BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
Is Walmart good for the economy of the US?
Isn't it obvious? We've lost more than a million manufacturing jobs even before the recent debacle starting in 2000. Before that the manufacturing industries in the US, like apparel, tools, audio and visual equipment, pens, eye wear, foot wear, and so forth were already decimated.
Besides the loss of jobs there is also the loss of manufacturing capacity to consider. In addition, hundreds of thousands small shop and supermarket retail jobs have been lost.
Small towns lost their main streets and experienced an extreme loss of tax revenue when Walmarts would be located just out town boundaries.
Add in the fact that many of Walmart sites would tax abated for twenty and even forty years by the counties and states in which they were located. -- This while the stores that would be eventually driven out of business were paying their full real estate taxes on main street.
-
In many cases Walmart got the counties to construct highway exits leading to their sites.
-
Sewers were built. Talk about corporate welfare!
Tuesday, October 06, 2009
Sunday, October 04, 2009
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
Portrait
He finished up the portrait~~~~ yesterday at noon. Now
he studies it in detail. ~~~~ He did him in a gray
jacket, all unbuttoned, ~~~~ a deep gray. Without
any vest or tie. ~~~~ In a shirt of rose;
so a little of ~~~~ the beauty of the chest,
the beauty of the throat, ~~~~ might show through a bit.
The right side of his brow ~~~~ is almost totally
covered by his hair,~~~~ by his beautiful hair
(which is combed the way ~~~~ he fancies it this year).
The note is utterly ~~~~ the voluptuous one
that he wanted to strike ~~~~ when he did the eyes,
when he did the lips... ~~~~ That mouth of his, the lips
made for the fulfillment ~~~~~ of a choice eroticism.
C.P. Cavafy
note: Cavafy used space.
Blogspot wouldn't recognize the spaces so I inserted ~s.
The poem looks better with the spaces.
Portrait
He finished up the portrait~~~~ yesterday at noon. Now
he studies it in detail. ~~~~ He did him in a gray
jacket, all unbuttoned, ~~~~ a deep gray. Without
any vest or tie. ~~~~ In a shirt of rose;
so a little of ~~~~ the beauty of the chest,
the beauty of the throat, ~~~~ might show through a bit.
The right side of his brow ~~~~ is almost totally
covered by his hair,~~~~ by his beautiful hair
(which is combed the way ~~~~ he fancies it this year).
The note is utterly ~~~~ the voluptuous one
that he wanted to strike ~~~~ when he did the eyes,
when he did the lips... ~~~~ That mouth of his, the lips
made for the fulfillment ~~~~~ of a choice eroticism.
C.P. Cavafy
note: Cavafy used space.
Blogspot wouldn't recognize the spaces so I inserted ~s.
The poem looks better with the spaces.
Saturday, October 03, 2009
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
................
Sometimes, on waking, she would close her eyes
For a last look at the white house she knew
In sleep alone, and held no title to,
And had not entered yet, for all her sighs.
What did she tell me of that house of hers?
White gatepost; terrace; fanlight of the door;
A widow's walk above the bouldered shore;
Salt winds that ruffle the surrounding firs.
Is she now there, wherever there may be?
Only a foolish man would hope to find
That haven fashioned by her dreaming mind.
Night after night, my love, I put to sea.
Richard Wilbur
................
Sometimes, on waking, she would close her eyes
For a last look at the white house she knew
In sleep alone, and held no title to,
And had not entered yet, for all her sighs.
What did she tell me of that house of hers?
White gatepost; terrace; fanlight of the door;
A widow's walk above the bouldered shore;
Salt winds that ruffle the surrounding firs.
Is she now there, wherever there may be?
Only a foolish man would hope to find
That haven fashioned by her dreaming mind.
Night after night, my love, I put to sea.
Richard Wilbur
Monday, September 28, 2009
Friday, September 25, 2009
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Saturday, September 19, 2009
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
On Lovers:
I have thought about this problem for many years. I see that many people are committed to the "ideal" of lifetime commitment, but as a man who has known a few women, I feel differently about marriage, I just couldn't bring myself to join those who want to live with one person for forty or fifty years without involving themselves with any other member of the opposite sex.
-
People are too interesting. Confining one's self to one person within a box barely justifies living the one life we are given to live.
-
This is not to say that marriage cannot be fulfilling. I would want to be married to a lifelong partner (as I am, although in a continuation of what I now call my second marriage) but, although I love her more deeply than ever, I would not want to have known only her.
Friendships and relationships deeper than friendship are necessary.
On Lovers:
I have thought about this problem for many years. I see that many people are committed to the "ideal" of lifetime commitment, but as a man who has known a few women, I feel differently about marriage, I just couldn't bring myself to join those who want to live with one person for forty or fifty years without involving themselves with any other member of the opposite sex.
-
People are too interesting. Confining one's self to one person within a box barely justifies living the one life we are given to live.
-
This is not to say that marriage cannot be fulfilling. I would want to be married to a lifelong partner (as I am, although in a continuation of what I now call my second marriage) but, although I love her more deeply than ever, I would not want to have known only her.
Friendships and relationships deeper than friendship are necessary.
Monday, September 14, 2009
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
It is so obvious to anyone who knows the numbers that single payer would be cheaper and a more efficient health care delivery system. Corporate America has us chained to its misled minions. Because they can shout louder than us they control. It's like dealing with a madman. You have to patronize him to keep him quiet.
We saw a Glenn Beck inspired demonstration on the corner of Broward Blvd and Andrews Avenue yesterday. the people looked like homeless people. They waved hand made signs (suppossedly proving that it was not an organized demonstration.) A scruffier bunch could not have been found on the Bowery of the 1940's.
Maria wanted to get out of the car and ask them what Medical Plan they had. My guess was Medicare and Medicaid.
Over and over again I think of Ortega y Gasset: "the masses are asses."
It is so obvious to anyone who knows the numbers that single payer would be cheaper and a more efficient health care delivery system. Corporate America has us chained to its misled minions. Because they can shout louder than us they control. It's like dealing with a madman. You have to patronize him to keep him quiet.
We saw a Glenn Beck inspired demonstration on the corner of Broward Blvd and Andrews Avenue yesterday. the people looked like homeless people. They waved hand made signs (suppossedly proving that it was not an organized demonstration.) A scruffier bunch could not have been found on the Bowery of the 1940's.
Maria wanted to get out of the car and ask them what Medical Plan they had. My guess was Medicare and Medicaid.
Over and over again I think of Ortega y Gasset: "the masses are asses."
Friday, September 11, 2009
Tuesday, September 08, 2009
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
LibraryThing recommendations
1. A Writer at War: A Soviet Journalist with the Red Army, 1941-1945 by Wassilij Grossman
2. The Case of Comrade Tulayev by Victor Serge
3. The Radetzky March by Joseph Roth
4. Stalingrad by Antony Beevor
5. Kaputt by Curzio Malaparte
6. Oblomov by Ivan A. Goncharov
7. The Whisperers: Private Life in Stalin's Russia by Orlando Figes
8. The Kindly Ones by Jonathan Littell
9. To the Finland Station (New York Review Books Classics) by Edmund Wilson
10. The Siege of Krishnapur by J.G. Farrell
see more recommendations for this work
Member recommendations
1. christiguc recommends The Radetzky March by Joseph Roth
2. chrisharpe recommends Stalin: The Court of the Red Tsar by Simon Sebag Montefiore
3. chrisharpe recommends Darkness at Noon by Arthur Koestler
4. chrisharpe recommends One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich by Alexander Solzhenitsyn
5. chrisharpe recommends War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy
LibraryThing recommendations
1. A Writer at War: A Soviet Journalist with the Red Army, 1941-1945 by Wassilij Grossman
2. The Case of Comrade Tulayev by Victor Serge
3. The Radetzky March by Joseph Roth
4. Stalingrad by Antony Beevor
5. Kaputt by Curzio Malaparte
6. Oblomov by Ivan A. Goncharov
7. The Whisperers: Private Life in Stalin's Russia by Orlando Figes
8. The Kindly Ones by Jonathan Littell
9. To the Finland Station (New York Review Books Classics) by Edmund Wilson
10. The Siege of Krishnapur by J.G. Farrell
see more recommendations for this work
Member recommendations
1. christiguc recommends The Radetzky March by Joseph Roth
2. chrisharpe recommends Stalin: The Court of the Red Tsar by Simon Sebag Montefiore
3. chrisharpe recommends Darkness at Noon by Arthur Koestler
4. chrisharpe recommends One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich by Alexander Solzhenitsyn
5. chrisharpe recommends War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy
Saturday, September 05, 2009
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
Do Americans Know what Socialism is?
A Christain has complained that Obama is a socialist:
I see, so "man has a strong tendency to want to prosper at the expense of others," and this is his "God given right." So that's what God wants.
-
"When property is taken from its owner without his consent, and transferred to another solely for the benefit the recipient, then property rights have been violated and an act of plunder has been committed." In this case I suppose you are referring to the money that taxes take from citizens. --Strange, I thought we had elections and that the people choose the representatives that establish these taxes.
-
When you refer to "recipients" above are you referring to old ladies in nursing homes who turn their social security checks over to the Fortune 500 corporations that are taking care of them? Are you referring to school lunch programs that are responsible for keeping millions of children from hunger? Or are you referring to the reverse taxes (also known as tax breaks) given to major corporations like Exxon?
-
As to: "The total inertness of mankind. Man needs the state to order his social life and is incapable of organizing his own life without the overreaching hand of government elitists."
This is not even near the case in Sweden or Norway, and there are no "overreaching hands of government elitists." Instead there are well housed, well educated, citizens with adequate health insurance.
But, speaking of "overreaching hands" what do you call the bureaucrat-administrators of private health plans in the US who decide which prescriptions to fill and which operations to perform on the 80% of the population who actually have any insurance? Last year United Health Care rejected (denied) 30% of medical claims submitted to them.
And then, "The infallibility of the state and its legislators. Under socialism, the state is by definition always right and can never be wrong. This means that when something goes wrong, a scapegoat must be created."
-
The kind of socialism referred to here is the kind that Hitler created under National Socialism. No one in the US is talking about any kind of socialism, no less Nazism.
Or, "A popular fallacy of our times is that it is not considered sufficient that the law should be just -- it must be philanthropic. Nor is it sufficient that the law should guarantee to every citizen the free and inoffensive use of his faculties for physical, intellectual and moral self-improvement. Instead it is demanded that the law should directly extend welfare, education and morality throughout the nation."
-
Let's take welfare to start. It's a pretty good idea not to allow people to starve or sleep in the streets. Is that welfare? Before, you brought God into the argument--does God prefer that people sleep in the streets?
-
Education: Do you actually believe that education of the entire population regardless of ability to pay, destroys the state? I'm shaking my head in disbelief. --We need more free education in order to further strengthen our country. Without it we're headed for the dump. China & India are already nipping at our heels. They're not afraid of education.
"...and morality throughout the nation."
-
This country has always legislated morality and there are people who wish to legislate more morality. They don't live in the left.
-
Who has kept marijuana away from freedom loving citizens--no less hospitals and hospices? Leftists?
Who is agitating for anti-abortion laws. What about selling liquor on Sundays? The left? Why are doctors afraid to prescribe heavy does of narcotics to cancer patients in pain? A socialist government already in Washington?
-
I am running out of steam--but I can say this at last: If Jesus were here he would be a true socialist and would be caring for every child and ever oldster in the nation. He would be working toward a single-payer universal health plan. He would demand that every person have the food he needs to live a healthy strong life. He would fight for a progressive tax system (render under Caesar)that would ensure that the poor would be able to live full lives.
-
With Jesus as our guide greed and rapaciousness would wither and disappear--and would not be considered virtues.
Do Americans Know what Socialism is?
A Christain has complained that Obama is a socialist:
I see, so "man has a strong tendency to want to prosper at the expense of others," and this is his "God given right." So that's what God wants.
-
"When property is taken from its owner without his consent, and transferred to another solely for the benefit the recipient, then property rights have been violated and an act of plunder has been committed." In this case I suppose you are referring to the money that taxes take from citizens. --Strange, I thought we had elections and that the people choose the representatives that establish these taxes.
-
When you refer to "recipients" above are you referring to old ladies in nursing homes who turn their social security checks over to the Fortune 500 corporations that are taking care of them? Are you referring to school lunch programs that are responsible for keeping millions of children from hunger? Or are you referring to the reverse taxes (also known as tax breaks) given to major corporations like Exxon?
-
As to: "The total inertness of mankind. Man needs the state to order his social life and is incapable of organizing his own life without the overreaching hand of government elitists."
This is not even near the case in Sweden or Norway, and there are no "overreaching hands of government elitists." Instead there are well housed, well educated, citizens with adequate health insurance.
But, speaking of "overreaching hands" what do you call the bureaucrat-administrators of private health plans in the US who decide which prescriptions to fill and which operations to perform on the 80% of the population who actually have any insurance? Last year United Health Care rejected (denied) 30% of medical claims submitted to them.
And then, "The infallibility of the state and its legislators. Under socialism, the state is by definition always right and can never be wrong. This means that when something goes wrong, a scapegoat must be created."
-
The kind of socialism referred to here is the kind that Hitler created under National Socialism. No one in the US is talking about any kind of socialism, no less Nazism.
Or, "A popular fallacy of our times is that it is not considered sufficient that the law should be just -- it must be philanthropic. Nor is it sufficient that the law should guarantee to every citizen the free and inoffensive use of his faculties for physical, intellectual and moral self-improvement. Instead it is demanded that the law should directly extend welfare, education and morality throughout the nation."
-
Let's take welfare to start. It's a pretty good idea not to allow people to starve or sleep in the streets. Is that welfare? Before, you brought God into the argument--does God prefer that people sleep in the streets?
