All posts by Dale Connelly

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Pleased to Meet You

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Now that the Iowa’s over promoted Straw Poll has ended, there are truckloads of national political horserace reporters available for temporary re-assignment. Perhaps that’s why President Obama met the hoard more than halfway, starting his Midwest tour at a point conveniently between Ames and the Minneapolis airport.

While the approval rating handicappers and political spinners tried to deduce the nation’s mood from the interaction between the chief executive and 500 or so Cannon Fallsters, ordinary people can be forgiven for their genuine excitement at seeing the President of the United States (POTUS), whether they support his policies or not.

Ben Rutter, a 19-year-old college student from Cannon Falls, told the Worthington Daily Globe that getting to shake the president’s hand is a “once-in-a-lifetime” experience.

“It’s pretty awesome to see him in your hometown,” he said. “Especially your small hometown.”

Everyone should be excited to see the president – any president. Ultimately, all men and women are surprisingly ordinary – even the famous ones. That’s what makes us all so lovable. But the title and all the responsibility that comes with being POTUS – now that’s something special.

I stood on a street corner in Minneapolis to get a glimpse of George W. Bush a few years ago, and I thought I saw a hand wave behind smoked glass as his motorcade sped by. Not much to go on – but I still remember it. I doubt that he remembers me. I can only guess that from behind your Secret Service escort, every collection of tired-looking middle aged bald guys begins to blur with the scenery.

But even Michele Bachmann couldn’t hide her excitement at greeting W. Remember this famous moment from her first few weeks in Washington in 2007?

Well of course you’d be delighted. There have only been 44 U.S. Presidents, so why not grab one as he goes by and see how long you can stay connected? Though maybe it wasn’t the man Michele found so invigorating. She might have been trying, even then, to hang on to the office.

You are a touring (campaigning!) President of the United States, and someone has just handed you their baby. What do you do?

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Trains That Run On Time

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A fascinating article about trains and autism in the New York Times got me thinking about the ways we each try to make sense of a nonsensical world.

The article profiles an autistic 5 year old named Ravi who has an amazing command of train and bus schedules. He, his older brother and mother visit the New York Transit Museum weekly because “People with autism have difficulty processing and making sense of the world, so they are drawn to predictable patterns, which, of course, trains run by”.

The article also quotes the museum’s assistant director, who said she had been besieged by field trip requests from schools that serve children with autism, so she established a program that indulged the young people’s need to dig deeply into the details of routes and timetables while also offering a chance to build social skills.

One parent said her child finds trains especially soothing, and he gets upset when they are not on schedule. Apparently one very effective bridge between loving trains and developing social skills is an old favorite – Thomas the Tank Engine. But a word of caution – if you’re comforted by vehicles that have to stay on their proscribed path, this mini-episode is bound to be unsettling.

Only on children’s TV is the idea of a locomotive crashing into a house made infinitely worse by the undeniable fact that a collapsing plaster wall can ruin your breakfast. Some calamities are too big to take in – you have to view them through a lens that minimized the damage. Perhaps this is how Tim Pawlenty feels today.

But it does make some sense that any person who has a hard time adapting to quick, unannounced change might find a bit of happiness in the carefully planned environment that’s on display in a transit museum.

Where do you like to go when things feel out of control?

The Baboon Congress

Name Your Gadget

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Today’s guest post is by Joanne.

I absolutely adore Science Fiction shows – always have. Since the original “Star Trek” series was televised when I was in grade school right up to current edgy shows like “Fringe” that are being aired now. Along the way I’ve enjoyed all Star Trek series and movies, Babylon 5, Dr. Who, Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, Stargate series, Quantum Leap, Battlestar Galactica (the recent one – not the cheesy old one with Lorne Greene) and others.

