New Year’s Eve 2011: looking backward

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Here we are, standing in the ashes of another year.  How the hell did 2011 pass so quickly?

 

 

The years all begin to look alike, after you’ve seen fifty or so of them.  It took me a minute to recollect the notable / memorable things that happened this year:

 

 

        Partner and I took some nice trips, twice to Cape Cod and once to Orlando (Disney / Universal, naturally).

        We got through the year without serious illness or injury (not counting some violent viral episodes, and Partner’s little muscle sprain in November).

        People passed away.  My uncle Sonny passed away in the Northwest.  A friend’s husband passed away after a long illness.  The husband of another friend passed away, after a similarly long illness.  My old boss Sharon, for whom I worked in the late 1980s and who was my colleague, neighbor and friend after that time, passed away suddenly in November.

        I managed to keep track of the people who matter: my old college friend George, my old work friend Patricia who now lives in the wild country of northwestern Massachusetts, my old work friend Sylvia who works in the wild country down around the Rhode Island School of Design.

 

 

 

Partner and I have a little tradition: just before midnight on New Year’s Eve, we get together and hold hands so that we’re together when the new year begins.  And we both make a sincere wish that, a year from now, we will still be together, doing exactly the same thing.

 

 

It’s worked pretty well so far. 

 

 

I’m sure we’ll be doing it again this evening.

 

 

And, I hope, a year from now too.

 

 

Happy New Year’s Eve, kids.


 

Burning down the school

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I do not make efficient use of Facebook, I think; I just sort of mooch around and look at this and that.  I only have about thirty friends, which (my student employees tell me) is completely pathetic.

 

 

The other day I was looking through my various Facebook affiliations, and I noticed that, a long time ago, I’d joined a group called “Battle Ground High School Alumni.”  I looked in, and learned that –

 

 

That they just burned down my old elementary school.

 

 

It was on purpose.  The school was an old building, very dilapidated, and completely unused for a number of years.  All the local fire departments got together and used it, this past December 10, for a training exercise.  

 

 

Why am I so strangely saddened by this?

 

 

I remember the building vividly.  I remember how enormous the front steps seemed to me, and how vast the playground; I remember lining up two by two to go to recess and to come back inside, and I remember buying little red tickets for two cents each, to redeem for half-pint cartons of milk.  I remember Miss Plowman, and Miss Marvin, and Mister Ellertson.  (All of these memories are drenched in bright sunlight, for some reason, which seems odd, considering that it rains a lot in Battle Ground.  Could it be that my memory isn’t perfectly accurate?  Hmm.)

 

 

Back in 2008, Partner and I walked through Battle Ground one quiet afternoon and explored the school grounds.  The building was there – see above picture (drenched in bright sunlight) – but it was so small!  It was much bigger when I was a kid.  We played on the swings for a while (I will spare you those photos), and I took pictures and felt somehow comforted that this small piece of my childhood still remained.

 

 

And now it’s gone. 

 

 

The first house I lived in as a child was torn down years ago.  The other house I lived in was sold in 2000, and has been so completely renovated that, even on Google Earth, it’s almost unrecognizable.  Partner’s childhood home was sold a few years ago.  The restaurant in which Partner and I shared our first dinner burned down in 2006.

 

 

From the Buddha’s Fire Sermon:

 

 

“Monks, everything is burning. Burning with what? Burning with the fire of passion, the fire of aversion, the fire of delusion. Burning, I tell you, with birth, aging and death, with sorrows, lamentations, pains, distresses, and despairs.

 


“Seeing this, the disciple grows disenchanted with the eye, the ear, the nose, the tongue, the body, disenchanted with tactile sensations, disenchanted with consciousness at the body, disenchanted with contact at the body. He grows disenchanted with the intellect, disenchanted with ideas, disenchanted with consciousness at the intellect, disenchanted with contact at the intellect.

 


“Disenchanted, he becomes dispassionate. Through dispassion, he discerns that ‘Birth is depleted, the holy life fulfilled, the task done. There is nothing further for this world.’ “ 

 

 

So there is a lesson here.

 

 

But it is a painful one.

 

 

Goodbye, school.

 


 

 

All my (useless) gadgets

Electronic_waste


I have a box – no, two boxes – of cords and connections belonging to various computing devices. 

 

 

The devices themselves are long gone.

 

 

How does this happen?

 

 

Last year I bought a cheap ($40) Kobo Literati e-reader at Bed Bath & Beyond.  I liked it, but it was slow and balky.  Barnes & Noble had an online sale for reconditioned Nooks, so I bought one ($80), and loved it, until it started acting wonky.  Then, a few months ago, my office granted me an iPad, and the Nook joined the Literati on the unused-gadget shelf.

 

 

Goodbye and good luck, my one hundred and twenty dollars.