-
Education: Do you actually believe that education of the entire population regardless of ability to pay, destroys the state? I'm shaking my head in disbelief. --We need more free education in order to further strengthen our country. Without it we're headed for the dump. China & India are already nipping at our heels. They're not afraid of education.
"...and morality throughout the nation."
-
This country has always legislated morality and there are people who wish to legislate more morality. They don't live in the left.
-
Who has kept marijuana away from freedom loving citizens--no less hospitals and hospices? Leftists?
Who is agitating for anti-abortion laws. What about selling liquor on Sundays? The left? Why are doctors afraid to prescribe heavy does of narcotics to cancer patients in pain? A socialist government already in Washington?
-
I am running out of steam--but I can say this at last: If Jesus were here he would be a true socialist and would be caring for every child and ever oldster in the nation. He would be working toward a single-payer universal health plan. He would demand that every person have the food he needs to live a healthy strong life. He would fight for a progressive tax system (render under Caesar)that would ensure that the poor would be able to live full lives.
-
With Jesus as our guide greed and rapaciousness would wither and disappear--and would not be considered virtues.
Thursday, September 03, 2009
Monday, August 17, 2009
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
wisdom from Arnold Rothsteinand my father:
During the late fifties and sixties, one of the best tout sheets at Belmont Park in NY was Dr. Marlin's Picks. Dr. Marlin was a pretty good handicapper and earned the appellation "Dr." when he picked the winners of seventeen straight races in 1963. To my knowledge his longest streak after that time was six straight winners, a feat that is not unheard of, though rare, among racing cognoscenti. However, like all gamblers who live long enough, he died broke, as eventually, as Arnold Rothstein (and my father) said, "the odds will always get you."
wisdom from Arnold Rothsteinand my father:
During the late fifties and sixties, one of the best tout sheets at Belmont Park in NY was Dr. Marlin's Picks. Dr. Marlin was a pretty good handicapper and earned the appellation "Dr." when he picked the winners of seventeen straight races in 1963. To my knowledge his longest streak after that time was six straight winners, a feat that is not unheard of, though rare, among racing cognoscenti. However, like all gamblers who live long enough, he died broke, as eventually, as Arnold Rothstein (and my father) said, "the odds will always get you."
Sunday, August 16, 2009
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
MAGNOLIA --Paul Thomas Anderson*, writer, director.
I saw this 3 hour film tonight at home. One of the best. Enters my top fifty if I ever make a list. It's complex and original. And never fails to be interesting. Several intertwined stories dealing with forgiveness, happiness, attempting to erase the indelible past, confession, coincidence, deus ex machina, the weakness of the strong, the strength of the weak, choices made in the past, choices to be made in the future, and choices of the present. Creating false personas, and promising to be true.
And, two men dying asking for forgiveness from those they hurt, and from those who don't now that they have been hurt.
Is this enough to keep your interest?
*Note: Two actors have 3 part names like the writer, Paul Thomas Anderson: Phillip Seymour Hoffman and Phillip Baker Hall, if that doesn't confuse you then the movie won't either.
Comment from a friend:
Magnolia. You asked me to tell you what I understood from the rain of frogs. All of the characters in Magnolia, like all of us, are enslaved by our thoughts. We make ourselves, then we get stuck in our own viewpoint. We behave in accordance with what we think. Each of us must liberate ourselves from the incarceration of our ideas. That is the most difficult task we will ever face. It takes great courage to insist on an honest appraisal of what we are and demand of ourselves that we become what we know we must be. The rain of frogs alerts us to the urgency of this task. There is no more time. We must face up to ourselves now, or we shall never escape. The frogs are a warning that everything depends on our acting to liberate ourselves now, or it will be to late, and will languish in the prison of our childish notions until we die. Michael
MAGNOLIA --Paul Thomas Anderson*, writer, director.
I saw this 3 hour film tonight at home. One of the best. Enters my top fifty if I ever make a list. It's complex and original. And never fails to be interesting. Several intertwined stories dealing with forgiveness, happiness, attempting to erase the indelible past, confession, coincidence, deus ex machina, the weakness of the strong, the strength of the weak, choices made in the past, choices to be made in the future, and choices of the present. Creating false personas, and promising to be true.
And, two men dying asking for forgiveness from those they hurt, and from those who don't now that they have been hurt.
Is this enough to keep your interest?
*Note: Two actors have 3 part names like the writer, Paul Thomas Anderson: Phillip Seymour Hoffman and Phillip Baker Hall, if that doesn't confuse you then the movie won't either.
Comment from a friend:
Magnolia. You asked me to tell you what I understood from the rain of frogs. All of the characters in Magnolia, like all of us, are enslaved by our thoughts. We make ourselves, then we get stuck in our own viewpoint. We behave in accordance with what we think. Each of us must liberate ourselves from the incarceration of our ideas. That is the most difficult task we will ever face. It takes great courage to insist on an honest appraisal of what we are and demand of ourselves that we become what we know we must be. The rain of frogs alerts us to the urgency of this task. There is no more time. We must face up to ourselves now, or we shall never escape. The frogs are a warning that everything depends on our acting to liberate ourselves now, or it will be to late, and will languish in the prison of our childish notions until we die. Michael
Thursday, August 13, 2009
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
Here's something from the Paris Review, Summer 2009. #107:
Gay Talese on infidelity.
"Here's what people don't get. Sex is not that important. It isn't the most important thing in any relationship. Marriage is never about sex, and yet in American fiction so many stories and novels present a sexual dalliance ans an unpardonable sin. (In real life) I never thought that should be true. Marriage is the main event. These other relationships bring me into worlds I would otherwise not know. These relationships have helped our marriage. ..I think of all these people who get divorced over minor matters...I don't see how people can live in conventional marriages. "
Gay Talese has a fifty year marriage with a very accomplished,independent and fiscally successful wife.
Here's something from the Paris Review, Summer 2009. #107:
Gay Talese on infidelity.
"Here's what people don't get. Sex is not that important. It isn't the most important thing in any relationship. Marriage is never about sex, and yet in American fiction so many stories and novels present a sexual dalliance ans an unpardonable sin. (In real life) I never thought that should be true. Marriage is the main event. These other relationships bring me into worlds I would otherwise not know. These relationships have helped our marriage. ..I think of all these people who get divorced over minor matters...I don't see how people can live in conventional marriages. "
Gay Talese has a fifty year marriage with a very accomplished,independent and fiscally successful wife.
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
E.L. Doctorow, Homer & Langley to be published in September
"And so do people pass out of one's life and all you can remember of them is their humanity, a poor fitful thing of no dominion, like your own."
This novel is unlike anything Doctorow has written before, it uses to the Collyer brothers to draw us through the twentieth century in America as seen by a blind man and his eccentric pack rat brother whose bodies were found in a Fifth Avenue mansion after their deaths.
"Homer Lusk Collyer (November 6, 1881 – March 21, 1947) and Langley Collyer (October 3, 1885 – March 1947) were two American brothers who became famous because of their snobbish nature, filth in their homes, and compulsive hoarding.
The brothers are often cited as an example of compulsive hoarding associated with obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD), as well as disposophobia or 'Collyer brothers syndrome', a fear of throwing anything away. For decades, neighborhood rumors swirled around the rarely-seen, unemployed men and their home at 2078 Fifth Avenue (at the corner of 128th Street), in Manhattan, where they obsessively collected newspapers, books, furniture, musical instruments, and many other items, with booby traps set up in corridors and doorways to protect against intruders.
Both were eventually found dead in the Harlem brownstone where they had lived as hermits, surrounded by over 100 tons of rubbish that they had amassed over several decades." Wikipedia
E.L. Doctorow, Homer & Langley to be published in September
"And so do people pass out of one's life and all you can remember of them is their humanity, a poor fitful thing of no dominion, like your own."
This novel is unlike anything Doctorow has written before, it uses to the Collyer brothers to draw us through the twentieth century in America as seen by a blind man and his eccentric pack rat brother whose bodies were found in a Fifth Avenue mansion after their deaths.
"Homer Lusk Collyer (November 6, 1881 – March 21, 1947) and Langley Collyer (October 3, 1885 – March 1947) were two American brothers who became famous because of their snobbish nature, filth in their homes, and compulsive hoarding.
The brothers are often cited as an example of compulsive hoarding associated with obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD), as well as disposophobia or 'Collyer brothers syndrome', a fear of throwing anything away. For decades, neighborhood rumors swirled around the rarely-seen, unemployed men and their home at 2078 Fifth Avenue (at the corner of 128th Street), in Manhattan, where they obsessively collected newspapers, books, furniture, musical instruments, and many other items, with booby traps set up in corridors and doorways to protect against intruders.
Both were eventually found dead in the Harlem brownstone where they had lived as hermits, surrounded by over 100 tons of rubbish that they had amassed over several decades." Wikipedia
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Saturday, August 08, 2009
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
William Vollmann
But meaning can be found in the most desolate zones, for survivors if not for victims, and in Rising Up and Rising Down Vollmann relates the following story from the San Francisco morgue as what he calls a "Solomonic parable":
Three different mothers were led into the viewing room one by one to identify a dead girl, and each mother claimed the girl as hers, with a desperate relief, as I would suppose.... Those three mothers must all have given up hoping that their daughters would ever speak to them or smile at them again. They wanted to stop dreading and start grieving. They didn't want to go into viewing rooms any more. And maybe the glass window was dirty, and maybe their eyes were old or full of tears. It was a natural mistake. But one mother was lucky. The dead girl was really her daughter.
William Vollmann
But meaning can be found in the most desolate zones, for survivors if not for victims, and in Rising Up and Rising Down Vollmann relates the following story from the San Francisco morgue as what he calls a "Solomonic parable":
Three different mothers were led into the viewing room one by one to identify a dead girl, and each mother claimed the girl as hers, with a desperate relief, as I would suppose.... Those three mothers must all have given up hoping that their daughters would ever speak to them or smile at them again. They wanted to stop dreading and start grieving. They didn't want to go into viewing rooms any more. And maybe the glass window was dirty, and maybe their eyes were old or full of tears. It was a natural mistake. But one mother was lucky. The dead girl was really her daughter.
Thursday, August 06, 2009
Tuesday, August 04, 2009
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
"A Man Escaped" Director: Robert Bresson--1956
The most tantalizing, enthralling movie I have ever seen. The true story of a French prisoner of the Nazis, who meticulously plans an escape. The detailed planning takes 1 hour and 30 minutes of the 1 hour and 40 minutes of the entire film. Breathless, riveting, alarming, complete non-stop tension.
Rating:
Run Time: 102 min
MPAA Rating:
Released: 1956
Directors: Robert Bresson
Genre/Type: Drama
Prison Film
Docudrama
Escape Film
Producers: Alain Poiré
Jean Thuillier
Plot Synopsis by Tom Wiener
In a genre crowded with quality films, director Robert Bresson's POW drama has become legendary, in part because it strips down the experience of a man desperate to escape to the essentials. That's in keeping with the approach Bresson took with all of his films. The filmmaker, who spent a year in a German prison camp during World War II, based this story on the experiences of Andre Devigny, a French Resistance fighter sent in 1943 to the infamous prison in Lyons, where 7,000 of the 10,000 prisoners housed there died either by natural means or by execution. Lt. Fontaine (Francois Leterrier) is certain that execution awaits him, and he almost immediately begins planning his escape, using homemade tools and an ingenuity for detecting the few weaknesses in the prison's structure and routine. For a time, he goes it alone, then takes on a partner, but only reluctantly. Fontaine does get some help from a couple of prisoners allowed to stroll in the exercise yard, but for the most part he is a figure in isolation. For Bresson, the process of escape is all, and in simplifying his narrative he ratchets up the tension, creating a film story of survival that many feel is without peer.
"A Man Escaped" Director: Robert Bresson--1956
The most tantalizing, enthralling movie I have ever seen. The true story of a French prisoner of the Nazis, who meticulously plans an escape. The detailed planning takes 1 hour and 30 minutes of the 1 hour and 40 minutes of the entire film. Breathless, riveting, alarming, complete non-stop tension.
Rating:
Run Time: 102 min
MPAA Rating:
Released: 1956
Directors: Robert Bresson
Genre/Type: Drama
Prison Film
Docudrama
Escape Film
Producers: Alain Poiré
Jean Thuillier
Plot Synopsis by Tom Wiener
In a genre crowded with quality films, director Robert Bresson's POW drama has become legendary, in part because it strips down the experience of a man desperate to escape to the essentials. That's in keeping with the approach Bresson took with all of his films. The filmmaker, who spent a year in a German prison camp during World War II, based this story on the experiences of Andre Devigny, a French Resistance fighter sent in 1943 to the infamous prison in Lyons, where 7,000 of the 10,000 prisoners housed there died either by natural means or by execution. Lt. Fontaine (Francois Leterrier) is certain that execution awaits him, and he almost immediately begins planning his escape, using homemade tools and an ingenuity for detecting the few weaknesses in the prison's structure and routine. For a time, he goes it alone, then takes on a partner, but only reluctantly. Fontaine does get some help from a couple of prisoners allowed to stroll in the exercise yard, but for the most part he is a figure in isolation. For Bresson, the process of escape is all, and in simplifying his narrative he ratchets up the tension, creating a film story of survival that many feel is without peer.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
Yes, I’m at my desk, alone,
I can’t look in my mirror , instead I look
In books and at my computer,
I was warned. But I am not surprised,
Even though I knew, I didn’t act and my
Strength disappeared, slowly, I didn’t notice,
What dreams I had.
I thought there was always time.
July 2009
Yes, I’m at my desk, alone,
I can’t look in my mirror , instead I look
In books and at my computer,
I was warned. But I am not surprised,
Even though I knew, I didn’t act and my
Strength disappeared, slowly, I didn’t notice,
What dreams I had.
I thought there was always time.