The best way to explain my love of science fiction is the feeling of exhilaration I experience when well-done science fiction explores the range of possibilities available in our wide universe – the dreams of what could be. Time travel, parallel universes, technology advances, spiritual and physical evolution. I am fascinated and uplifted by the innovative genius of the writers and how they use beloved and familiar characters to flesh out the questions, curiosity, dark urges and brilliance that always bubbles beneath in our collective consciousness.

I’m guessing that doctoral theses have been written about the triumvirate of archetypal characters that embody Kirk, Bones and Spock. Personally, I’ve never fully understood or felt the need to pick apart and analyze art or literature to mine the metaphors and deeper meanings that may be there – fascinating and rich they may be. I prefer the simple-minded pleasure of watching my favorite characters that seem like old friends, wrestle with the challenges of the future and unheard of scenarios … yet they resonate with the same challenges you and I face on a daily basis in one form or another.

And the gadgets! I remember pretending an old metal Sucrets box was a communicator, trying to emulate Capt. Kirk’s ultra-smooth move of taking his out of back pocket and flipping it open. Now I try to do that with my cell phone. Not as easy as it looks. But the idea of transporters, tricorders, warp speed, translators, bloodless surgery, healing instruments, the TARDIS, parallel dimensions, etc., really gets my blood jumping. The moments I experience the hold-your-breath, expansive, spellbinding trance of great storytelling that transport me to a different level of thinking, a blinding new perspective or breathless possibilities that never occurred to me before. And yet – there’s an underlying familiarity of how it relates to present day problems, shows us our vulnerabilities and celebrates the glories of human existence in a way most other genres cannot.

Granted there are occasions of heavy-handed morality, clunky storylines, weak acting and – God forbid – cheesy special effects; but they all add to the charm of the genre, and are forgiven in a generally good quality Science Fiction show. It’s also a fact that some current technologies were based on science fiction gadgets. Even the making of science fiction shows and movies contributed to great advances in movie special effects that we now take for granted.

What gadget, technology or personal power from Science Fiction would you most like to see, do or have in your life?

The Baboon Congress

My Career as a Meat Packer

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Today’s guest post comes from Jim.

I worked for 2 ½ years at Hormel Foods in Austin, mostly in quality control and toward the end on the production lines. This was one of the last jobs that I worked at before I retired. As a person who supports sustainable farming and use of locally produced foods you would think that I would not be willing to work for Hormel. I am not one of Hormel’s fans, but I do understand that they are an important part of our economy as a major employer and major supplier of food products.

While I could say some negative things about working at Hormel, for now I will concentrate on things that I liked, in particular the people who work there. Almost everyone I met at Hormel was a capable worker because poor workers were weeded out quickly. Some of the workers helped me learn how to do the jobs I was given. My most unusual trainer was a Latino man who spoke almost no English and taught me how to make hams using sign language. He pointed to his eyes to let me know I should watch him and then wagged his finger to indicate my technique was not right. After showing me my mistakes he demonstrated a better way to do the work.

One crew that helped me run an x-ray machine for quality control really impressed me. This crew worked in another part of the plant and was temporarily assigned to help with x-raying. They immediately found the most efficient way to load and unload the machine and while they were there I had none of the problems with the machine jamming that occurred earlier. I found out that they had learned to give packages a push at just the right time to avoid jamming.

Probably my most pleasant experience was meeting and working with some Filipino women. I meet one of these women because she was a coworker and several others because they worked near me. Soon I found out that they ate together in the lunch room and I was invited to eat with them. They were very friendly and sometimes shared some of their interesting Filipino food with me. . On another occasion a Latino man also shared some good home cooked food with me. I tried some of his very well flavored ears of sweet corn and samples of empanadas that had an excellent pumpkin filling.

Veteran workers had lots of stories to tell me and gave me some suggestions for staying out of trouble. One of their tricks was to stay out of sight if they were ahead on their work and wanted to take an “unofficial” break. One morning when I was early getting to work I found several night workers hiding in a dark room toward the end of their shift. On some production lines you had to be an extremely efficient worker due to the fast pace of the work. I was told that a representative of a company that made a machine used at the plant said it was breaking because it was not designed to work at the high speed set by Hormel.

