Completing the Tongariro Alpine Crossing in on March 25 was neither what I anticipated nor hoped for. My husband, John, and I have been planning our trip to New Zealand for months and since seeing the trek described as “one of the world’s top single-day hikes” we had put it at the top of our to-do list.
New Zealand consists of two main islands and Tongariro National Park sits in the middle of the North Island. For people who are not trekking enthusiasts, the way that the park is most familiar is that it was the filming site of the fictional Mt. Doom in Peter Jackson’s adaptations of J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings. There are several volcanic peaks in the park. Mt. Ngauruhoe, an iconic and stark volcanic cone became Mt. Doom–from which the One Ring was forged and to which it had to be returned.
First, let me say that the 19.4 kilometer “Crossing” was more of a “climb” than a “hike.” If I had understood more about the nature of much of the trail in advance–I might have had second thoughts. I read through the website, did some other research, looked at the beautiful pictures. The incredible scenery was all there when I did the hike. But, not surprisingly, there are not a whole lot of pictures of the narrow hogbacks that had to be climbed or descended (probably because few people are of a mind or stomach to stop and pull out the camera under those circumstances).
Knowledge in our chosen fields of endeavor is important, certainly…knowledge of ourselves is essential….
The Burgundy Briefcase by Roberta Burton (image courtesy Goodreads)
Roberta Burton’s The Burgundy Briefcase is a difficult novel to discuss because it doesn’t seem quite sure what sort of novel it wants to be. It’s part star-crossed love story, part therapeutic confessional, part self-examination. Its settings shift from place to place as its main character, a doctoral student named Lee Lindsey, moves around Tallahassee, Florida where she is completing her doctorate in marriage and family counseling at Florida State University. It moves, sometimes rather blithely, through time from present to past and back again. It has a shifting cast of characters who appear, disappear, and reappear in those weird ways that people sometimes do in life.
Perhaps The Burgundy Briefcase is best described as a picaresque novel about education. The work is filled with various types of educations, and Lee Lindsey, willingly and unwillingly, gets educated in all all of these education types. Continue reading →
Women working for peace are always especially near and dear to my heart! Here are some winners of the Nobel Peace Prize. Since there are seventeen of them, I will present about half today and half tomorrow.
Oh, before I get to that though, I have to mention that Cindy Sheehan really is my peace activist hero. I was at Camp Casey with her where we camped out under the hot Texas sun just outside of George Bush’s ranch. Just as Camp Casey was winding down because Bush was leaving Texas and returning to D.C., Hurricane Katrina was bearing down on my beloved home city. Cindy and I did a press conference together in which I questioned whether the slow response to the disaster had anything to do with the fact that much of the Louisiana National Guard and much of its equipment were off fighting in a nation that had never attacked the United States. Continue reading →
It is Women’s History Month and my goal is to post about a different woman every day for the rest of March.
Dominique Christina is a poet, artist, activist, educator, author and self-described “colored girl with stars for eyes.” She is also the only person to hold two national titles for slam poetry at one time and is the only poet in history to win the Women of the World Poetry Championship twice. A former 1996 Olympic Volleyball player, Dominique has over 10 years of experience as a licensed teacher, holding double Masters degrees in Education and English Literature. She conducts performances/workshops all over the country for colleges, universities, nonprofit organizations, and conferences like the LOHAS forum in Boulder, Colorado. She does branding and marketing language for companies like Lotus Wei and Gaia. She is the niece of one of the Little Rock Nine. She sometimes performs with Denice Frohman as Sister Outsider, the duo representing two of the top three female slam poets in the world. Continue reading →
A little over two years ago, a young couple in India went to see a movie. They were celebrating the young woman’s completion of her exams to get into medical school. On the bus they took to get home at 8:30 P.M., the male passengers raped the young woman, raped her so badly that her intestines actually came out through her vagina. Continue reading →
“But the Justice Department announced Tuesday after its six-month investigation into the Brown shooting that police in Ferguson have consistently violated citizens’ civil rights. Specifically, while blacks make up 67 percent of the city’s population, they made up 93 percent of arrests from 2012 to 2014. Black drivers were also more than twice as likely to be stopped for a traffic search than whites.”
So, as a member of a police department that consistently violates citizens’ civil rights, Wilson rolls into a predominantly black neighborhood and words are exchanged because Michael Brown and Dorian Johnson were walking in the middle of a residential street. What could possibly go wrong? Maybe if Brown and Johnson had been walking on the sidewalk they would merely have looked furtive and suspicious. Continue reading →
In the online world, bad behavior can be the best behavior. How is this possible?