July 2009
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Sunday, July 26, 2009
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
Musings, notes,
I don't know whether to write truth or fiction, but then I never know what my life is. mek
"It was, It will never be again. Remember." Paul Auster
Why is it that there are so many great trailers, but so few good movies? mek
"It is not what is criminal that is hardest to acknowledge; but rather what is ridiculous or shameful." Jean Jacques Rousseau
Understand, do not deny, that from the beginning we live in a state of perpetual decay. mek
"Art cannot exist without surprize or without change." Jean Renoir
Cutting work back is fine. But don't stop working until someone measures you for the six sided box. mek
Two skeletons on a tin roof during a windstorm. (of a piece of modern music by an unknown critic.)
Musings, notes,
I don't know whether to write truth or fiction, but then I never know what my life is. mek
"It was, It will never be again. Remember." Paul Auster
Why is it that there are so many great trailers, but so few good movies? mek
"It is not what is criminal that is hardest to acknowledge; but rather what is ridiculous or shameful." Jean Jacques Rousseau
Understand, do not deny, that from the beginning we live in a state of perpetual decay. mek
"Art cannot exist without surprize or without change." Jean Renoir
Cutting work back is fine. But don't stop working until someone measures you for the six sided box. mek
Two skeletons on a tin roof during a windstorm. (of a piece of modern music by an unknown critic.)
Friday, July 24, 2009
Thursday, July 23, 2009
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
Synecdoche, New York, Screenplay – Charlie Kaufman.
"There are almost thirteen billion people in the world and not one is an extra. They are all leads in their own stories. And they must be given their due.
I woke up and found my life. She helped me find my after I lost it.
The end is built into the beginning.
-
Everything is more complicated than you think. We see only 10% of what is true. There are a million little strings attached to every decision we make. And you destroy your life every time you choose and maybe you won’t even know it for twenty years. And you may never trace that decision to its source. You only get the one chance to play it out.
And they say that there is no fate—but there is: it’s what we create. Even though the world goes on for eons and eons we are here for only a fraction of a second. Most of our time is spent being dead or not yet born. But while we’re alive we wait in vain wasting years for a phone call or a letter or a look from someone or something to make it all right.
But it never comes or it seems to but doesn’t really so we spend our time in vague regret or vague hope that something good will come along. Something that will make us feel connected, make us feel whole, make us feel loved.
-
What was before us, our exciting mysterious future is now behind you. Understood, disappointing. We realize we are not special; we have struggled into existence and now are stepping silently outward. This is everyone’s experience, every single one. The specifics hardly matter. Everyone is everyone.
-
As the people who adore you stop adoring you—as they die,as they move on, as you shed them, as you shed your beauty, your youth, as the world forgets you, as you recognize your transience, you begin to lose your characteristics one by one, as you learn that there is no one watching you, and there never was, you think only about driving, not coming from any place, not arriving any place, just driving, counting off time, now you are here, it’s 7:43, now you are here, it’s 7:44, now you are---gone.
-
Where is everyone?
– Mostly dead—some have left—
(paraphrase) I’m tired,…and lonely...everyone’s dreams.. in all those lives, all those thoughts, we’ll never know, that’s the truth of it.
I love you
I love you too.
I know how to do this play now…I have an idea.
Synecdoche, New York, Screenplay – Charlie Kaufman.
"There are almost thirteen billion people in the world and not one is an extra. They are all leads in their own stories. And they must be given their due.
I woke up and found my life. She helped me find my after I lost it.
The end is built into the beginning.
-
Everything is more complicated than you think. We see only 10% of what is true. There are a million little strings attached to every decision we make. And you destroy your life every time you choose and maybe you won’t even know it for twenty years. And you may never trace that decision to its source. You only get the one chance to play it out.
And they say that there is no fate—but there is: it’s what we create. Even though the world goes on for eons and eons we are here for only a fraction of a second. Most of our time is spent being dead or not yet born. But while we’re alive we wait in vain wasting years for a phone call or a letter or a look from someone or something to make it all right.
But it never comes or it seems to but doesn’t really so we spend our time in vague regret or vague hope that something good will come along. Something that will make us feel connected, make us feel whole, make us feel loved.
-
What was before us, our exciting mysterious future is now behind you. Understood, disappointing. We realize we are not special; we have struggled into existence and now are stepping silently outward. This is everyone’s experience, every single one. The specifics hardly matter. Everyone is everyone.
-
As the people who adore you stop adoring you—as they die,as they move on, as you shed them, as you shed your beauty, your youth, as the world forgets you, as you recognize your transience, you begin to lose your characteristics one by one, as you learn that there is no one watching you, and there never was, you think only about driving, not coming from any place, not arriving any place, just driving, counting off time, now you are here, it’s 7:43, now you are here, it’s 7:44, now you are---gone.
-
Where is everyone?
– Mostly dead—some have left—
(paraphrase) I’m tired,…and lonely...everyone’s dreams.. in all those lives, all those thoughts, we’ll never know, that’s the truth of it.
I love you
I love you too.
I know how to do this play now…I have an idea.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
Word of the Day for Thursday, August 28, 2008
chthonic \THONE-ik\, adjective:
Dwelling in or under the earth; also, pertaining to the underworld
"Driven by dæmonic, chthonic Powers."
-- T.S. Eliot
"The chthonic divinity was essentially a god of the regions under the earth; at first of the dark home of the seed, later on of the still darker home of the dead."
-- C. F. Keary
"The chthonic imagery of Norine's apartment, which..was black as a coalhole and heated by the furnace of the hostess' unslaked desires."
-- M. McCarthy
"Two great and contrasted forms of ritual: the Olympian and the Chthonic, the one a ritual of cheerful character, the other a ritual of gloom, and fostering superstition."
Chthonic comes from khthón, the Greek word for earth.
Dictionary.com Entry and Pronunciation for chthonic
Word of the Day for Thursday, August 28, 2008
chthonic \THONE-ik\, adjective:
Dwelling in or under the earth; also, pertaining to the underworld
"Driven by dæmonic, chthonic Powers."
-- T.S. Eliot
"The chthonic divinity was essentially a god of the regions under the earth; at first of the dark home of the seed, later on of the still darker home of the dead."
-- C. F. Keary
"The chthonic imagery of Norine's apartment, which..was black as a coalhole and heated by the furnace of the hostess' unslaked desires."
-- M. McCarthy
"Two great and contrasted forms of ritual: the Olympian and the Chthonic, the one a ritual of cheerful character, the other a ritual of gloom, and fostering superstition."
Chthonic comes from khthón, the Greek word for earth.
Dictionary.com Entry and Pronunciation for chthonic
Wednesday, July 08, 2009
Tuesday, July 07, 2009
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
The forest is a solemn place of wonder and discovery. It is there that most often that the cosmos comes to fill the soul. This is a time when all is shed and room is made for universal commonality and centrality.
You are a part of all and all is a part of you. You can feel it most among the trees.
m
The forest is a solemn place of wonder and discovery. It is there that most often that the cosmos comes to fill the soul. This is a time when all is shed and room is made for universal commonality and centrality.
You are a part of all and all is a part of you. You can feel it most among the trees.
m
Monday, July 06, 2009
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
Is there a distinction between what is real and what is apparently real? This goes to my Picasso story about the "print" in his hostess' bathroom, that he identifies as being an original. His hostess immediately takes the print from the bathroom and replaces another painting from its honored place above the mantelpiece in her living room with the newly discovered Picasso original.
"But why?" asks Picasso, isn't it the same work that was previously delegated to the bathroom?
Is there a distinction between what is real and what is apparently real?
+++++++++++++++++++++
"Three Indian climbers were trapped high on the Northeast Ridge (of Everest) on May 10, and early the next morning a Japanese party intent on the summit walked past them, though they were still alive. By the time the Japanese descended, one of the climbers was dead, another missing, a third barely alive and tangled in his rope. They removed the rope from the survivor but made no effort to help him down the mountain. He too would die. 'Above eight thousand meters,' one of the Japanese climbers offered by way of self-justification, 'is not a place where people can afford morality.' "
"Fallen Giants, A History of Himalayan Mountaineering from the Age of Empire to the Age of Extremes" Maurice Isserman & Stewart Weaver
Is there a distinction between what is real and what is apparently real? This goes to my Picasso story about the "print" in his hostess' bathroom, that he identifies as being an original. His hostess immediately takes the print from the bathroom and replaces another painting from its honored place above the mantelpiece in her living room with the newly discovered Picasso original.
"But why?" asks Picasso, isn't it the same work that was previously delegated to the bathroom?
Is there a distinction between what is real and what is apparently real?
+++++++++++++++++++++
"Three Indian climbers were trapped high on the Northeast Ridge (of Everest) on May 10, and early the next morning a Japanese party intent on the summit walked past them, though they were still alive. By the time the Japanese descended, one of the climbers was dead, another missing, a third barely alive and tangled in his rope. They removed the rope from the survivor but made no effort to help him down the mountain. He too would die. 'Above eight thousand meters,' one of the Japanese climbers offered by way of self-justification, 'is not a place where people can afford morality.' "
"Fallen Giants, A History of Himalayan Mountaineering from the Age of Empire to the Age of Extremes" Maurice Isserman & Stewart Weaver
Sunday, July 05, 2009
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
Monkeys:
Put eight monkeys in a room. In the middle of the room is a ladder,
leading to a bunch of bananas hanging from a hook. Each time a monkey tries to climb the ladder, all the monkeys are sprayed with ice water, which makes them miserable.
Soon enough, whenever a monkey attempts to climb the ladder, all of the other
monkeys, not wanting to be sprayed, set upon him and beat him up. Soon, none of the eight monkeys ever attempts to climb the ladder.
One of the original monkeys is then removed, and a new monkey is put
in the room. Seeing the bananas and the ladder, he wonders why none of the other monkeys are doing the obvious. But undaunted, he immediately begins to climb the
ladder. All the other monkeys fall upon him and beat him silly. He has no idea why.
However, he no longer attempts to climb the ladder.
A second original monkey is removed and replaced. The newcomer again attempts to
climb the ladder, but all the other monkeys hammer the @%!*# out of him. This includes the previous new monkey, who, grateful that he's not on the receiving
end this time, participates in the beating because all the other monkeys are doing
it.
However, he has no idea why he's attacking the new monkey.
One by one, all the original monkeys are replaced. Eight new monkeys are now in the
room. None of them have ever been sprayed by ice water. None of them attempt to
climb the ladder. All of them will enthusiastically beat up any new monkey who tries, without having any idea why.
Monkeys:
Put eight monkeys in a room. In the middle of the room is a ladder,
leading to a bunch of bananas hanging from a hook. Each time a monkey tries to climb the ladder, all the monkeys are sprayed with ice water, which makes them miserable.
Soon enough, whenever a monkey attempts to climb the ladder, all of the other
monkeys, not wanting to be sprayed, set upon him and beat him up. Soon, none of the eight monkeys ever attempts to climb the ladder.
One of the original monkeys is then removed, and a new monkey is put
in the room. Seeing the bananas and the ladder, he wonders why none of the other monkeys are doing the obvious. But undaunted, he immediately begins to climb the
ladder. All the other monkeys fall upon him and beat him silly. He has no idea why.
However, he no longer attempts to climb the ladder.
A second original monkey is removed and replaced. The newcomer again attempts to
climb the ladder, but all the other monkeys hammer the @%!*# out of him. This includes the previous new monkey, who, grateful that he's not on the receiving
end this time, participates in the beating because all the other monkeys are doing
it.
However, he has no idea why he's attacking the new monkey.
One by one, all the original monkeys are replaced. Eight new monkeys are now in the
room. None of them have ever been sprayed by ice water. None of them attempt to
climb the ladder. All of them will enthusiastically beat up any new monkey who tries, without having any idea why.
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
From "Public Enemy" -- 2009
Some folks are for 'come from,'
Others are for 'going to.'
Johnny Depp (John Dillinger)
BUT
From "Out of the Past' -- 1947
Robert Mitchum (Jeff) and Jane Greer (Kathy) have this dialog:
Jeff: What's your name?
Kathy: Kathy.
Jeff:I like that name.
Kathy: But do you know where I come from?
Jeff: Baby, I don't care. I'm thinking about where we're going.
From "Public Enemy" -- 2009
Some folks are for 'come from,'
Others are for 'going to.'
Johnny Depp (John Dillinger)
BUT
From "Out of the Past' -- 1947
Robert Mitchum (Jeff) and Jane Greer (Kathy) have this dialog:
Jeff: What's your name?
Kathy: Kathy.
Jeff:I like that name.
Kathy: But do you know where I come from?
Jeff: Baby, I don't care. I'm thinking about where we're going.
Wednesday, July 01, 2009
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
watched The Burmese Harp tonight.
High in the castle in springtime
At a flower viewing banquet
The sake goblet makes the rounds
Casting its shadow against the walls.
through boughs of ancient pine
Moonlight shines
where has it gone
the light of days long past...
-------------------------------------------
There is no end to words of farewell.
watched The Burmese Harp tonight.
High in the castle in springtime
At a flower viewing banquet
The sake goblet makes the rounds
Casting its shadow against the walls.
through boughs of ancient pine
Moonlight shines
where has it gone
the light of days long past...
-------------------------------------------
There is no end to words of farewell.
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
Another from Cavafy:
The Windows
In these shadowed rooms, in which I pass
gloomy days, up and down I pace
that I might find the windows. ---For a window
to be open would be a consolation.---
But there are no windows, or I can't
find them. And perhaps it's best I don't.
Perhaps the light will be a new oppression.
Who knows what new things it will show.
Translator: Daniel Mendelsohn
Another from Cavafy:
The Windows
In these shadowed rooms, in which I pass
gloomy days, up and down I pace
that I might find the windows. ---For a window
to be open would be a consolation.---
But there are no windows, or I can't
find them. And perhaps it's best I don't.
Perhaps the light will be a new oppression.
Who knows what new things it will show.
Translator: Daniel Mendelsohn
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
Notes from Bergman, "Through a Glass Darkly"
certainty unmasked.