But it wasn’t the machines that made my time at Hormel worthwhile, it was the people.

Describe your favorite (current or past) co-worker.

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Bears!

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Here’s a message that came in early this morning from our text-crazy friend in the woods, Bart the Bear. I think he was up all night, picking at the keys, trying to make up for his lack of thumbs.

Bart - The Bear Who Found a Cell Phone

Hey. Bart here.

Some campers were up here yesterday and I got kind of excited because they were talking about getting blackberries out of their backpacks.

“I can’t live without my blackberry,” one said.

“Me neither,” said the other one. “I’ve got it in my hand, like, all the time.”

I’m thinking these are my type of guys. I can’t live without blackberries either.

But then the first one said “My wife yells at me and says I can’t play with my blackberry at the table.”

Honest, it didn’t sound like these guys even KNEW that blackberries are food. And lookin’ at ‘em and playin’ with ‘em? They’re pretty, I admit, but geez! And what use is just one? You confuse me. How did you humans get to be so … everywhere … if you don’t know the difference between what’s good to eat … and toys?

Anyway, I almost charged in there and ripped open the backpacks myself, but I figured it wasn’t worth it for just two bites. When I have blackberries, I eat bunches.

Then they got to talking about other stuff I don’t care about, but my ears perked up when one said “this drop is gonna put us in a bear market.”

A bear market is a really interesting idea to me. Is that a market where you buy bears, or a place where bears go to buy the stuff that they like? I’d like it to be the second type, of course.

The other guys says “Put us in a bear market?
We’re already IN a bear market.”

Then the first guy answers with “It’ll be a SUPER bear market. A bear-a-palooza market!”

I started drooling ‘cause that sounds awesome. I can think of all sorts of things I’d like to get at a bear market, especially if I don’t have to pay. And I don’t, usually. I just take the stuff that looks good to me – as much as I can carry – and I come back for more, later. Unless the ranger shows up.

That’s Bear Marketing 101.

Anyway, I know lots of other bears – polars, grizzlies, koalas, black bears, brown bears and wooly bears too. If there’s someplace you guys are hiding from us every body calls a bear market, especially a SUPER bear market, let me know. I thought I heard them mention where it is, but I can’t remember if it was by a wall or near a street. One of those. Anyway, send me a map. I’ll organize a buying trip and we’ll give ‘em a day of commerce at the bear market like they’ll never forget!

And we’ll bring a picnic!

Are you the type of person who panics?

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A Little Place in the Country

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Many thanks to Steve for two guest blogs last week. We’re in a guest blog free-fire zone. No need to ask – just send one whenever you have an idea! connelly.dale@gmail.com

On this day in 1815, Napoleon Bonaparte set sail for the Island of St. Helena in the south Atlantic, his second exile. They had already tried to put him on ice at Elba, but he didn’t stay.

Don’t get the wrong idea. I really don’t know anything about Napoleon, except that led the French when they were successful at war, that he was short, he liked to tuck a hand into his vest, and he married Josephine.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/nutmegdesigns/

Oh, and he has a lovely pastry named for him. Although this one wants to be called Alice. And why not? Alice is a friendly name, and being served a dessert named Alice is not an instant reminder that you are a zero when it comes to French History.

It is pitiful to be so clueless and I would blame the American education system except that I have been out of it a long time. Several of my beloved teachers are long dead and at any rate they can’t be held responsible for my ignorance anymore. I have had plenty of opportunities to complete my education, but decided to watch TV instead.

So no historical facts or meaningful observations come to mind when I think of Napoleon’s final exile, but I have been able to come up with two songs.

This one by Mary Black is very specifically about St. Helena.

And this one, named for the battle that sent Napoleon into his final exile.