 

 

I’ve always been very conscientious about backing up my computer. Some years ago I heard of this great new backup system: the Jazz drive.  I bought one on eBay, for maybe $40, and a bunch of Jazz disks (which are like cassettes on steroids) for maybe $25.  I used it probably four times.  It was clunky and noisy and difficult to set up.  I now own a smooth little candy-bar sized storage device that plugs into my laptop with a USB connection, and which slurps up all my data effortlessly.

 

 

Another sixty-five bucks down the tube.

 

 

I could go on forever.  I am too cheap to buy a proper iPod, so I have purchased at least three cheap imitations, none of which works right, total cost (estimated) sixty bucks.  Then there was the reconditioned laptop, which was wonderful and lasted for about a year, until it actually had a nervous breakdown, complete with beeping and booping sound effects.  Two hundred dollars down the drain.  (Moral, if you haven’t been keeping track: don’t buy reconditioned items.)  The next laptop lasted quite a while – four years, maybe – but it became painfully slow and difficult to use during its last year of active service.  It was around four hundred bucks, I think.

 

 

(My current Dell Inspiron laptop also cost around four hundred bucks; I think I bought it in early 2009, and it is going strong almost three years later.  It has some quirks – it often refuses to recharge its battery – but it is light and easy to use, and I am partial to it.  I had a whirlwind love affair with the iPad when I first got it a few months ago, but – as someone online wisely stated not long ago – the iPad is not a laptop.  Laptops are far more powerful and speedier, and much easier to use for word processing (it is not pleasant to type on a smooth glass surface).  I just bought one of those fancy iPad cases with a built-in Bluetooth keyboard, which makes it a bit nicer to use, but iPads are mostly for travel, I think: it was a godsend on our last two trips, to Orlando and to Cape Cod.  At home, my laptop is (as Eloise said of Nanny) my mostly companion.

 

 

But I still visualize all that money flown out the window, for all those lovely glittering gadgets I bought, thinking they would change my life. 

 

 

A few of them did. 

 

 

But I should have chosen more carefully. 

 

 

Let’s face it.  I’m an idiot.


 

Christmas: the light and the dark

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Simon Schama, the British historian, wrote a nice piece in last weekend’s Financial Times about Christmas and Hanukkah.  Some years back, he took heat for daring to comment that the emphasis on lights in Christmas (all those twinkly bulbs on the tree!) and Hanukkah (all those candles!) was just a holdover from the very traditional celebration of light at the Solstice. 

 

 

Hm.  Is there really any doubt about this?

 

 

Anyway: he repeated a very nice Mishnah story I’d never heard.   In it, Adam was very grieved by the onset of the first winter, realizing that he’d caused it himself, and fasted for eight days, right before the Solstice.  When he realized that the days were getting longer again, he rejoiced for eight days.

 

 

Partner asked me about the timings of sunset and sunrise around the Solstice the other day, so I resorted to Wikipedia.  Do you know how many cultures observe the Solstice?  Pretty much all of them.  And it’s always about light, one way or another

 

 

Okay. Now let’s talk about Christmas tragedies.

 

 

This year alone:

 

 

        A house burned down in Stamford, Connecticut, killing five people.

        A man – dressed as Santa, yet – came into an Grapevine, Texas house and shot six family members, and then shot himself.

 

 

Remember the Banda Aceh tidal wave in 2004?

 

 

Remember the 2003 earthquake in Iran?

 

 

Well – what of it?  Bad things happen all the time.  There’s no reason that they shouldn’t happen now.

 

 

Except that they seem especially painful now, this time of year.

 

 

It’s the darkest time of year.  The darkness is winning, and we desperately want to see the light triumphant. When we see bad things happen, it’s as if we can actually feel the struggle between light and darkness.  And we do not want the darkness to win.

 

 

The only exceptional event that I’ve listed above is the man in the Santa suit who killed his family members on Xmas.  It makes you think about the expectations of families on Christmas – the desperate effort to believe that everything will be all right – and that these unrealistic expectations might be enough for make someone snap and kill his family.

 

 

That’s a special kind of madness, especially horrible.  I tried to think about what it would be like to see a family member in a Santa suit come into the room toting a shotgun, and –

 

 

Enough.

 

 

Let the darkness go.  The days are getting longer again.

 

 

As I’ve said once before in this space: hail the Unconquered Sun!

 


 

A fine secular Christmas

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Neither Partner nor I practices any particular religion.  I spent a couple of years in the mid-2000s trying to recapture my Catholicism, but found it ultimately futile.  Partner and I talk about Buddhism a lot, but I am uneasily aware that Buddhism is easier to talk about than practice.  (For those of you who use “Zen” as an adjective, I recommend a wonderful and very acerbic book called “What Makes You Not A Buddhist,” by a wonderful Bhutanese lama / film director / author (!) named Dzongsar Jamyang Khyentse.)