One draws a magic circle around one's self to keep everything out that doesn't fit ones secret games..secret garden...
Each time that life breaks through the circle the games become puny and ridiculous so one draws a new circle and creates new defenses.
I'm scared Papa--anything can happen. Reality burst open and I tumbled out. It's like in a dream.Anything can happen.Anything.
" I know."
I can't live in this new world.
"Yes, you can. But you must have something to hold onto."
What would that be? A God? Give me some proof of god. You can't.
"Yes I can. But you have to listen carefully."
Yes, I need to listen.
"I can give you only a hint of my own hope. It's knowing that love exists for real in the human world."
A special kind of love, I suppose?
"All kinds. the highest and the lowest, the most absurd and the most sublime.All kinds of love..
The longing for love?
"Longing and denial. Trust and distrust."
So Love is the proof?
"I don't know if love is the proof of God's existence, or if love is God himself."
For you, love and God is the same.
"That thought helps me in my emptiness and in my dirty despair."
Tell me more, Papa.
"Suddenly the emptiness turns into abundance and despair into life. It's like a reprieve, my son, from a death sentence."
Papa, if it's as you say, then Karen is surrounded by God, since we love her.
"Yes."
Can that help her?
"I believe so." Papa leaves the room.
Papa spoke to to me...
Notes from Bergman, "Through a Glass Darkly"
certainty unmasked.
One draws a magic circle around one's self to keep everything out that doesn't fit ones secret games..secret garden...
Each time that life breaks through the circle the games become puny and ridiculous so one draws a new circle and creates new defenses.
I'm scared Papa--anything can happen. Reality burst open and I tumbled out. It's like in a dream.Anything can happen.Anything.
" I know."
I can't live in this new world.
"Yes, you can. But you must have something to hold onto."
What would that be? A God? Give me some proof of god. You can't.
"Yes I can. But you have to listen carefully."
Yes, I need to listen.
"I can give you only a hint of my own hope. It's knowing that love exists for real in the human world."
A special kind of love, I suppose?
"All kinds. the highest and the lowest, the most absurd and the most sublime.All kinds of love..
The longing for love?
"Longing and denial. Trust and distrust."
So Love is the proof?
"I don't know if love is the proof of God's existence, or if love is God himself."
For you, love and God is the same.
"That thought helps me in my emptiness and in my dirty despair."
Tell me more, Papa.
"Suddenly the emptiness turns into abundance and despair into life. It's like a reprieve, my son, from a death sentence."
Papa, if it's as you say, then Karen is surrounded by God, since we love her.
"Yes."
Can that help her?
"I believe so." Papa leaves the room.
Papa spoke to to me...
Monday, June 29, 2009
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
Yesterday
My friend says I was not a good son
you understand
I say yes I understand
he says I did not go
to see my parents very often you know
and I say yes I know
even when I was living in the same city he says
maybe I would go there once
a month or maybe even less
I say oh yes
he says the last time I went to see my father
I say the last time I saw my father
he says the last time I saw my father
he was asking me about my life
how I was making out and he
went into the next room
to get something to give me
oh I say
feeling again the cold
of my father's hand the last time
he says and my father turned
in the doorway and saw me
look at my wristwatch and he
said you know I would like you to stay
and talk with me
oh yes I say
but if you are busy he said
I don't want you to feel that you
have to
just because I'm here
I say nothing
he says my father
said maybe
you have important work you are doing
or maybe you should be seeing
somebody I don't want to keep you
I look out the window
my friend is older than I am
he says and I told my father it was so
and I got up and left him then
you know
though there was nowhere I had to go
and nothing I had to do
W. S.Merwin.
I heard Merwin recite "Yesterday" on Bill Moyers Journal, yesterday, (smile) --
-
Is this what poetry is to do? A lump in my throat? A catching of my breath? Thoughts of my father on his deathbed, looking up at me, also considerate, as though I had something more important to do than to be with him during those last days?
-
- Mr. Merwin, you brought back those feelings that I had then--and more you brought back to me my father, my Dad, as much a part of me as I am myself, a missing part of me, but that still resides in me, Oh, Dad, if only...
Yesterday
My friend says I was not a good son
you understand
I say yes I understand
he says I did not go
to see my parents very often you know
and I say yes I know
even when I was living in the same city he says
maybe I would go there once
a month or maybe even less
I say oh yes
he says the last time I went to see my father
I say the last time I saw my father
he says the last time I saw my father
he was asking me about my life
how I was making out and he
went into the next room
to get something to give me
oh I say
feeling again the cold
of my father's hand the last time
he says and my father turned
in the doorway and saw me
look at my wristwatch and he
said you know I would like you to stay
and talk with me
oh yes I say
but if you are busy he said
I don't want you to feel that you
have to
just because I'm here
I say nothing
he says my father
said maybe
you have important work you are doing
or maybe you should be seeing
somebody I don't want to keep you
I look out the window
my friend is older than I am
he says and I told my father it was so
and I got up and left him then
you know
though there was nowhere I had to go
and nothing I had to do
W. S.Merwin.
I heard Merwin recite "Yesterday" on Bill Moyers Journal, yesterday, (smile) --
-
Is this what poetry is to do? A lump in my throat? A catching of my breath? Thoughts of my father on his deathbed, looking up at me, also considerate, as though I had something more important to do than to be with him during those last days?
-
- Mr. Merwin, you brought back those feelings that I had then--and more you brought back to me my father, my Dad, as much a part of me as I am myself, a missing part of me, but that still resides in me, Oh, Dad, if only...
Sunday, June 28, 2009
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
TODAY'S BIBLE THOUGHT
"Now King David was old and stricken in years: and they covered him with clothes, but he gat no heat. Wherefore his servants said unto him, Let there be sought for my Lord the King a young virgin: and let her stand before the king, and let her cherish him, and let her lie in thy bosom, that the Lord my King may get heat."
Tomorrow, or later, I'll fill in further important details. But, for now think on this passage.
TODAY'S BIBLE THOUGHT
"Now King David was old and stricken in years: and they covered him with clothes, but he gat no heat. Wherefore his servants said unto him, Let there be sought for my Lord the King a young virgin: and let her stand before the king, and let her cherish him, and let her lie in thy bosom, that the Lord my King may get heat."
Tomorrow, or later, I'll fill in further important details. But, for now think on this passage.
Saturday, June 27, 2009
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
Nietzsche says that all relationships must be understood on the basis of power.I do not see this. The idea doesn't resonate with me. The balance of power--who wins who loses in a relationship seems trivial and irrelevant.
As I read my comment I wonder whether I am avoiding a Truth that has been presented to me.
A mans task, Nietzsche says, is to accept himself. It is not to make, force, have others accept him. "your task is to accept yourself--not to find ways to gain acceptance."
Too much time is spent looking in books for the secret of life. I've been talking, reading, writing for the past 60 years. I say "enough!"
I spend my nights in a vicious fury at what I've missed in life--the life I let slip away..God may know what my real calling is--but I don't.
I've squandered my past on non-sense. I've grown old with the smile of a fool on my face. How can a pretty decent life be such a disappointment? My time is past, I'm overworked and jaded. This truth, no matter how bad is worse than uncertainty, but I've dwelt in uncertainity all my life and I'm still there.
Nietzsche says that all relationships must be understood on the basis of power.I do not see this. The idea doesn't resonate with me. The balance of power--who wins who loses in a relationship seems trivial and irrelevant.
As I read my comment I wonder whether I am avoiding a Truth that has been presented to me.
A mans task, Nietzsche says, is to accept himself. It is not to make, force, have others accept him. "your task is to accept yourself--not to find ways to gain acceptance."
Too much time is spent looking in books for the secret of life. I've been talking, reading, writing for the past 60 years. I say "enough!"
I spend my nights in a vicious fury at what I've missed in life--the life I let slip away..God may know what my real calling is--but I don't.
I've squandered my past on non-sense. I've grown old with the smile of a fool on my face. How can a pretty decent life be such a disappointment? My time is past, I'm overworked and jaded. This truth, no matter how bad is worse than uncertainty, but I've dwelt in uncertainity all my life and I'm still there.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
A friend seeks God on earth. I saw the Bergman Trilogy recently: through a Glass Darkly, The Silence, and Winter Light. Bergman sought the God that he thought he lost by engaging with families, as though it would be in the family that God might be found. The Trilogy deals with families. I doubt that Bergman found a God in those families.
He changed cameraman from Gunner Fisher to Sven Nykvist, and yet, although quite different, these films also have a photographic quality that engages the viewer. Fisher was more of a studio lighting expert and achieved stark expressionist scenes by manipulating the light in the studio--my favorites being the portrait of Death in Seventh Seal, and the greatest portrait in film, in Wild Strawberries, of the old professor on the brink of death, wistfully, sadly looking into a vision of his happy childhood with his parents fishing together at the edge of the sea.
But, the cameraman for the Triology, Sven Nykvist, worked almost strictly with natural light, and his outdoor scenes are marvelous and true.
A friend seeks God on earth. I saw the Bergman Trilogy recently: through a Glass Darkly, The Silence, and Winter Light. Bergman sought the God that he thought he lost by engaging with families, as though it would be in the family that God might be found. The Trilogy deals with families. I doubt that Bergman found a God in those families.
He changed cameraman from Gunner Fisher to Sven Nykvist, and yet, although quite different, these films also have a photographic quality that engages the viewer. Fisher was more of a studio lighting expert and achieved stark expressionist scenes by manipulating the light in the studio--my favorites being the portrait of Death in Seventh Seal, and the greatest portrait in film, in Wild Strawberries, of the old professor on the brink of death, wistfully, sadly looking into a vision of his happy childhood with his parents fishing together at the edge of the sea.
But, the cameraman for the Triology, Sven Nykvist, worked almost strictly with natural light, and his outdoor scenes are marvelous and true.
Sunday, June 21, 2009
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
He's so happy-go-lucky that he'll dance under the rope that hung him.
mek
Soon the dance will be ending
We're sure to be missed.
Ah, but I'm not pretending,
It's fun to be kissed.
In the dark we will find
What the rest left behind.
Let them dance, we'll romance
In the da-a-a-ark.
_____________________________
The song is ended
But the melody goes on.
It's no use raking over the past
The ashes have gone cold.
"Pennies from Heaven" -- Denis Potter
He's so happy-go-lucky that he'll dance under the rope that hung him.
mek
Soon the dance will be ending
We're sure to be missed.
Ah, but I'm not pretending,
It's fun to be kissed.
In the dark we will find
What the rest left behind.
Let them dance, we'll romance
In the da-a-a-ark.
_____________________________
The song is ended
But the melody goes on.
It's no use raking over the past
The ashes have gone cold.
"Pennies from Heaven" -- Denis Potter
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Friday, June 12, 2009
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Monday, June 08, 2009
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
FOUND IN AN OLD COMPUTER: FROM 2002
I do not read anything of AWAD but the daily word itself. I did not know that there was a book. We are in Great Neck since June staying at a friend's apartment who has a place in the Hamptons. We have brought Florida weather with us. Sorry.
My studies of Leopold II temporarily put aside, I am now reading Ben Hecht's autobiography which brings back many of the names of my youth, unknown by anyone of your generation except, of course, you, names like Sherwood Anderson, Charles MacAurthur, Fanny Brice, Gene Fowler, Billy Rose, Mike Ben Ami (Israeli gun runner,) William Frawley, David Bellasco (now you know who the theater is named for--he was a producer) Red Grange, Hugo Haase*--I didn't know the name either--anyway a hoard of names was buried deep in my mind, and mining them has been fun, not the back breaking work that usually accompanies my literary "studies" when I must struggle to learn new names. Recovering the old ones is easier, and the slagheap shrinks.
Of course, there are many others mentioned in Hecht’s book who are still known names, but what interests me is the number of names who were important in Hecht's day who have been forgotten by Everyone, and who were not even known in the fifties. At least not known by me in the fifties. Fame is, indeed, fleeting.
Maria knew one of the names: Bill Frawley.
Well, here's a factoid for you: Sherwood Anderson died on shipboard after swallowing a toothpick in an hors d'oeuvre sausage. So much for toothpicks & sausage, eh?
Much of my reading this spring and summer has emphasized the inhumanity of man, and we are reminded that it is nothing new. You can read about it in the Bible, some of the inhumanity ordered by God Himself. Gross told me a little about the un-Godlike punishments delineated in the Bible but I didn’t pay attention until I began to read about the other genocides we’ve lived through.
Strange, eh? Well, Leopold and his minions were no pikers when it came to elemental bestial horror, and with these biographies under my belt "Heart of Darkness” gets a new reading, the horror now being the Belgians and Europeans rather than the Africans. It’s not as though the Africans learned much from us, they had some of their own home-grown horrors, but it is true that bestial behavior on earth isn’t limited to the beasts, nor is it limited to Saddam, Stalin and Hitler.
Gross has moved from his study of religion to a new study of science based on his reading of science written for the “educated layman.” Well, we may not be properly educated, but we are laymen. He mentioned his astonishment at the miracle of our presence on earth, considering all the mischance that could have occurred going back millions of years even before there was a man who could be inhumane to his fellow creatures.
Eons of evolution brought us to the human state and at any minute during all those eons the path leading to humanity could have been obliterated; then more eons when anyone of our ancestors could have been killed or could have died of illness before having the offspring that would lead to us.
For this alone, we should give more honor to our grandparents and those before them. Look at me—in effect the penultimate of the Katz line—it doesn’t look as though Aaron will have any more children and most likely Max will remain childless. So, there’s no more Katz’.
But all the ones before us struggled, starved, froze, planted, hunted, star gazed, humbled themselves (or didn’t), just so that you and I could be here worrying about our weight or a tax increase. How many times did we hide in the woods, hearing our neighbors being raped and killed? Look, we’re just dots in the universe and lucky dots at that.