If I had appeared on television in any of those outfits, I would want to go away for a while too. But the thought of total exile seems quaint today. Where is exile, exactly? And what is it? Can our compulsively interconnected world even imagine it?

And is there a place on the globe where they haven’t heard of Abba? Anywhere?

You are responsible for punishing a military mastermind so threatening he can’t be allowed to raise another army. Prison would be a dangerous place – too many impressionable minds waiting for a leader. And dropping him on a barren island somewhere? That’s just a reality show waiting to happen. His influence would grow!

Construct some sort of exile to keep him in check.

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Be Kind to Your Arts Volunteer

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The Minnesota Fringe Festival begins this evening, and if you haven’t considered attending a few shows this time around, you should. Almost anything can happen on stage with one major exception – the show can’t last more than an hour. This is a major draw for theatergoers with active bladders, as well as those who want their entertainers to get to the point or at least get it over with.

One reason to be hesitant – the festival relies on the support of an army of volunteers who take tickets and run the stages while being informative, courteous and efficient. Another reason – I am one of those volunteers.

Given what we know about my memory (or at least what people tell me about my memory), “informative” can be a challenge, sometimes. Especially when there are 168 shows at 18 venues. Still, I stand by my off-the-cuff statement to one curious patron last year that the show “An Adult Evening of Shel Silverstein” did not include an actual appearance by Shel Silverstein. I totally guessed on that one because Silverstein is dead, and I turned out to be right in spite of the strength of Fringe shows that feature zombies. “Courteous” is a strength area – I’m fairly certain I do OK on that one. “Efficient”? I admit I’m a work in progress.

Here’s my dirty little secret: though I have been in the employment pool for over 35 years, I have never had a paying job that required the physical handling of money. There are no burger joints in my background, no movie theaters, no coffee shops – in fact, there are no cash boxes anywhere in my resume. Also, I am a uni-tasker. I do one job at a time and I try to do it carefully, even if that’s not the fastest way to move the line (and it never is). You could say I’m retail – impaired.

This is a significant, self-inflicted handicap. In the crush time before a show starts, Fringe volunteers need to quickly decipher and make note of each type of admission various patrons will present, including the “all show” Ultra Pass, the 10 Show Pass, the 5 Show Pass, the Kid’s 5 show pass, and single show admissions. They must keep track of discount admissions (senior, student or MPR member), and if the patron cannot produce a Fringe button, the volunteer must explain that one is needed along with the ticket. It’s a one-time purchase ($4) but an every-show requirement, and if you forgot it on the kitchen counter you will have to buy a new one. And volunteers must be firm if anyone attempts to enter the theater after the doors have closed. All Fringe shows begin on time and there is no late seating.

Did I mention that I freeze up in a confrontation? Not total paralysis, but there might be long pauses, stammering, sad eyes and some gulping – more than enough to dull my persuasive powers. I’ve learned that people will not cede an argument out of pity.

Fortunately, Minnesota Fringe volunteering is the perfect entry-level experience for someone with my unique collection of shortcomings. The audiences are polite art lovers who have a high tolerance of ambiguity. They come to the festival predisposed towards forgiveness, whether they are being patient with an artist who thought he could build an entire monolog around his cat’s tumor, or a volunteer who can’t add. It is a rare and beautiful quality for an audience to possess an open and adventurous spirit. People at the Fringe expect to have their expectations challenged.

Note to one of last year’s customers: The blank look, the fumbling around in the cash box and all the finger-counting that accompanied the process of my making change for your fifty dollar bill was not, as you may have thought, incompetence. I was presenting a tiny drama about the value of paper money when offered in exchange for the fruits of a creative mind. Question: Can anyone truly “buy” an idea?

I hope I gave you something to think about, and I encourage you come back. I’ll be at the same place wearing this year’s volunteer shirt. My new show asks if it’s really possible to “control” a crowd.

If you had to create a piece of solo performance art, what would it be about?