In “real life,” when someone approaches and asks you out, you’re obliged by social custom to reply. You may not be interested, but you can’t just pretend that the person isn’t standing there talking to you. That would be unspeakably rude. So we have developed all manner of ways of saying no thanks, in what is hopefully the kindest way possible. None of us likes to be rejected, and if we have any empathy about us at all we’re uncomfortable inflicting pain and/or embarrassment on someone – especially since that person’s only crime is thinking we’re kinda neat.
patriarchal principle: Men are entitled to take up space
“Manspreading” refers to men sitting in public spaces with their legs spread wide apart. Anyone – and especially a woman – who has sat in a movie theater, airplane, or any sort of public transportation is all too familiar with the phenomenon. All too many men seem willing to rudely spread out beyond their little designated spaces in places like those I’ve mentioned. I’d really like to have a dollar for every time I’ve been squeezed out of my space in a movie theater by a man manspreading next to me – I could buy most of the books on my wish list at Amazon. Some speculate that this behavior is an act of dominance or is about male privilege. Personally, I have always thought the message is, “Hey,everybody look at me – my balls are so big that I can not even close my legs!” The problem is widespread – if you will – enough that now, the New York City subway authority is mounting a campaign against the practice, using the slogan “Dude, stop the spread please. It’s a space issue.” Continue reading →
For New Year’s, confessions of a hypocrite journalist…
I am a pretty liberal guy, but not exactly a vigorous social activist. I maintain for myself, a struggling photojournalist, the comfortable hypocrisy that periodically photographing and reporting on local (and, even more infrequently, Japanese) social issues is my contribution to stimulating compassion and action in others. This hypocrisy gets particularly assertive during the end-of-year Christmas and New Year’s holidays.
So I have a couple of stories here to briefly tell, which I offer as reminders to my fellow Americans that many folks in our country are hurting, and downtrodden, and further away from what’s left of The American Dream than you or me…
A couple of weeks ago I bought a pair of hunting boots so I could walk in the woods again. The woods stand right across the street, a narrow strip bordering the south side of a farm field of some 60 acres. The north and west sides of the field end at the bottoms of tree-filled hills I used to scramble up and down with my dog, King, but King died many years ago, and I couldn’t bring myself to visit the woods without him.
I’ve been going back, though, since buying the boots, and I was happy to see the terrain is all but unrecognizable. Countless beech trees have been felled by winds, crashing across paths King and I used to walk on. There are new ways up the hillside now, though: the worn paths of deer. The deer population is much larger than before. Their paths crisscross the hillsides.
The holiday season is most often described as “joyful,” “merry,” “bright” – candles instead of cursing the the darkness – but both the Appalachian storytellers of “A Firefox Christmas” and Charles Dickens in “The Chimes” remind us that the holidays can be a time of loneliness and disillusionment…
A Foxfire Christmas, ed. Eliot Wigginton (image courtesy Goodreads)
I complete the 2014 reading list as I did the 2013 reading list – with some holiday appropriate stories. For this year’s list I returned to the acknowledged godfather of Christmas tales, a Mr. C. Dickens, for his haunting look at what we really should mean by “starting the New Year right,” The Chimes. I followed that with the Christmas entry in the Foxfire series of folk lore compendiums, A Foxfire Christmas.
What is striking about both these works is the powerful current of pathos that runs through them. One expects this of Dickens, of course. No one does pathos like the creator of Little Nell, Oliver Twist, and Jo the crossing sweeper. The Firefox books, on the other hand, are compilations of stories and folk wisdom from long time residents of Appalachia. Their experiences, related as nearly as possible in their own words, range widely and move from the humorous to the heartbreaking – sometimes abruptly. The overall aim isn’t (as it often is with Dickens, that master manipulator of our emotions) to foster sympathy and motivate social action; Foxfire books primarily seek to preserve cultural history – the pathos one sometimes encounters there is firmly embedded in the history being shared. Continue reading →
The sewing machine doesn’t hum. It barrels down the seam, rattling the table and everything on it. It’s Christmas Eve and I’m working on the Christmas jammies. Fifth Christmas without her and the sewing of my children’s jammies is a bit of therapy. She always finished her sewing at the last minute, too. I was sure I’d have to go to prom with pins in the hem of my dress. I didn’t, though. Likewise, these pants will be done by the time the kids go to bed. Continue reading →
For the first time in a while I decided to just play around with graphics. Initially I was looking to see what filters I could use to prep a photographic image for screen printing. I tinkered with a tractor and hands playing a piano with varying degrees of success, then wondered about portraiture. One thing led to another and this is what happened.