So why are we so bad to each other? Jerry, the fellow in whose apartment we are staying, had a daughter who died of cancer in her thirties. Right now he is having an air conditioning problem. I remarked that Maria and I felt bad for him, and he answered, with more than a lump in his throat and a tear in his eye, that after losing a daughter he was able to focus on the real, the good and the important. According to Jerry, air conditioning filters don’t fit into any of those categories.
Genocide: A case may be made that the first genocide was God's killing of the first born Egyptians. Since then genocide has been a popular method of taking control of land or getting rid of neighbors.
The twentieth century has seen plenty of genocidal terrors--starting early in the century with the Turkish eradication of the Armenians. Americans stood by and allowed it to happen, denying all the time that it was happening, in spite of Ambassador Morgenthau's warnings, protests, and pleadings with our Congress. We wanted to maintain a delicate relationship with the Otttoman Empire and so we said nothing. We've always found diplomatic or policy rationalizations for ignoring humanity in need. Need I remind you of Cambodia, Bosnia or Rwanda?
A Problem from Hell -- America and the Age of Genocide -- Samantha Power -- Race Murders in the twentieth century --Armenia Cambodia, Holocaust, Bosnia, the Kurds, Kosovo, Rwanda. But remember genocide goes back much further than the 20th century.
Leopold II of the Belgians, King of Colonialism -- Barbara Emerson.
Leopold owned the Congo personally and his evil is painted herein by a silken brush.
King Leopold's Ghost: Adam Hochschild. Genocide and plunder in the Congo. Money making for the very rich and unconcerned.
*Hugo Haase was a German hero-politician of the twenties and thirties who chose to stand up to the Weimar Government when it massacred two thousand Germans in Moabit prison and later chose to stand up to the Nazis and was assassinated for it on the steps of the German Parliament.
Well, its late. I’m going to call my granddaughter Remi, and give her a hug over the phone.
Buster Stronghart
FOUND IN AN OLD COMPUTER: FROM 2002
I do not read anything of AWAD but the daily word itself. I did not know that there was a book. We are in Great Neck since June staying at a friend's apartment who has a place in the Hamptons. We have brought Florida weather with us. Sorry.
My studies of Leopold II temporarily put aside, I am now reading Ben Hecht's autobiography which brings back many of the names of my youth, unknown by anyone of your generation except, of course, you, names like Sherwood Anderson, Charles MacAurthur, Fanny Brice, Gene Fowler, Billy Rose, Mike Ben Ami (Israeli gun runner,) William Frawley, David Bellasco (now you know who the theater is named for--he was a producer) Red Grange, Hugo Haase*--I didn't know the name either--anyway a hoard of names was buried deep in my mind, and mining them has been fun, not the back breaking work that usually accompanies my literary "studies" when I must struggle to learn new names. Recovering the old ones is easier, and the slagheap shrinks.
Of course, there are many others mentioned in Hecht’s book who are still known names, but what interests me is the number of names who were important in Hecht's day who have been forgotten by Everyone, and who were not even known in the fifties. At least not known by me in the fifties. Fame is, indeed, fleeting.
Maria knew one of the names: Bill Frawley.
Well, here's a factoid for you: Sherwood Anderson died on shipboard after swallowing a toothpick in an hors d'oeuvre sausage. So much for toothpicks & sausage, eh?
Much of my reading this spring and summer has emphasized the inhumanity of man, and we are reminded that it is nothing new. You can read about it in the Bible, some of the inhumanity ordered by God Himself. Gross told me a little about the un-Godlike punishments delineated in the Bible but I didn’t pay attention until I began to read about the other genocides we’ve lived through.
Strange, eh? Well, Leopold and his minions were no pikers when it came to elemental bestial horror, and with these biographies under my belt "Heart of Darkness” gets a new reading, the horror now being the Belgians and Europeans rather than the Africans. It’s not as though the Africans learned much from us, they had some of their own home-grown horrors, but it is true that bestial behavior on earth isn’t limited to the beasts, nor is it limited to Saddam, Stalin and Hitler.
Gross has moved from his study of religion to a new study of science based on his reading of science written for the “educated layman.” Well, we may not be properly educated, but we are laymen. He mentioned his astonishment at the miracle of our presence on earth, considering all the mischance that could have occurred going back millions of years even before there was a man who could be inhumane to his fellow creatures.
Eons of evolution brought us to the human state and at any minute during all those eons the path leading to humanity could have been obliterated; then more eons when anyone of our ancestors could have been killed or could have died of illness before having the offspring that would lead to us.
For this alone, we should give more honor to our grandparents and those before them. Look at me—in effect the penultimate of the Katz line—it doesn’t look as though Aaron will have any more children and most likely Max will remain childless. So, there’s no more Katz’.
But all the ones before us struggled, starved, froze, planted, hunted, star gazed, humbled themselves (or didn’t), just so that you and I could be here worrying about our weight or a tax increase. How many times did we hide in the woods, hearing our neighbors being raped and killed? Look, we’re just dots in the universe and lucky dots at that.
So why are we so bad to each other? Jerry, the fellow in whose apartment we are staying, had a daughter who died of cancer in her thirties. Right now he is having an air conditioning problem. I remarked that Maria and I felt bad for him, and he answered, with more than a lump in his throat and a tear in his eye, that after losing a daughter he was able to focus on the real, the good and the important. According to Jerry, air conditioning filters don’t fit into any of those categories.
Genocide: A case may be made that the first genocide was God's killing of the first born Egyptians. Since then genocide has been a popular method of taking control of land or getting rid of neighbors.
The twentieth century has seen plenty of genocidal terrors--starting early in the century with the Turkish eradication of the Armenians. Americans stood by and allowed it to happen, denying all the time that it was happening, in spite of Ambassador Morgenthau's warnings, protests, and pleadings with our Congress. We wanted to maintain a delicate relationship with the Otttoman Empire and so we said nothing. We've always found diplomatic or policy rationalizations for ignoring humanity in need. Need I remind you of Cambodia, Bosnia or Rwanda?
A Problem from Hell -- America and the Age of Genocide -- Samantha Power -- Race Murders in the twentieth century --Armenia Cambodia, Holocaust, Bosnia, the Kurds, Kosovo, Rwanda. But remember genocide goes back much further than the 20th century.
Leopold II of the Belgians, King of Colonialism -- Barbara Emerson.
Leopold owned the Congo personally and his evil is painted herein by a silken brush.
King Leopold's Ghost: Adam Hochschild. Genocide and plunder in the Congo. Money making for the very rich and unconcerned.
*Hugo Haase was a German hero-politician of the twenties and thirties who chose to stand up to the Weimar Government when it massacred two thousand Germans in Moabit prison and later chose to stand up to the Nazis and was assassinated for it on the steps of the German Parliament.
Well, its late. I’m going to call my granddaughter Remi, and give her a hug over the phone.
Buster Stronghart
Sunday, June 07, 2009
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
A Different Perspective on Health Care
There are many letters I could quote, but let me give you a counter for the statistics from last week from Raoul Pal of Spain. And of course, there are other statistics that can be brought in to make almost any case you want. But I found these to be very thought-provoking.
"Using the Economists World in Figures I think there is a very interesting and maybe appalling story to tell. In its simplest terms a healthcare system is there to extend the longevity of live of the population. It is the single best and simplest way to judge it because we can all find examples of where one country is better than another but the longevity stats don't lie. When we use that framework the picture is incredibly different. The US has many of the best doctors and medical care in the world but it doesn't work for the population as a whole and therein lies the problem.
"According to the Economist the total US spend on healthcare is 15.4% of GDP including both state and private . With that it gets 2.6 doctors per 1,000 people, 3.3 hospital beds and its people live to an average age of 78.2
"UK - spends 8.1% of GDP, gets 2.3 doctors, 4.2 hospital beds and live to an average age of 79.4. So for roughly half the cost their citizens overall get about the same benefit in terms of longevity of life.
"Canada - spends 9.8% of GDP on healthcare, gets 2.1 doctors, 3.6 hospital beds and live until they are 80.6 yrs
"Now if we look at the more social model in Europe the results become even more surprising:
"France - spends 10.5%, 3.4 docs, 7.5 beds and live until they are 80.6
"Spain - spends 8.1% , 3.3 docs , 3.8 beds and live until they are 81
"As a whole Europe spends 9.6% of GDP on healthcare, has 3.9 doctors per 1,000 people, 6.6 hospital beds and live until they are 81.15 years old.
"The list goes on. The truth is that in many cases as is pointed out the healthcare system is better in the US than in some other countries BUT US citizens must therefore get ill more often than any other country in the West in order to achieve the truly appalling statistic that they are the 41 longest living nation on earth with France, Spain, Norway, Switzerland, Italy, Austria, Andorra, Holland, Greece and Sweden all featuring in the top 20 longest living nations and the UK and Germany at 22.
"This is the big failure of the US system. It is unforgivable. You may get a better chance of recovering from certain diseases but as a whole you will die younger in the US than most developed countries. ... Something is severely broken."
I had many letters from all over the world on this issue both pro and con. And some very lively discussions with health professionals. One pointed out to me that the uninsured in the US when they need a doctor often go to an emergency room for what should be a $50 office visit and end up with a $5,000 bill, which does not get paid and runs up insurance costs for those who do have it. As Dr. Mike Roizen points out in his many books, simply eating right, exercising and other common sense things would cut out much of our health care costs. When one-third of children in elementary schools are overweight, we need to get a grip on what we are doing to the next generation.
In the US, many of us are worried about government rationed health care. Others are worried that they have no access to health care at all. It is a very complicated issue. Let's hope that whatever Congress does really does help. And that the coming revolution in new medicines and procedures gets here as soon as it can for all of us.
John Maudlin
A Different Perspective on Health Care
There are many letters I could quote, but let me give you a counter for the statistics from last week from Raoul Pal of Spain. And of course, there are other statistics that can be brought in to make almost any case you want. But I found these to be very thought-provoking.
"Using the Economists World in Figures I think there is a very interesting and maybe appalling story to tell. In its simplest terms a healthcare system is there to extend the longevity of live of the population. It is the single best and simplest way to judge it because we can all find examples of where one country is better than another but the longevity stats don't lie. When we use that framework the picture is incredibly different. The US has many of the best doctors and medical care in the world but it doesn't work for the population as a whole and therein lies the problem.
"According to the Economist the total US spend on healthcare is 15.4% of GDP including both state and private . With that it gets 2.6 doctors per 1,000 people, 3.3 hospital beds and its people live to an average age of 78.2
"UK - spends 8.1% of GDP, gets 2.3 doctors, 4.2 hospital beds and live to an average age of 79.4. So for roughly half the cost their citizens overall get about the same benefit in terms of longevity of life.
"Canada - spends 9.8% of GDP on healthcare, gets 2.1 doctors, 3.6 hospital beds and live until they are 80.6 yrs
"Now if we look at the more social model in Europe the results become even more surprising:
"France - spends 10.5%, 3.4 docs, 7.5 beds and live until they are 80.6
"Spain - spends 8.1% , 3.3 docs , 3.8 beds and live until they are 81
"As a whole Europe spends 9.6% of GDP on healthcare, has 3.9 doctors per 1,000 people, 6.6 hospital beds and live until they are 81.15 years old.
"The list goes on. The truth is that in many cases as is pointed out the healthcare system is better in the US than in some other countries BUT US citizens must therefore get ill more often than any other country in the West in order to achieve the truly appalling statistic that they are the 41 longest living nation on earth with France, Spain, Norway, Switzerland, Italy, Austria, Andorra, Holland, Greece and Sweden all featuring in the top 20 longest living nations and the UK and Germany at 22.
"This is the big failure of the US system. It is unforgivable. You may get a better chance of recovering from certain diseases but as a whole you will die younger in the US than most developed countries. ... Something is severely broken."
I had many letters from all over the world on this issue both pro and con. And some very lively discussions with health professionals. One pointed out to me that the uninsured in the US when they need a doctor often go to an emergency room for what should be a $50 office visit and end up with a $5,000 bill, which does not get paid and runs up insurance costs for those who do have it. As Dr. Mike Roizen points out in his many books, simply eating right, exercising and other common sense things would cut out much of our health care costs. When one-third of children in elementary schools are overweight, we need to get a grip on what we are doing to the next generation.
In the US, many of us are worried about government rationed health care. Others are worried that they have no access to health care at all. It is a very complicated issue. Let's hope that whatever Congress does really does help. And that the coming revolution in new medicines and procedures gets here as soon as it can for all of us.
John Maudlin
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
Scotty was just about the only Florida Friend I have made.
He was a Wall Street kid who like to brag that he had made a few fortunes and lived in Paris, Miami, LA, and NY. He started with a high school education, never went to college. He and a friend started a small over-the-counter brokerage house with no money. Then they made a lot of money in the days when brokers could mark up stocks as they pleased.
He's been all over the world. He married very early and divorced very early. Since then he's been a bon vivant, playing the market and losing a lot of money along the way. He ended a renter at Southpoint, but a few years ago made enough money to move next door into Hermitage, the best of Ft. Lauderdale, and maybe Miami and PB too. The only thing wrong with Hermitage is that it's in Ft. Lauderdale.
He gave Aaron some business.
But his real activity was in commodities and very esoteric derivatives. He managed to go broke during the recent debacle--but was confident that he would come back. He told me that he had been broke several times before.
About five years ago he had a CA lung problem but read deeply into the literature, and decided for something that he called the Cyber Knife. He was okay for the last five years, but six months ago his doctors insisted that he had to take chemo &/or radiation or he would have only six months.
He took the six months. Five and one-half of them were pretty good. He died a few weeks ago.
He had a girl-friend, a Frenchie from Quebec. They had lived together but also lived apart on and off for about 25 years. He met her here at Southpoint--
She was with him solid for the past five years, but lived in Deerfield. During his six month death wait she lived in his apartment with him. They went to Rome, Bermuda and Nova Scotia, but mostly stayed here.
