I am among the guilty.
Today’s New York Times story “The Rise of Shrinking-Vacation Syndrome” cites a startling statistic: “40 percent of consumers had no plans to take a vacation over the next six months—the lowest percentage recorded by the [Conference Board] in 28 years”. A May Gallup poll found that 43 percent of Americans planned no summer vacation. I’m among them.
For months, I’ve been meaning to blog about a New York Times story from—get this—February. But I wanted to include a self-portrait of my wife, which meant scanning and that was something I never seemed to get around to. Until today, while we waited on Bun Bun; she was sick and with the local vet.
The Times story, “Here I Am Taking My Own Picture“, is a hoot.
Today would have been my mother-in-law’s 86th birthday, if she were alive. She died about 10 years ago, while my family was on 18-month hiatus back home in Northern Maine.
My wife wanted to celebrate, in part, because not enough birthdays were spent together. I saw the small remembrance as opportunity to express continuity of the generations to our daughter. My daughter never met her older grandmother (my mom—the younger grandma—is 64, but, sssh, don’t tell her I said so).
Yesterday, I wore my Alienware T-Shirt, with the company’s logo on the front—an alien, of course. For some reason, I got several questions about it. So I said: “Well, this is my illegal alien. He’s afraid of getting sent back to his home planet, and I’m protesting with him.”
There’s truth to what I said. I’m unfavorable to the hardline US legislators are taking with this immigration bill. I just don’t see turning all these immigrants into criminals, or turning them away. As one of the sixth graders pointed out today in the Sunday school class I teach, most Americans are immigrants. And to the Native Americans here 400 hundred years ago, the off-continent settlers were the illegals and, as it turned out, invaders, too.
The New York Times looks at the prosecution of midwives in Indiana, where only doctors and nurses can legally assist births. I believe the same may hold true in Maryland, where we used a licensed midwife-nurse for our daughter’s birth.
Midwifery certainly predates any law governing the practice or the modern-day practice of hospital deliveries. This doctor-hospital thing is a fairly recent practice, while midwives have been birthing babies for millennia.
Two Saturdays ago, the family hauled off to Tysons Corner Center, so that my wife could shop at the New Balance store and my daughter at the Sketchers there. On a giant flat-panel monitor at the back of the Sketchers played Live 8, particularly Richard Ashcroft’s performance, with Coldplay, of The Verve staple “Bittersweet Symphony”.
The performance stuck with me, as did vague memories of Live 8, which I mostly missed. I certainly shouldn’t have overlooked the concert as much as I did. During summer 2005, I struggled through some logistical problems at work, which greatly distracted from many things that should have been greater priority. Events like Live 8 come `round maybe once in 20 years, if Live AID is any indication.
Tomorrow work resumes for lots of folks, following the great Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa holiday. I blew off a bunch of vacation days during the holiday so that I wouldn’t lose them. Turns out, I needed the time off, and more. No doubt, other folks could say the same.
It’s 2006, but I’m living in the past. My calendar says December 2005 because I have yet to find a replacement. New calendars will be gone soon, now typically discounted to 50 percent. For years, I bought the Hansen Planetarium “Wonders of the Universe” calendar, but it stopped publication couple years back. Before the Web really took off, I subscribed by U.S. mail to the planetarium’s “Sky Watch” newsletter. I have yet to find a good replacement for “Wonders of the Universe.” Someone gave me the 2005 calendar that’s still on my wall, of Canadian provinces, in English and French.
I am fascinated by marketing and how it is filtered through culture. This morning, I clicked through to a news story from Express India, for which RSS feed I subscribe. A banner ad for Indian matrimonial site Shaadi.com piqued my interest, because of its emphasis on matchmaking. There are similar services in the U.S., but they—even match.com—focus on dating or personal ads.
Shaadi.com’s marketing pitch is about finding the right match, utilizing the company’s eMatchmaker technology. The service’s focus isn’t about dating, but I would be shocked if the technology turned out to be dramatically different from other “singles” services.
As a Cusper, I share some Baby Boomer values, although I shun most of them. However, I am drawn to some of the Boomer idealism, granted with pragmatic bent. And I’m still pretty idealistic, even in my, uh hum, forties.
The World Wide Web appealed to me because of my idealism, and the belief that the vast communications network would empower the masses.
When I was in fourth grade, my parents both had jobs—a novelty in Northern Maine during the late 1960s but start of a national trend. Dad worked as a supervisor at the food processing plant and mom was night manager at a local hotel/motel. Financially, those were good years, when both my parents generated income. My mother would later lose her position, after the elegant facility burned down under mysterious circumstances. But that’s another story.
Christmas Eve, when my three younger sisters and I could open one present, I hardly could contain my want. Actually, I couldn’t contain it. My parents had gone out to food shop, preparation for feast as part of a spectacularly planned Christmas Day. They could afford to spend more on us that year than ever. Quite excited were they to give to their kids.
My wife hauls me off to church every Sunday (and that’s not a bad thing). I teach Sunday school, which gets me out of the service. But last week, older kids organized a scavenger hunt for fourth through sixth graders (I teach the middleschoolers), so I had opportunity to sit in the service. Lucky, too.
The pastor announced she would step down at the end of December. After two-and-a-half years, she felt it was time to make room for new blood and a new way of doing things. I thought: “This is how it’s supposed to be”.
Ladies, please substitute woman where appropriate.
I’m sure Rudyard wouldn’t mind.