Having scratched my head and stared at my navel publicly elsewhere, I thought I should share what I found whilst scratching here as well. I would like to take a moment to share some observations about what is apparently a sensitive topic. The topic is so sensitive, however, that I feel I must preamble the [censored] [censored] out [censored] lest superior persons and others of highly refined sensibilities take this in the wrong spirit.
Point the first: I would like to express my appreciation for the people who conceived of, put into operation, and continue to maintain both with effort and money, this [well, that] website. Continue reading →
I found myself walking along a thoroughfare in another Rust Belt city Friday while my truck was in the shop.
There’s nothing like walking with no particular place to go to get a feel for someplace. On the uncommon occasions when I visit large cities—Philadelphia, Charlotte, Portland—I check into my hotel, put my running shoes on, and walk for hours. At times I’ve found myself out past where the last buses run; other times, I’ve found myself looked at suspiciously by creatures clad in the trappings of haute couture.
Friday, I was not in a large city but rather in a small city whose better days are a memory and for whom better days are a dream. Continue reading →
Fanciful middle-aged musings in a garden of the dead
It was just another Tuesday…
Wyatt Earp is dead and gone but I have sometimes talked to him in the years since I became a Heart Disease Missionary. When I come to the cold shores of Colma, I come to stave off cancer by snacking on his western bones.
…and I was out running an errand. And running that errand put me in a location in South San Francisco from where it would be easy to run other errands. You know how that goes. One twenty-minute task turned into five, and without prior planning I ended up in a Carl’s Jr. eating a chorizo breakfast burrito, wondering what it would do to my cholesterol levels and feeling bad about fast-food slumming.
I figured after I’d eaten I wasn’t yet ready to deal with the shuffling toddler-mom shopping carts or oblivious merchandise stock-monkeys at Target or Best Buy. Then I realized Josephine and Wyatt Earp were within my automobile errand sphere, so I decided to go see them.
I’ve been posting the poems from my latest book to Ello lately – one per day – and this morning’s entry was “Old Ethan’s Quantum Diary.” It’s an especially difficult and painful piece of a larger work that is, in many ways, the most tortured effort of my 35-year creative writing journey.
As I explained in the preface to the post, there was a time a few years ago when I thought I had very little time left. Since I do not believe in any kind of afterlife, I found myself thinking a lot about what science has to say on the subject. It tormented me that it would all just be over. Fade to black. The void, and not even an awareness of the void. As hard, as painful, as frustrating and unfulfilling as the low spots have been, I love life and the thought of losing it terrified me. Continue reading →
While some authors have chosen to follow a literary path called transrealism, Knausgaard has chosen a path one might call hyperrealism. The question always rises rises again, however: is there nothing new under the sun…?
Karl Ove Knausgaard (image courtesy Wikimedia)
A little more than a week ago I examined yet another attempt to claim that a new literary movement has arisen. That new movement, called transrealism, has its promoters, but it also has its doubters (including this guy). In this essay we take a look at what may/may not be a new 21st century literary movement – one I’m denominating hyperrealism. The best way to look at such a movement is, of course, by examining the work of the author who is probably its leading proponent, Norwegian literary star Karl Ove Knausgaard.
Knausgaard’s massive six volume documentation of his own life in excruciating detail is called, in English My Struggle. In Norwegian that title reads Min Kamp – and yep, you’re right that his title echoes a book that gives most sensible people the creeps. Knausgaard’s book has pretty much nothing to do with Der Fuhrer’s opus magnum but a lot to do with some other, weightier, literary figures. Whether he chose the title simply to spark some controversy – well, why would any author want to do that in a culture that is so distracted it can’t pay attention to any damned thing for longer than the time it takes to scroll down a Facebook feed? Hmm? Continue reading →
Wait, gentlemen, please don’t run away! Yes, I am about to start throwing around words like uterus, ovaries, vagina, clitoris, nipples, orgasm, and hysterectomy. Here under the shameful for-profit health care system we have, an astonishing one-third of American women are hysterectomized, leading to physical side-effects, emotional side-effects, loss of sex drive and sexual response, and total loss of overall vitality. Surely you have a wife, girlfriend, daughter, sister, mother, or aunt vulnerable to this outrage, so please do read on. I have read of so many men being devastated by the changes in women they love following hysterectomy – it is your issue too.