He had a brother who is "very well off" (Scotty's description) and lives in Baltimore. They didn't speak for many years. I don't know why. There were no other relatives.
When he died Frenchie, was there. He was in her arms.
She arranged for his cremation and called the brother. The brother came, told her to take the ashes, and then told her to get out of the apartment. (I would guess 1.5 million dollars, maybe a little less.)
A search for a will turned up nothing.
I can't believe it. It's the same as with Hal. Both Hal and Scottie knew that they were dying. Why didn't they take care of the ones they loved?
The brother will gets whatever is left. I have a feeling, however, that it will be very close to nothing. Scottie was the type who wouldn't hesitate to mortgage everything.
Frenchie, a devoted and very honest woman would not take anything--not even Scott's watch or a ring that he always wore.
Okay, now there's another part:
Frenchie decided to take the ashes and spread them out in the sea in front of Hermitage. This is fitting as Scottie used to call himself "The Beach Lover" and could often be seen back stroking up and down the beach, a few miles, almost every calm day. If he wasn't swimming he would be on the beach, sunning himself, and achieved, as you might see in the photos, a very deep tan--the kind of tan that Dad would get.
I asked Scottie what part of Russia his folks came from, as I have a very retro theory of racial physiognomy.
I believe that facial types and body characteristics exist and that only the recent (last 100 years) of racial and ethnic mixing have melted away these recognizable characteristics. My theory would be called eugenic and racist these days so keep it to yourself. Calling it retro is a euphemism.
I have seen many men with Dad's forehead and eyebrows, the line of his mouth and chin, his thin hair and his hairline. I believe that they all came from the same part of Russia, or the same Jewish clan even further back.
So Frenchie took his ashes to the verge of the sea one morning at six AM. She wanted to be alone, so I got up and watched from my terrace. I saw her come to the beach before sun-up, and so she waited, sitting on the sand, a small paper bag at her side.
When the sun peaked over the horizon she waited a few more minutes, and then went into the water, about knee deep and spread the ashes very carefully into the sea. She went back to the beach, sat down and waited about five more minutes. Then she took some roses out of the bag and spread them out over the ashes.
She turned her back to the sea and went over the dunes and disappeared from my view.
Immediately, on her disappearance, a second woman, a blond, about sixty, dressed in Capri pants, a pink blouse, and Jackie Kennedy sunglasses appeared from the north. She walked exactly to the spot in the ocean where Frenchie had spread the roses and the ashes and placed herself in what would have been the middle of the ashes and the roses.
She stirred up the water with her hands, as though attempting to wash herself with Scottie's ashes. She splashed some of the water on her body and on her face.
After a few moments she turned around and walked away, northwards, up the beach. I watched her as long as I could but then, she too disappeared.
Later that morning Frenchie had a small memorial service for Scott at Hermitage, over looking the beach.
The woman in pink did not appear.
Scotty was just about the only Florida Friend I have made.
He was a Wall Street kid who like to brag that he had made a few fortunes and lived in Paris, Miami, LA, and NY. He started with a high school education, never went to college. He and a friend started a small over-the-counter brokerage house with no money. Then they made a lot of money in the days when brokers could mark up stocks as they pleased.
He's been all over the world. He married very early and divorced very early. Since then he's been a bon vivant, playing the market and losing a lot of money along the way. He ended a renter at Southpoint, but a few years ago made enough money to move next door into Hermitage, the best of Ft. Lauderdale, and maybe Miami and PB too. The only thing wrong with Hermitage is that it's in Ft. Lauderdale.
He gave Aaron some business.
But his real activity was in commodities and very esoteric derivatives. He managed to go broke during the recent debacle--but was confident that he would come back. He told me that he had been broke several times before.
About five years ago he had a CA lung problem but read deeply into the literature, and decided for something that he called the Cyber Knife. He was okay for the last five years, but six months ago his doctors insisted that he had to take chemo &/or radiation or he would have only six months.
He took the six months. Five and one-half of them were pretty good. He died a few weeks ago.
He had a girl-friend, a Frenchie from Quebec. They had lived together but also lived apart on and off for about 25 years. He met her here at Southpoint--
She was with him solid for the past five years, but lived in Deerfield. During his six month death wait she lived in his apartment with him. They went to Rome, Bermuda and Nova Scotia, but mostly stayed here.
He had a brother who is "very well off" (Scotty's description) and lives in Baltimore. They didn't speak for many years. I don't know why. There were no other relatives.
When he died Frenchie, was there. He was in her arms.
She arranged for his cremation and called the brother. The brother came, told her to take the ashes, and then told her to get out of the apartment. (I would guess 1.5 million dollars, maybe a little less.)
A search for a will turned up nothing.
I can't believe it. It's the same as with Hal. Both Hal and Scottie knew that they were dying. Why didn't they take care of the ones they loved?
The brother will gets whatever is left. I have a feeling, however, that it will be very close to nothing. Scottie was the type who wouldn't hesitate to mortgage everything.
Frenchie, a devoted and very honest woman would not take anything--not even Scott's watch or a ring that he always wore.
Okay, now there's another part:
Frenchie decided to take the ashes and spread them out in the sea in front of Hermitage. This is fitting as Scottie used to call himself "The Beach Lover" and could often be seen back stroking up and down the beach, a few miles, almost every calm day. If he wasn't swimming he would be on the beach, sunning himself, and achieved, as you might see in the photos, a very deep tan--the kind of tan that Dad would get.
I asked Scottie what part of Russia his folks came from, as I have a very retro theory of racial physiognomy.
I believe that facial types and body characteristics exist and that only the recent (last 100 years) of racial and ethnic mixing have melted away these recognizable characteristics. My theory would be called eugenic and racist these days so keep it to yourself. Calling it retro is a euphemism.
I have seen many men with Dad's forehead and eyebrows, the line of his mouth and chin, his thin hair and his hairline. I believe that they all came from the same part of Russia, or the same Jewish clan even further back.
So Frenchie took his ashes to the verge of the sea one morning at six AM. She wanted to be alone, so I got up and watched from my terrace. I saw her come to the beach before sun-up, and so she waited, sitting on the sand, a small paper bag at her side.
When the sun peaked over the horizon she waited a few more minutes, and then went into the water, about knee deep and spread the ashes very carefully into the sea. She went back to the beach, sat down and waited about five more minutes. Then she took some roses out of the bag and spread them out over the ashes.
She turned her back to the sea and went over the dunes and disappeared from my view.
Immediately, on her disappearance, a second woman, a blond, about sixty, dressed in Capri pants, a pink blouse, and Jackie Kennedy sunglasses appeared from the north. She walked exactly to the spot in the ocean where Frenchie had spread the roses and the ashes and placed herself in what would have been the middle of the ashes and the roses.
She stirred up the water with her hands, as though attempting to wash herself with Scottie's ashes. She splashed some of the water on her body and on her face.
After a few moments she turned around and walked away, northwards, up the beach. I watched her as long as I could but then, she too disappeared.
Later that morning Frenchie had a small memorial service for Scott at Hermitage, over looking the beach.
The woman in pink did not appear.
Tuesday, June 02, 2009
Monday, June 01, 2009
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
‘The final instant, which in one final stroke will
erase your whole life, will itself be lost, with all
the rest, in the great abyss of nothingness. No
trace of what we are will remain on earth: the
flesh will change its nature; the body will take
on another name; even that of corpse will not
long remain. “it will become,” said Tertullian,
“a strange something that no longer has a name
in any language. “ ‘
‘The final instant, which in one final stroke will
erase your whole life, will itself be lost, with all
the rest, in the great abyss of nothingness. No
trace of what we are will remain on earth: the
flesh will change its nature; the body will take
on another name; even that of corpse will not
long remain. “it will become,” said Tertullian,
“a strange something that no longer has a name
in any language. “ ‘
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Sunday, May 24, 2009
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
H & M weren't happy together.
At the end, H's only wish was to outlive M so that she couldn't distribute what little money H had left to HER family. She outlived him by 5 weeks and C and N got nothing--as I am sure you have already heard from C.
I do not understand why H failed to make proper arrangements -- he didn't plan for the event of M outliving him, and, from what C told me, M gave every last tea-cup and earring to her own family and left N and C nothing, not even a souvenir tweezer. Almost all of the jewelry, flatware, and china came from H's mother.They were his family's heirlooms--and most of the antique furniture too.
When I visited New York, Naples, and "Beverly Hills Adjacent," M spoke only in the highest, most respectful terms about H; but H had nothing but disdain and hatred for M. A disconnect that boggled my mind then, and still does.
I would tell H about M's loving and prideful descriptions of H to me, and H would tell me that she was a phony.
Perhaps M had some sort of voodoo hold over H. I can't figure it out. Not that I didn't fall under her sway also--I liked her and laughed all night with them on many occasions--but get H alone or on the phone and all I would hear was how terrible, horrible she was.
Until a year or two ago, I thought of H as a very strong, if somewhat angry/bitter man. He was funny--his humor was hostile, and a night with H was guaranteed to be a night of laughs...
I thought of H -- as he thought of himself -- as a "producer," the guy who takes care of all the details, and thinks of everything. He chose the restaurants. Only he could mix a proper martini. And half the time he ordered for everyone. He knew what needed to be known and knew what was needed.----
But why didn't he write a new will? Why didn't he start to give his things to N and C? I know he was mad a C--but I also know that he wasn't mad at Nicole, and loved her deeply.
Very strange...
What was H like at Michigan?
mike
H & M weren't happy together.
At the end, H's only wish was to outlive M so that she couldn't distribute what little money H had left to HER family. She outlived him by 5 weeks and C and N got nothing--as I am sure you have already heard from C.
I do not understand why H failed to make proper arrangements -- he didn't plan for the event of M outliving him, and, from what C told me, M gave every last tea-cup and earring to her own family and left N and C nothing, not even a souvenir tweezer. Almost all of the jewelry, flatware, and china came from H's mother.They were his family's heirlooms--and most of the antique furniture too.
When I visited New York, Naples, and "Beverly Hills Adjacent," M spoke only in the highest, most respectful terms about H; but H had nothing but disdain and hatred for M. A disconnect that boggled my mind then, and still does.
I would tell H about M's loving and prideful descriptions of H to me, and H would tell me that she was a phony.
Perhaps M had some sort of voodoo hold over H. I can't figure it out. Not that I didn't fall under her sway also--I liked her and laughed all night with them on many occasions--but get H alone or on the phone and all I would hear was how terrible, horrible she was.
Until a year or two ago, I thought of H as a very strong, if somewhat angry/bitter man. He was funny--his humor was hostile, and a night with H was guaranteed to be a night of laughs...
I thought of H -- as he thought of himself -- as a "producer," the guy who takes care of all the details, and thinks of everything. He chose the restaurants. Only he could mix a proper martini. And half the time he ordered for everyone. He knew what needed to be known and knew what was needed.----
But why didn't he write a new will? Why didn't he start to give his things to N and C? I know he was mad a C--but I also know that he wasn't mad at Nicole, and loved her deeply.
Very strange...
What was H like at Michigan?
mike
Friday, May 22, 2009
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
Walls
Without regard, compassion or shame,
they built around me great high walls.
And I sit here now, and despair.
No other thought: My fate eats me.
Because I had so many things to do outside.
Alas, when they were building the walls
How could I not pay attention?
But I never heard noise from the builders, not a
sound.
Without my notice the closed me in from the world
outside.
C. P. Cavafy, 1896 - '97
translator: Alan A. Boegehold
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Walls
Without pity, without shame, without consideration
They've built around me enormous, towering walls.
And I sit here now in growing desperation.
This fate consumes my mind, I think of nothing else:
Because I had so many things to do out there.
O while they built the walls, why did I not look out?
But no noise, no sound from the builders did I hear.
Imperceptively they shut me off from the world without.
C.P. Cavafy, 1896-'97
Translator, Daniel Mendelson.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Here's a weaker translation:
Walls
With no consideration, no pity, no shame,
they have built walls around me, thick and high.
And now I sit here feeling hopeless.
I can't think of anything else: this fate gnaws my mind -
because I had so much to do outside.
When they were building the walls, how could I not have noticed!
But I never heard the builders, not a sound.
Imperceptibly they have closed me off from the outside world.
Constantine P. Cavafy
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
"who built these walls? -- me," for starters.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Walls
Without regard, compassion or shame,
they built around me great high walls.
And I sit here now, and despair.
No other thought: My fate eats me.
Because I had so many things to do outside.
Alas, when they were building the walls
How could I not pay attention?
But I never heard noise from the builders, not a
sound.
Without my notice the closed me in from the world
outside.
C. P. Cavafy, 1896 - '97
translator: Alan A. Boegehold
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Walls
Without pity, without shame, without consideration
They've built around me enormous, towering walls.
And I sit here now in growing desperation.
This fate consumes my mind, I think of nothing else:
Because I had so many things to do out there.
O while they built the walls, why did I not look out?
But no noise, no sound from the builders did I hear.
Imperceptively they shut me off from the world without.
C.P. Cavafy, 1896-'97
Translator, Daniel Mendelson.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Here's a weaker translation:
Walls
With no consideration, no pity, no shame,
they have built walls around me, thick and high.
And now I sit here feeling hopeless.
I can't think of anything else: this fate gnaws my mind -
because I had so much to do outside.
When they were building the walls, how could I not have noticed!
But I never heard the builders, not a sound.
Imperceptibly they have closed me off from the outside world.
Constantine P. Cavafy
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
"who built these walls? -- me," for starters.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Thursday, May 21, 2009
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
When making love with J one afternoon I was drawn to her nose. Slightly freckled, her white delicate skin, the narrow bridge just right for my lips to snuggle while I held her tightly some fifty years ago, still bright in my memory, my eyes open almost against her closed eyes, her breath now quieted of passion, her breasts slowly heaving against my chest, a low murmur of a moan of pleasure remembered as she pressed up against me. It was the first time we made love, and I wondered whether her sex would be covered with the same red hair on her head.