 

 

So how did Partner and I, both filthy heathens, spend this Christmas season?

 

 

Let’s see:

 

 

        We saw “The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo” on Christmas Eve.

        We exchanged gifts.  Partner gave me a lovely sweater and two lovely shirts.  I like pretty colors, but am often confused by the bright lights in the department stores; Partner corrects my fashion sense, and I invariably get compliments when I wear the things he’s bought for me (so long as I wear them in the combinations he very carefully specifies).  I gave him, among other things, a mounted 1957 one-dollar Silver Certificate.  (I was born in 1957, before the Space Age, so it was a little symbolic.)

        Next morning, we sleepily wished each other a Merry Christmas.

        After some discussion, we went to the closest casino, Twin River, in Lincoln, Rhode Island.

        We left at 1:00 pm with considerably more money than we arrived with.  Merry Christmas!

        We went to a Chinese restaurant and ordered everything on the menu. 

        We ate until we were sick.

        We took our leftovers and went home and napped a bit.

        In the evening, I baked cookies.

 

 

This is the perfect secular Xmas, as far as I’m concerned.  And here’s why:

 

 

 

        We both spent it with someone we loved.

 

 

 

And that’s all it takes.

 

 

Happy holidays, kids.

 


 

For Hanukkah: Jewish superheroes

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Speaking as a Gentile, of all the Jewish holidays, I like Hanukkah best.

 

 

Fine, it’s not a High Holiday, it’s an observance.  The gifts are bush-league: chocolate coins, colorful pencils.  Maybe, if you’re lucky, you get a shirt and pants.  But the candles are pretty.  And it’s eight days long.  And who doesn’t like potato pancakes?  Or playing dreidel?

 

 

But I was especially amused to find the above image on Tumblr recently.

 

 

Evidently Ben Grimm – the everlovin’ blue-eyed Thing from Marvel Comics – is Jewish!  

 

 

I love the yarmulke, and the prayer shawl, and most especially the big smile, and most most most especially the fact that this was drawn by classic Marvel artist Jack Kirby (born Jacob Kurtzberg).


 

I like the idea of Jewish superheroes.  They’re fictional characters right alongside Miss Elizabeth Bennett and Artur Sammler and Genji, so why not?  I looked online, and found that Doc Samson (who’s a sort of semi-Hulk in the Marvel universe) and Volcana (a heroine/villainess in the Marvel world) are both Jewish, as are a few others.  (Evidently the DC universe is non-denominational.  Although I would not be surprised to discover that the Kents brought up Clark as a Methodist.)

 

 

A Kuwaiti Muslim writer named Naif al-Mutawa has, for the past few years, been developing a line of Muslim comics called “The 99.”  The backstory is that a group of Medieval Muslim thinkers / philosophers / clerics harnessed the energy of the 99 names of Allah, but a villain tried to absorb all the power himself; he mostly failed, but the energy of the 99 names went out into the world, and has been absorbed by 99 other people.  One by one they come forward: The Light, The Powerful, The Listener, the Healer, the Destroyer.

 

 

I like this too.

 

 

We still love mythology, don’t we?  And superheroes are the playactors in our modern versions of those miracle stories and myths.  Did you notice, in last summer’s “Thor,” that the title character died to save his friends, and came back to life?   And I seem to recall the very same thing happening in 2006’s “Superman Returns.”  And think of all the angst and cosmic love triangles in the various X-Men stories –

 

 

Enough.

 

 

Cosmic drama and resurrection are terrific things, but sometimes it’s nicer to have candles and potato pancakes and chocolate money.

 

 

Gut yontif, Ben Grimm, wherever you are.

 


 

For Christmas: Sus, pastoureu di mountagno

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Even as a nonbeliever, I like Christmas carols.  (As Lisa Simpson, the vegetarian, said once about meat: “Hey, I still like the smell.”)  I like unusual carols, and especially folk carols that have a whiff of pagandom about them.

This tune is from the early 17th century, from Avignon in southern France.  It’s in Provencal, so don’t worry if you can’t make out the lyrics.  It’s the story of the shepherds hurrying off to the stable to see Mary and the baby Jesus.  (The title means “Get up, shepherd of the mountains!”)

I especially like this one because it has a tongue-twister refrain.  It took me years to get it right.

All together now:

Aro lo bon Jesu, lo bon Jesu, lo bon Jesu,
Aro lo bon Jesu d’una vierge nous es na.

(Now the good Jesus, etc.,
 now the good Jesus to a virgin is born unto us.)

Merry Christmas, and may we all meet in heaven, if there’s such a place.  

I don’t really believe it, but it would be lovely.

Sus_pastores.mp3 Listen on Posterous


 

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