "Original Sin", and it comes from God THROUGH us. 8)  To thoroughly understand God to the point of "domesticating" God is to make an idol of God.  9)  We need new forms of worship today. 10) "Wisdom" was the name of one of the the great Goddess.  She is still alive today and the church has been unable to destroy her.


There was more.  That was what I got. Matthew Fox is not a voice crying in a wilderness, he is part of a great choir singing a new song about new heavens and new earths.  One of the greatest explorations in the history of the world is not the conquering of unknown lands, or the interrelationship with people other than your own kind,  or even the exploration of outer space.  It is the meeting of mankind and God -  the establishment of a "dialog" between these different aspects of both God and us, and a continuing awareness of the wonders which are streaming upon us constantly and which we too often either ignore or destroy.

Cabaret. Hickory Community Theatre. Hickory, NC.

Cabaret - by Hickory Community Theatre tonight in Hickory, NC. Spooky. 


Chills ran up and down my spine as I watched Berlin in 1930 and compared it with the United States of 2010. Two groups of people were represented on stage tonight, those who were ignorant, happy and carefree, and those who were committed to solving the problems of the world because they knew the causes of all those problems. Warnings were everywhere - and nobody paid attention. Those who began to ask "Hey?" were either ridiculed or told that this was nothing unusual.  


The only survivor of things to come was the supernatural-seeming character called the Emcee - marvelously played by Andrew Turnbull.


We stopped over at Old Hickory TapRoom for a beer and chips after to talk over the feelings we had.  I was grateful for the effect the arts have to record and transmit feelings.  I also have lamented the dropping of arts programs across our country in high schools and colleges.  Then I thought of that old saying - "First they came for the gypsies, then the homosexuals, then the communists . . ",, and then I thought "No, FIRST they came for the arts, THEN they came for the gypsies . . . 

John Feinstein Visiting Lenoir-Rhyne University in Hickory, NC

Lenoir-Rhyne University kicked off its current series of Visiting Writers for its twenty-second year, and punched a long one right through the goal posts.

John Feinstein (FINE-steen), came to the P. E. Monroe Auditorium on the LRU campus for a 7:00 p.m. showing on 10 September, 2010.  He talked about his most recent book, his twenty-fourth, Are You Kidding Me?  And with impressive teamwork by his interviewer, Mike Collins from WFAE, Charlotte Talks, they covered many of the other works Feinstein had written, two of which  were the two top best-selling nonfiction sports books in history.   

It quickly became obvious that Feinstein loves his work.  He appears to have been designed in some otherworldly Human Creation Factory expressly for the job he does now.  His love for his art shows in the fun and joy seen in his constant laughter and sudden displays of shock and disbelief at the memory of some of the things he has reported.  

It is also highlighted by his cascading displays of unfolding memories about almost any event that was brought up in the discussion with his host or questions from audience members.  Now, true - he disparaged his memory, saying that it has failed him time and again.  When Collins challenged that statement, Feinstein gave an example:  once when Sxhvy Koibnhe of the Phillies hit a home run, he said, on a 3-2 count, swinging on an inside breaking high curve ball thrown by Rjnsdiu  Cokejrhh of the Cjhdgwuu Sox - who had come in for relief of Hgohgd  Iopjslfgkfid in the 7th inning, he - Feinstein - had remembered that as having occurred in the 9th inning, but Xdjlfiwe Jkdldujfj, who used to work for the Lileu Nkdkj Times before he went to FNDB, reminded him that had actually happened in the 8th inning!  And that happens, Feinstein said, “all the time”.  

He has  talked with, and came to know well, a stupendous number of famous sports personalities.  It is almost as if meeting with Feinstein has become a threshold indicating arrival into the big time of sports.  Listening to him in this interview was like encountering a time machine that has accumulated and is now presenting for your amazement some of the major personalities of sports since 1977, including John McEnroe, Michael Jordan, Bobby Knight, Tiger Woods, Red Aurebach, and - well - I’m afraid that is not even a good representation - but John Feinstein has stories about all of them and many many others.

So - in short, if you get a chance to see John Feinstein in person, don’t miss the opportunity.  We had an hour and more of discoveries, surprises and a lot of laughs.  He is impressively quick witted and will amaze you with details that you may have already seen but didn't understand what they really meant - until now. And while you are waiting for him to show up in your area, remember that he has written twenty four books so you can enjoy him on your next trip or vacation, or just have him available to brighten up a rainy day or a dark lonely night.  The people he has written about have said that he came to know them better than they knew themselves.  So you will have discovery,  fun and amazement waiting for you.