When making love with J one afternoon I was drawn to her nose. Slightly freckled, her white delicate skin, the narrow bridge just right for my lips to snuggle while I held her tightly some fifty years ago, still bright in my memory, my eyes open almost against her closed eyes, her breath now quieted of passion, her breasts slowly heaving against my chest, a low murmur of a moan of pleasure remembered as she pressed up against me. It was the first time we made love, and I wondered whether her sex would be covered with the same red hair on her head.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Thursday, May 14, 2009
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
She recalled being offended by the "phoniness" that stemmed from the contradiction between her mother's charming, even unctuous public manner and her anger in private.
-- Daniel Horowitz, Betty Friedan And the Making of 'The Feminine Mystique'
Sounds like my ex daughter-in-law to me.
She recalled being offended by the "phoniness" that stemmed from the contradiction between her mother's charming, even unctuous public manner and her anger in private.
-- Daniel Horowitz, Betty Friedan And the Making of 'The Feminine Mystique'
Sounds like my ex daughter-in-law to me.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
kairos
| kairos | tempus speciale /
occasio | kairos |
| kairos |
| The opportune occasion for speech. The term kairos has a rich and varied history, but generally refers to the way a given context for communication both calls for and constrains one's speech. Thus, sensitive to kairos, a speaker or writer takes into account the contingencies of a given place and time, and considers the opportunities within this specific context for words to be effective and appropriate to that moment. As such, this concept is tightly linked to considerations of audience (the most significant variable in a communicative context) and to decorum (the principle of apt speech). Rhetorical Analysis in terms of KAIROS: Rhetorical analysis of any sort begins with some orientation to the kairos. Whether or not a rhetorical critic employs the term kairos, he or she will examine the exigencies and constraints of place, time, culture, and audience that affect choices made by speakers and authors to influence that moment: Understand your audience. Craft your speech to them. Not to yourself.
|
Monday, May 11, 2009
Sunday, May 10, 2009
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
http://www.jasonhodge.net/?p=456
http://www.bevreview.com/2009/05/05/npr-all-things-considered-pepsi-mountain-dew-throwback/
The two links above take you to interesting articles about Pepsi putting out a sugar sweetened Pepsi and Mountain Dew -- as opposed to corn syrup sweetened.
I had written to Coke about this idea several years ago, but nothing came of my letter. I received a non-committal, lame reply that it was up to the individual bottlers.
There is a big difference in flavor and if you've tried Soho Cola you get an idea of what the difference might be were Coke and Pepsi to go back to sugar.
Now, if the sugar lobby were to fall asleep and the sugar tariff dropped by congress we might get permanently back to a better tasting product.
The Pespi product will be known as "Throwback" and will come in its own bottle --unfortunately not glass--but will be on the shelves only until June.
In the battle for shelf-space it's surprising that neither Coke nor Pepsi has already brought out a sugar sweetened SKI in glass. (At a premium price if nothing else.)
It reminds me of the auto-manufacturers thinking that the Beetle was a passing fancy and that the American Consumer would never buy a smaller car that looked funny.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Not only is today Mother's Day, but also May 10th would have been my mother's 107th Birthday. Happy Mother's Day to all and especially to my mother and the mother of my children, Beauty.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Buster
http://www.jasonhodge.net/?p=456
http://www.bevreview.com/2009/05/05/npr-all-things-considered-pepsi-mountain-dew-throwback/
The two links above take you to interesting articles about Pepsi putting out a sugar sweetened Pepsi and Mountain Dew -- as opposed to corn syrup sweetened.
I had written to Coke about this idea several years ago, but nothing came of my letter. I received a non-committal, lame reply that it was up to the individual bottlers.
There is a big difference in flavor and if you've tried Soho Cola you get an idea of what the difference might be were Coke and Pepsi to go back to sugar.
Now, if the sugar lobby were to fall asleep and the sugar tariff dropped by congress we might get permanently back to a better tasting product.
The Pespi product will be known as "Throwback" and will come in its own bottle --unfortunately not glass--but will be on the shelves only until June.
In the battle for shelf-space it's surprising that neither Coke nor Pepsi has already brought out a sugar sweetened SKI in glass. (At a premium price if nothing else.)
It reminds me of the auto-manufacturers thinking that the Beetle was a passing fancy and that the American Consumer would never buy a smaller car that looked funny.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Not only is today Mother's Day, but also May 10th would have been my mother's 107th Birthday. Happy Mother's Day to all and especially to my mother and the mother of my children, Beauty.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Buster
Saturday, May 09, 2009
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
Costco has it's own brand of plastic food wrap. It is a generic Saran Wrap. Saran Wrap drives me crazy because I can't get the roll to work properly. Most of the time I cannot get the size sheet that I need off the roll.
Somehow, Costco has solved the problem.
A wonderful 750 sq. ft. roll is packed in a box with a special cutter bar.
The plastic wrap easily rolls out of the box, the cutter bar is a slider that easily cuts exactly where I need it.
Whether more money or less money than Saran Wrap I would buy this product.
Try it! By itself, it's worth the membership fee.
This is my first product endorsement.
Costco has it's own brand of plastic food wrap. It is a generic Saran Wrap. Saran Wrap drives me crazy because I can't get the roll to work properly. Most of the time I cannot get the size sheet that I need off the roll.
Somehow, Costco has solved the problem.
A wonderful 750 sq. ft. roll is packed in a box with a special cutter bar.
The plastic wrap easily rolls out of the box, the cutter bar is a slider that easily cuts exactly where I need it.
Whether more money or less money than Saran Wrap I would buy this product.
Try it! By itself, it's worth the membership fee.
This is my first product endorsement.
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
Am I morbid?
Yes, I could be described as morbid. I dwell on the deaths of others, especially my friends, I read the obituaries of strangers and wonder about the lives those now dead.
I think about my dead friends and my dead parents and grandparents too often. I visit cemeteries and can spend hours reading the headstones of strangers. --and then I think about the lives those lying in their coffins had lead and what happened to their accomplishments.
I wonder about their descendants as well as their ancestors. I think about the graves visited (by whom?) and the graves unvisited.
If this be morbidity, I am morbid. Maudlin too.
Am I morbid?
Yes, I could be described as morbid. I dwell on the deaths of others, especially my friends, I read the obituaries of strangers and wonder about the lives those now dead.
I think about my dead friends and my dead parents and grandparents too often. I visit cemeteries and can spend hours reading the headstones of strangers. --and then I think about the lives those lying in their coffins had lead and what happened to their accomplishments.
I wonder about their descendants as well as their ancestors. I think about the graves visited (by whom?) and the graves unvisited.
If this be morbidity, I am morbid. Maudlin too.
Friday, May 08, 2009
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
Things someone I know lists about which I cannot disagree:
Things someone I know lists about which I cannot disagree:
- art. friends. M&Ms. horoscopes. ginger ale. magazines. swearing. reading. vintage. the rain. back dimples. jellyfish. coffee. stars. hugs and kisses. shows. laughing. polaroids. spontaneity. doodling. seashells. chicago. the number 63. fall. scarves. hand drawn illustrations. robots. tattoos. skulls. the color green. aquariums. pretty flowers. graphic design. british accents. fireworks. karma. marie antoinette. road trips. high fashion. messy hair. that moment when everything is just right.
Wednesday, May 06, 2009
Monday, May 04, 2009
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
P E R F E C T I O N W A S T E D
And another regrettable thing about death
is the ceasing of your own brand of magic,
which took a whole life to develop and market --
the quips, the witticisms, the slant
adjusted to a few, those loved ones nearest
the lip of the stage, the soft faces blanched
in the footlight glow, their laughter close to tears,
their tears confused with their diamond earrings,
their warm pooled breath in and out with your heartbeat,
their response and your performance twinned.
The jokes over the phone. The memories packed
in the rapid-access file. The whole act.
Who will do it again? That's it: No one;
imitators and descendants aren't the same.
...........................John Updike
is the ceasing of your own brand of magic,
which took a whole life to develop and market --
the quips, the witticisms, the slant
adjusted to a few, those loved ones nearest
the lip of the stage, the soft faces blanched
in the footlight glow, their laughter close to tears,
their tears confused with their diamond earrings,
their warm pooled breath in and out with your heartbeat,
their response and your performance twinned.
The jokes over the phone. The memories packed
in the rapid-access file. The whole act.
Who will do it again? That's it: No one;
imitators and descendants aren't the same.
...........................John Updike
Saturday, May 02, 2009
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
DALAI LAMA 2002 Werner Herzog interview
Q: what is your hope, vision for the world?
A: More prosperity for all
More equality
Less gap between rich and poor
An environment clean and pure
People truly like brothers & sisters
All religion carries the same message
Love
Compassion
Forgiveness
Tolerance
Contentment
Self-discipline
Whether believer of not, these are the requirements for a happy life.
DALAI LAMA 2002 Werner Herzog interview
Q: what is your hope, vision for the world?
A: More prosperity for all
More equality
Less gap between rich and poor
An environment clean and pure
People truly like brothers & sisters
All religion carries the same message
Love
Compassion
Forgiveness
Tolerance
Contentment
Self-discipline
Whether believer of not, these are the requirements for a happy life.
All major religious traditions carry basically the same message, that is love, compassion and forgiveness the important thing is they should be part of our daily lives.
Be kind whenever possible. It is always possible.
Happiness is not something ready made. It comes from your own actions.
I find hpe in the darkest of days, and focus in the brightest. I do not judge the universe.
If you can, help others; if you cannot do that, at least do not harm them.
If you have a particular faith or religion, that is good. But you can survive without it.
If you want others to be happy, practice compassion. If you want to be happy, practice compassion.
In the practice of tolerance, one's enemy is the best teacher.
It is necessary to help others, not only in our prayers, but in our daily lives. If we find we cannot help others, the least we can do is to desist from harming them.
It is very important to generate a good attitude, a good heart, as much as possible. From this, happiness in both the short term and the long term for both yourself and others will come.
Love and compassion are necessities, not luxuries. Without them humanity cannot survive.
My religion is very simple. My religion is kindness.
Old friends pass away, new friends appear. It is just like the days. An old day passes, a new day arrives. The important thing is to make it meaningful: a meaningful friend - or a meaningful day.
Our prime purpose in this life is to help others. And if you can't help them, at least don't hurt them.
Sleep is the best meditation.
Sometimes one creates a dynamic impression by saying something, and sometimes one creates as significant an impression by remaining silent.
The purpose of our lives is to be happy.
The roots of all goodness lie in the soil of appreciation for goodness.
The ultimate authority must always rest with the individual's own reason and critical analysis.
There is no need for temples, no need for complicated philosophies. My brain and my heart are my temples; my philosophy is kindness.
Dalai Lama
Be kind whenever possible. It is always possible.
Happiness is not something ready made. It comes from your own actions.
I find hpe in the darkest of days, and focus in the brightest. I do not judge the universe.
If you can, help others; if you cannot do that, at least do not harm them.
If you have a particular faith or religion, that is good. But you can survive without it.
If you want others to be happy, practice compassion. If you want to be happy, practice compassion.
In the practice of tolerance, one's enemy is the best teacher.
It is necessary to help others, not only in our prayers, but in our daily lives. If we find we cannot help others, the least we can do is to desist from harming them.
It is very important to generate a good attitude, a good heart, as much as possible. From this, happiness in both the short term and the long term for both yourself and others will come.
Love and compassion are necessities, not luxuries. Without them humanity cannot survive.
My religion is very simple. My religion is kindness.
Old friends pass away, new friends appear. It is just like the days. An old day passes, a new day arrives. The important thing is to make it meaningful: a meaningful friend - or a meaningful day.
Our prime purpose in this life is to help others. And if you can't help them, at least don't hurt them.
Sleep is the best meditation.
Sometimes one creates a dynamic impression by saying something, and sometimes one creates as significant an impression by remaining silent.
The purpose of our lives is to be happy.
The roots of all goodness lie in the soil of appreciation for goodness.
The ultimate authority must always rest with the individual's own reason and critical analysis.
There is no need for temples, no need for complicated philosophies. My brain and my heart are my temples; my philosophy is kindness.
Dalai Lama
Friday, May 01, 2009
Sunday, April 26, 2009
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
Dear Mel:
Shane's Dad wrote my Father's and Mother's will. His Dad put up with my mother's constant changes of her desire for the disposition of her ashes and her jewelry. "Now here, then there, but maybe over there too, and could they be divided?," a series of changes that went on for years. Mother finally decided on the fourteenth hole at Oak Mountain, because "Patti always has trouble on that hole," and if her ashes were there mother expected that it would help Patti's game. Luckily I don't play and if I had played, it would have destroyed my game, not helped it, but Mother had strange and wonderful ways of thinking. -- I wonder whether you ever met her.
I always wondered whether she intended to help or really to hurt her. You know the competition that goes on between so many mothers and daughters--after all, they both love the same man.
He didn't charge for close to a one hour consultation. He didn't feel that she had a case and told her so. That is unlike some lawyers who might have started a useless, but expensive, case.
I don't think that you will go wrong consulting with him.
His office is across the street from our apartment...
"Uncle"
mek
Dear Mel:
Shane's Dad wrote my Father's and Mother's will. His Dad put up with my mother's constant changes of her desire for the disposition of her ashes and her jewelry. "Now here, then there, but maybe over there too, and could they be divided?," a series of changes that went on for years. Mother finally decided on the fourteenth hole at Oak Mountain, because "Patti always has trouble on that hole," and if her ashes were there mother expected that it would help Patti's game. Luckily I don't play and if I had played, it would have destroyed my game, not helped it, but Mother had strange and wonderful ways of thinking. -- I wonder whether you ever met her.
I always wondered whether she intended to help or really to hurt her. You know the competition that goes on between so many mothers and daughters--after all, they both love the same man.
Coincidently, I met Shane last week with a friend who had some estate trouble. He was very kind, has a sense of humor, and seems very knowledgeable.. . I like that: 'educated plus experience.'
He didn't charge for close to a one hour consultation. He didn't feel that she had a case and told her so. That is unlike some lawyers who might have started a useless, but expensive, case.
I don't think that you will go wrong consulting with him.
His office is across the street from our apartment...
"Uncle"
mek
Saturday, April 25, 2009
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
When I saw Tyson fight in his younger days, even before he became Heavyweight Champion of the World, when there was only one Heavyweight Champ, I thought that no one would beat him until he would be in his late thirties. I thought he was the only champ who would beat Joe Louis' record 12 year reign...
To me he was furious, the fiercest, most fearsome boxer that I had ever seen. I wanted to check his gloves for the horseshoes that must have been there.
(My father, the real expert, an amateur boxer in his lightweight days, and a real fan, and, further, unlike me, a man who had actually seen fights in person since his short pants days, did not agree -- but he was wrong -- the only time.) --
Dad gave the tip of his hat to Joe Louis, Muhammad Ali, and Rocky Marciano. -- and he wasn't sure about Ali. (But, as I said, he was wrong...)
And then I heard Tyson on the radio with Joyce Carol Oates ( a boxing fan who had written a non-fiction book called "On Boxing," and the "Amazin' Bill Mazer, a man with total recall, who knew everything there was to know about every fighter going back and probably beyond barefisted days, beyond Sullivan, Fitzsimmons and Corbett.
But Mike Tyson, the lispy kid fighter, from Brownsville, who owned the Undisputed World's Heavyweight Championship, was right up there with the Amazin' One, and with Joyce Carol Oates, holding his own in the kind of conversation that Norman Mailer had with Jose Torres, Pete Hamill, and Budd Schulberg.
From that moment on I became a Tyson fan, and his unexpected, shocking downfall has been a twenty year disappointment to me.
The movie opens only in NYC and LA, so you lucky ones who live there should go to see it no matter what you think of Mike The Tragic Tyson. We can all learn, even at this age, from our fallen idols. (Well, Joyce, you're not up there with the rest of us, but you will be.)
mek
Here's something I wrote 12 months ago:
Other important matters: recently a book on boxing was written in England. Joyce Carol Oates reviewed it in the New York Review and she mentioned something similar. You may not be aware of this but Oates is an expert on boxing and a fan. I heard her several years ago, with supralapsarian Mike Tyson (also an authority on the history of boxing) and the Amazin' Mazur, a sports announcer with an encyclopedic memory. She fit right in. And Tyson was pretty good too!
This is Oates writing:
"The symbolism of boxing does not allow for ambiguity: it is as middleweight Albert Camus put it, 'utterly Manichean.' The rites of boxing 'simplify' everything. Good and evil, the winner and the loser. "
Later she writes,: Here's "a quote attributed to Sonny Liston: ' It's always the same story--the good guy verses the bad guy.' "
What strikes me here is not so much that Camus and Liston arrive at the same conclusion, but rather that Liston's expression is so perfect, so succinct. The simple use of the five cent word instead of the two dollar word.
Tyson, the documentary is a new film:
When I saw Tyson fight in his younger days, even before he became Heavyweight Champion of the World, when there was only one Heavyweight Champ, I thought that no one would beat him until he would be in his late thirties. I thought he was the only champ who would beat Joe Louis' record 12 year reign...
To me he was furious, the fiercest, most fearsome boxer that I had ever seen. I wanted to check his gloves for the horseshoes that must have been there.
(My father, the real expert, an amateur boxer in his lightweight days, and a real fan, and, further, unlike me, a man who had actually seen fights in person since his short pants days, did not agree -- but he was wrong -- the only time.) --
Dad gave the tip of his hat to Joe Louis, Muhammad Ali, and Rocky Marciano. -- and he wasn't sure about Ali. (But, as I said, he was wrong...)
And then I heard Tyson on the radio with Joyce Carol Oates ( a boxing fan who had written a non-fiction book called "On Boxing," and the "Amazin' Bill Mazer, a man with total recall, who knew everything there was to know about every fighter going back and probably beyond barefisted days, beyond Sullivan, Fitzsimmons and Corbett.
But Mike Tyson, the lispy kid fighter, from Brownsville, who owned the Undisputed World's Heavyweight Championship, was right up there with the Amazin' One, and with Joyce Carol Oates, holding his own in the kind of conversation that Norman Mailer had with Jose Torres, Pete Hamill, and Budd Schulberg.
From that moment on I became a Tyson fan, and his unexpected, shocking downfall has been a twenty year disappointment to me.
The movie opens only in NYC and LA, so you lucky ones who live there should go to see it no matter what you think of Mike The Tragic Tyson. We can all learn, even at this age, from our fallen idols. (Well, Joyce, you're not up there with the rest of us, but you will be.)
mek
Here's something I wrote 12 months ago:
Other important matters: recently a book on boxing was written in England. Joyce Carol Oates reviewed it in the New York Review and she mentioned something similar. You may not be aware of this but Oates is an expert on boxing and a fan. I heard her several years ago, with supralapsarian Mike Tyson (also an authority on the history of boxing) and the Amazin' Mazur, a sports announcer with an encyclopedic memory. She fit right in. And Tyson was pretty good too!
This is Oates writing:
"The symbolism of boxing does not allow for ambiguity: it is as middleweight Albert Camus put it, 'utterly Manichean.' The rites of boxing 'simplify' everything. Good and evil, the winner and the loser. "
Later she writes,: Here's "a quote attributed to Sonny Liston: ' It's always the same story--the good guy verses the bad guy.' "
What strikes me here is not so much that Camus and Liston arrive at the same conclusion, but rather that Liston's expression is so perfect, so succinct. The simple use of the five cent word instead of the two dollar word.
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
IRONY
Anagram for Consumer Reports
"More Corruptness"
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
__________________________________________________________________
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
__________________________________________________________________
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
Letter to Basil:
When I was about thirty-five or so I went to the cemetery to visit the graves of my grandfather and several other relatives who are buried in a landsman section of Mt. Hebron in Flushing. Our site is a nice one, on a hill facing Flushing Meadow Park, the lake, and in the distance the city can be seen. There are about twenty-five Katz' buried there.
I arrived at the cemetery and had a map, the location marked by Section, Row and Grave Number, but Mt. Hebron is very large and I had difficulty finding the site. A man, bearded and hatted -- I assumed a religious man -- approached me and offered to lead me to the site. How nice, I thought, and I followed him through the high grass and down the road, across a tiny bridge, and then up a little hillside to the site. I "introduced" him to my Great-Grandfather, Abraham and his wife, Zipporah; and my grandfather, Aaron, and his wife, Masha; and my Uncle Max and Aunt Sylvia; and all the cousins and aunts and uncles, most of whom I had never met in life, but had "met" and learned about them, at their gravesides at Mt. Hebron.
As we spoke I came to understand that he was a professional mourner -- I had seen them before but none had ever approached my father or me when we went to the cemetery together, because the only times we ever went to Mt. Hebron were for someone's funeral, and of course, there were plenty of rabbis and mourners at those funerals, which were a family gathering of sort, and which paradoxically were usually almost pleasant affairs, as we would bury one of the cousins, who invariably would have been in their nineties and each of whom had lived fruitful and eventful lives. Even the black sheep of the family, Bernie Shatskin, a lawyer, who anticipated the machinations of Bernie Madoff is buried there, and, I guess forgiven all his sins.
The man, by now my good friend, suggested that I might like to say Kaddish for my grandparents and uncle and aunt. I understood that a gratuity would be expected and agreed that Kaddish would be a good idea. He offered me a yarmulke and I put it on so that he would begin. As he got into the prayers and then the Kaddish I was overwhelmed by a deep sadness for all that had been lost, for the history of the Katz', for the thousand years of struggle that had led us to America and then without gratitude we had given up our heritage, given up our birthright, like Jacob, and then we had given up all of our millenniums of Jewish heritage .
I began to sob uncontrollably, I wasn't able to catch my breath, I could think only of my ancestors wandering from the East and finding themselves in the frozen waste of Russia, but carrying with them all of the traditions of the Jews, within the struggle, the pogroms, and I cried, choking on my inability to breathe. I noticed that my friend, the mourner was standing by me, patiently waiting, and I thought that he was so wonderful, standing by me, making sure that I wouldn't have a heart attack and die right on the spot, right atop my grandfather's grave, and that this man, previously a stranger to me, was waiting, watching over me, making sure that would be okay -- and then I remembered the honorarium and without a sound I stuffed a ten dollar bill into his hand, but he waited again, just standing beside me, and I couldn't talk, my throat constricted, my tongue swollen in my mouth, without speech and he, this angel in disguise, was still standing, silent beside me...what a wonderful man, I thought.
Finally, after more time, he did speak-- "Mister," he said, "Mister, could I have mine yarmulke?"
mek
Reply from Basil:
I understand what you felt Mike, but I do not have those feelings
myself. In any case, not about the history of my family up to and
including my parents. I just don't connect. But that does not mean I
don't have similar feelings.
When my grandmother died we had the funeral at the Riverside Chapel in
Brooklyn which I'm sure you know of. What I knew was that my grandmother
had made a friend of a man at the old age home she was staying at. This
man was a cantor in his earlier life and demanded that he sing kaddish
for my grandmother.
We had never met him before and when he showed up we
were astonished at his appearance. He was in his seventies. His hair was
died black. His eyebrows were plucked and penciled. His cheeks were
rouged. He wore a dark cloak. He was obviously not gay. He was as much a
performer as a cantor.
If his appearance was astonishing his voice was
even more so. His singing voice was more of a harsh croaking even though
every Hebrew word of kaddish was understandable. It was as if he was
singing not only for my grandmother but for every Jew who ever died. The
power in his singing was enormous. For that I could not hold back the
tears and I couldn't understand why I was crying.
Letter to Basil:
When I was about thirty-five or so I went to the cemetery to visit the graves of my grandfather and several other relatives who are buried in a landsman section of Mt. Hebron in Flushing. Our site is a nice one, on a hill facing Flushing Meadow Park, the lake, and in the distance the city can be seen. There are about twenty-five Katz' buried there.
I arrived at the cemetery and had a map, the location marked by Section, Row and Grave Number, but Mt. Hebron is very large and I had difficulty finding the site. A man, bearded and hatted -- I assumed a religious man -- approached me and offered to lead me to the site. How nice, I thought, and I followed him through the high grass and down the road, across a tiny bridge, and then up a little hillside to the site. I "introduced" him to my Great-Grandfather, Abraham and his wife, Zipporah; and my grandfather, Aaron, and his wife, Masha; and my Uncle Max and Aunt Sylvia; and all the cousins and aunts and uncles, most of whom I had never met in life, but had "met" and learned about them, at their gravesides at Mt. Hebron.
As we spoke I came to understand that he was a professional mourner -- I had seen them before but none had ever approached my father or me when we went to the cemetery together, because the only times we ever went to Mt. Hebron were for someone's funeral, and of course, there were plenty of rabbis and mourners at those funerals, which were a family gathering of sort, and which paradoxically were usually almost pleasant affairs, as we would bury one of the cousins, who invariably would have been in their nineties and each of whom had lived fruitful and eventful lives. Even the black sheep of the family, Bernie Shatskin, a lawyer, who anticipated the machinations of Bernie Madoff is buried there, and, I guess forgiven all his sins.
The man, by now my good friend, suggested that I might like to say Kaddish for my grandparents and uncle and aunt. I understood that a gratuity would be expected and agreed that Kaddish would be a good idea. He offered me a yarmulke and I put it on so that he would begin. As he got into the prayers and then the Kaddish I was overwhelmed by a deep sadness for all that had been lost, for the history of the Katz', for the thousand years of struggle that had led us to America and then without gratitude we had given up our heritage, given up our birthright, like Jacob, and then we had given up all of our millenniums of Jewish heritage .
I began to sob uncontrollably, I wasn't able to catch my breath, I could think only of my ancestors wandering from the East and finding themselves in the frozen waste of Russia, but carrying with them all of the traditions of the Jews, within the struggle, the pogroms, and I cried, choking on my inability to breathe. I noticed that my friend, the mourner was standing by me, patiently waiting, and I thought that he was so wonderful, standing by me, making sure that I wouldn't have a heart attack and die right on the spot, right atop my grandfather's grave, and that this man, previously a stranger to me, was waiting, watching over me, making sure that would be okay -- and then I remembered the honorarium and without a sound I stuffed a ten dollar bill into his hand, but he waited again, just standing beside me, and I couldn't talk, my throat constricted, my tongue swollen in my mouth, without speech and he, this angel in disguise, was still standing, silent beside me...what a wonderful man, I thought.
Finally, after more time, he did speak-- "Mister," he said, "Mister, could I have mine yarmulke?"
mek
Reply from Basil:
I understand what you felt Mike, but I do not have those feelings
myself. In any case, not about the history of my family up to and
including my parents. I just don't connect. But that does not mean I
don't have similar feelings.
When my grandmother died we had the funeral at the Riverside Chapel in
Brooklyn which I'm sure you know of. What I knew was that my grandmother
had made a friend of a man at the old age home she was staying at. This
man was a cantor in his earlier life and demanded that he sing kaddish
for my grandmother.
We had never met him before and when he showed up we
were astonished at his appearance. He was in his seventies. His hair was
died black. His eyebrows were plucked and penciled. His cheeks were
rouged. He wore a dark cloak. He was obviously not gay. He was as much a
performer as a cantor.
If his appearance was astonishing his voice was
even more so. His singing voice was more of a harsh croaking even though
every Hebrew word of kaddish was understandable. It was as if he was
singing not only for my grandmother but for every Jew who ever died. The
power in his singing was enormous. For that I could not hold back the
tears and I couldn't understand why I was crying.
Monday, April 20, 2009
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)