Please Give? "Frankly my Dear . . ."

This was not good at all.  There was no story, no characters were found in this empty echo chamber and there was no character development.  Just a cowpath through an alien (to me, at least) neighborhood in New York City, littered with a lot of cowpies and skeletonaceous people-thingys. Aberrant photography showed people awash in money that they made by creating it out of thin air, a woman who wanted to help people who needed help until she found them.  Then she could cathartize in a conveniently nearby toilet and become a spiritual-looking blank face with vacant eyes and the hint of a sad smile again .  Her pitiful husband was also a man of money without any visible means of making it, who would mindlessly dilly if he found an available dally and who wound up with a fabulously beautiful dalliance but there was more gritty than nitty there so he quit her - no prob - SHE was at fault -  bad girl was she  - he, honorable guy that he suddenly became -  for a moment  anyway - he cut her off -  REAL easy -  Really?  

Nasty people they all were with nasty words about each other.  They should know but why should we care?  Mean people they were.  People who all lived alone even though they lived in a big city in a busy neighborhood and a crowded building with people hanging on to them every where they were and everywhere they went.  There was a nice gal there and she found a nice guy, but there was a faint clockwise swirl about their relationship and its future already showed signs of pixilation. 

Go.  Go back.  Start all over again.  Get a writer.  Get a photographer.  Get an editor.  Get a director. Then try again.  And pray you can get a story this time, and then tell the thing.  Bring some dimensions together and create something with bright sparks.  Find some characters who have more than a simple skin-covering.  Enjoy the writing and filming of your story.  Love it.  Live it. Make it come alive, make it live, let it fill us all with joy or astonishment, perhaps a sense of fulfillment  or let it teach us lessons of life or show us amazing things, instead of simply a firm resolve to go out and become a psychotherapist.

There is no excuse to make a movie this bad.  And if you do, then trash it.  I know there are people who will sit around and say “Well, this really wasn’t THAT bad, after all making movies is hard”.  That’s true, but WATCHING them shouldn’t be THIS hard.


BUT - in one respect the movie was FANTASTICALLY GOOD!  It's the first movie I have seen in a long time that had NO CIGARETTES!  Obviously could not have been made in America.

Strange Light

The light lies strangely on the land today.


Summer's heat still rises from out of the ground

and summer clouds still float through a summer sky

and we pretend we didn’t see

the mistakes that Summer made today,

and we don’t say a word, not out loud we don’t,

but the light lies strangely on the land today.

The-DOC-tor

I went again to see a doctor.  This time a skin dude.  A dermatologist.  I prepared for the visit well.  Went over my past logs, compiled a list of questions and other subjects about which I wanted to seek her opinions.

The day came.  I went in well prepared with a briefcase filled with files, folders, papers, even my iTouch and of course my glasses.  I was let into a small examination room.  The nurse who led me in took down some information then told me to take off all my clothes except for my underwear and to don a paper “robe”.  Then she left quickly - perhaps before I could rip my clothes off and shock her in my underwear.

Now, all alone in the room, I wondered what I could do with my clothes?  I still had them on and was ready to take them off, but then what?  I could put them on the examination table, or in the sink, or on the floor.  I must be the first person ever to have taken any clothes off in this room, there was no place to put them.  Apparently no one had ever thought of this.  Every doctor in the country ought to HAVE to go in one of their examination rooms and take off all their clothes!   For a moment I wondered if most people come into the waiting room naked.  But I quickly let that idea go.  So I put my briefcase against the wall, put my glasses and iTouch in there because I didn’t want them to get stepped on or sat on, then I removed my shirt, folded it up and put it on top of the briefcase.  My shoes were next to come off and they went against the wall next to the briefcase. Then I took my socks off, rolled them up and put them on top of the shoes.  Then I removed my trousers, folded them carefully in thirds so nothing would fall out of the pockets and placed them on top of my socks and shoes.  


Finally I donned the paper ‘robe”  and perched on the end of the examination table, my bare feet dangling in thin air, looking like a character who might have escaped from an “Alice in Wonderland” stage.  Instead of being an intelligent human being conferring  with an expert they have hired to help them work together and solve a problem, I have become a specimen in a bottle.


Someone knocked on the door.  

I figured it must be the janitor coming in 
to clean up and wanted to make sure no one is inside.  
So I said “Occupied”.  


The door opened anyway, but instead of the janitor, it was the nurse who had left just a few moments earlier and now she had with her a  young lady who appeared distraught.  Together they looked very serious.  For an instant I was transported back to grade school - here comes the teacher,  entering detention room with the student I had supposedly wronged earlier.  Then I figured - no - this is the doctor and they have found something in my records that is very bad news.

The new young lady delicately offered her hand limply to me as if an invitation to kiss it.  I was afraid that would offend her though, so I just touched it with mine carefully so I wouldn’t hurt her.  She hugged her clipboard to her chest and clasped both of her hands together in a helpless gesture and sadly bit her lower lip. She clearly was saying in body language, “I am SO sorry”.  The nurse looked hopelessly sad.

The young doctor spoke to me.  “How-ARE-you?”  She spoke louder than most people would when talking in a  room no more than four by eight feet, and her words crawled out one at a time for singular inspection .  Clearly she has seen my age, and that’s why she is sorry for me, that’s why she is shouting at me.  “I-am-going-to-LOOK-at-your-BACK!”, she goes behind me.  Then, “I-am-going-to-OP-PEN-the-BACK-of-your-ROBE-now!”

Well, it got worse from there.  When I asked her about my arms, which have wrinkled skin filled with bruises and colored marks, she just gently touched one of those arms and shook  her head sadly.  “What can be done?”  I asked.  

“Nothing.”  She sadly said, still slowly shaking her head.  

“What causes that?”  I ask.

After a moment’s reflection she replies “Too-much-SUN-light.”  and then she added sadly “And-old-AGE.”  

I snatched my arm back from her.  “You don’t know, huh?”  I asked.

She pondered for a moment and then said that she “. . . has-a -prescription-that-doesn’t-COST-too-much-and-it-might-help.”


I told her that the skin was easily broken and that I couldn't use band-aids because the band-aids tore the skin when I took them off.  She sadly nodded her head, almost imperceptibly.  I asked her if she knew anything else I could use and she sadly shook her head, almost imperceptibly.  Then I told her that I had had miraculous results using a medication called "UrgentQR", a combination of hydrophilic polymer and potassium salt.  She had no reaction.  I told her that it healed the wound quickly and eliminated need for bandages.  She had no reaction.  I asked her if she had ever heard of "UrgentQR".  She nodded her head almost imperceptibly.  I asked her if she had an opinion on it.  She did not respond.  I asked her again.  She did not respond again.  I asked her again.  She did not respond again.  I asked her if she knew of anything better.  She seemed preoccupied in trying to find other problems.


The other questions I had were in my files, on my cliipboard, in my briefcase, on the floor, under my shirt, along with my iTouch and my glasses.  My bare feet still dangled. 

And the underwear?  Well, the way those two ladies moved that pitiful paper “robe” about across my body, I don’t think they even saw it.  In fact, I think I could have taken that off too, and they wouldn’t even have noticed.  Next time I go there I will take EVERYthing off, then don that paper "robe"  and see if they even notice what I did.  Now that I think a little bit more about all this though, I think I might go somewhere else next time.  

Temporary - part of Ch 39 "Into the Sun"

 . . . get off the bus at Pattaya Beach find a room at the Nippa Lodge and get to the beach in time to watch an orange sunset  spread through the sky and even cover the earth with orange light. 

Later  at the lodge I eat outside, in a dining room on a deck, up above the jungle with a nice view of the beach and the Gulf of Thailand. A delicious tomato-wine-mushroom-marinade-smothered-fillet with melodious dark red wine helps the evening turn into night under an unreal sky of slowly changing colors bright with orange, purple, shades of red reflecting from towering thunderstorm which have now begun to anvil out on top, and with a lonesome blue sky way up above it all.  Cool breezes from the bay fan the torches on the deck and ruffle palm fronds by the porch, bringing with them the salty scent of the sea.

Next morning I walk the beach at dawn, barefoot and shirtless, wading and swimming in water so clear that only the sky and the bottom can be seen, each alternating with the other as the morning light dances upon it. Smells of water, salt, fish and ancient heat caress my skin.  The ocean spins varying crests and troughs that swirl together and then part, and while rising and falling they  fill the morning with endless flashes of light.  

I walk the length  of the beach and watch the dhows slowly glide by, powered by their single small sail.  Other boats ply these shores with  engines that fire like a slow-hitting hammer firing only once each second. 

  

I eat lunch at the lodge, then board a bus and return to U-Tapao RTAFB. 


NOTE:  The book "Into the Sun" is now published.  For more info go:
http://web.mac.com/fauxtaographer/Into_the_Sun/Into_The_Sun,_Air_Force_Memories,_1956-1976,_John_Womack.html

Steinbrenner: Man With a Legacy.

George Steinbrenner died in Tampa today, July 13, 2010.  He took over a Yankee baseball franchise that was quickly becoming a second rate team.   All that changed when Steinbrenner took charge.  He gave the impression of being a ruthless, mean and dominating man.

I only saw him up close once.  That was about 1984 at the ball field in Tallahassee, Florida.  The Seminoles were finishing a practice game in early spring in preparation for their then annual game against the Yankees who were headed north after their spring training season ended.  Our eyes met in the mostly empty stadium and Steinbrenner starred at me from about twenty feet away like he was casting a drop-dead spell on me.  Then he reared back and said something to Lou Piniella (Yankee coach) and Dick Howser (Seminole manager), who were talking with him.  Howser waved to me and went back to the discussion.  Steinbrenner continued to stare at me.  I was already on my way out of the stadium on my way back to work after my lunch break, so I continued and left.  It was a cool day and I had left my coat and tie on, perhaps that’s what attracted attention, but I got a taste of a extremely powerful personality.  I can imagine that if you worked for him and he gave you that look and raised his voice, you could easily vibrate.

Looking back over his period of ownership, one can easily say that he brought out the best in his organization.  You could also say that he did it by spending lavishly and tossing more money into the game than most of the teams in major league baseball had available to them.  

Steinbrenner stands today as the figurehead of that which I see  being the great destroyer of all sport.  That is the subjugation of the game to the act of winning.  True, the intent of all games is to win, but the purpose is to play the game - that is the only way it can remain a display of skill, talent and ingenuity.  


Steinbrenner was only one of many who advocate winning at all costs, regardless of the money that may take, regardless of the effects on the players and of the other teams in the league, and regardless of what it does to the game itself.  There is no such thing as “sport” anymore. It is all big business now and the only rule that counts is to win at any cost.  May you rest in peace Mr. Steinbrenner, in that graveyard of sports which was so meticulously and expensively prepared by you and many others.

John Womack

Grandfather Mountain Biosphere Reserve

First of all, we had been  there before.  Twelve years ago.  And that’s why we hadn’t been back.  I still remember the black bears sitting in a great pool of obesity, and the rest of the visit was awash in mediocrity.  Later, I talked to Hugh Morton about carrying one of my books for sale in his museum shops.  He told me how many “good” photographers come to Grandfather Mountain who don’t need books telling  them how to make pictures.  I responded by telling him that most of the people who came through his stores were not “good” photographers and know they need help.  He didn't like that and told me so.   We never talked again.  I crossed the place off my list.

Times change though, and twelve years later, we took our twelve year old granddaughter up to the great kingdom in the clouds, and it was really nice.  The bears are now fed on schedule with carefully controlled portions and they also have “enrichment” periods which are spectacular to watch and make great photo, and especially good video opportunities.   This is also true for the other animals kept in this new Biosphere Preserve.  This includes a beautiful Bald Eagle, who sits here now to spend the rest of his days grounded because someone shot his left wing off someplace in Texas.  He will never soar again, but he will still look you in the eye.  You need to come see him.  He has something to tell you that you really need to hear.

There is a professional atmosphere emanating from the place now and the people working with the animals seem to know they are lucky to be here.  I was impressed all over again and will be back.  I urge everybody else to spend a magnificent day - preferably a HOT summer day  up on top of this beautiful COOL and enjoyable mountain retreat.  We were up there on a day it reached 100° in Hickory and it was COOL up there.  We took a picnic lunch, bought some souvenirs and made a lot of pictures.  We also took an out-of-town visitor to a place she didn't know even existed, and will remember the rest of her life.