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Oldie But Goodie

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Today is Tony Bennett’s birthday! He’s 85, and he has a new album – more duets with people 1/4th his age.

In celebration of longevity and recycling proven material, two things Tony is known for, I offer a reprise of a blog entry from long ago, when Tony was a spry 83!

Dr. Larry Kyle of Genway, the supemarket for genetically engineered foods, has announced a repeat of his Bennett birthday special!

While other old bananas turn brown and quietly liquefy, the Bennett Forever Banana stays a vivid, tasty yellow with firm, flavorful flesh! Just when you think it’s as good as it can get, it gets a little bit better! That’s a remarkable advance in fruit preservation, all thanks to a little bit of Tony’s DNA, which he graciously contributed one night by putting his hand on a pen I gave him to sign a concert program.

In fact, these Bennet Forever Bananas are SO GOOD, I’m still offering some of the bunches I put on sale two years ago. They’re as fresh and yellow as a taxi in a car wash!

Look for Genway to use the magic of Bennett DNA on a whole line of fruits and vegetables that will benefit from extended shelf life. Lettuce, grapes, strawberries, asparagus, broccoli … even Tony Tomatoes and Bennett Beets will amaze and delight you long past the time you thought they’d be compost.

It’s a brand new day for the produce section. Find these beauties under the Bennett Forever Banana banner and pick up a banana hat for yourself or the kids! It’s not an actual hat, but rather, a new way of carrying a bunch of bananas (pictured) that I think has great potential to be a fashion trend for the rest of the recession! Carmen Miranda on a budget! That’s the kind of innovation you expect from Genway, the supermarket for genetically engineered foods!

Do you eat food that’s past its “best by” date?

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Roughing It

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It has been almost one month since we heard from perennial sophomore and chronic underachiever Bubby Spamden. I started to think he had gone on vacation with his parents … but no! The Spamdens never go anywhere!

Hey Mr. C.,

I’m kind of bummed today because it looks like the U.S. government won’t go into default after all. I have to admit I was kind of hoping it would.

Oh, I know what people say –that it would bring an economic catastrophe that would last a long time and seriously wreck my Potential Standard Of Living, not that my P.S.O.L. was ever anything to get excited about. In fact, each time my teachers at Wilkie hold me back for another year, they make it a point to sit down and have a talk, lowering my expectations about the kind of future I might have. It got to the point where I was kind of hoping a national economic super-collapse would create a level playing field where everyone could be down at MY level of sub-standard achievement, just so I wouldn’t feel so alone.

See, the teachers always tell me when I don’t hand in my assignments on time – “You better learn how to get your work done, Buster (yes, some of them still don’t know my name!), because out in the REAL world if you don’t get your work done, you wind up all out of money and not able to pay your bills.” Like that’s so unusual! It describes, like, everyone I know!

I mean, I used to think it would be horrible to be a no-account deadbeat, completely unreliable and financially stressed all the time. But this summer it’s just another name for government!

I see the U.S. might still lose its AAA bond rating, even though they got a deal worked out. Just as well. I always thought three A’s all bunched together like that was kind of showing off. What’s wrong with a C or a D thrown in there just for variety, huh?

So the next time a teacher calls me a lazy bum and predicts my personal economic collapse and a future that’s all about living in an appliance crate and eating cat food casserole every Wednesday night, I’ll ask what diff does it make and how does she like her under-funded pension plan?

I’m writing down the names of the teachers I will invite to share my cardboard box someday! It’s a very short list.

Your pal,
Bubby

Ever go camping in your own back yard?

The Baboon Congress

Happy Trails

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Happy Monday, Baboons!
I had a nice, artful post prepared for today, all based on the idea that a Deficit Ceiling Deal would still be nothing more than an elusive fantasy. Oh well. My loss is everyone’s gain!

Fortunately, faithful regulars are standing in the wings with prepared entries.

Today’s guest post is from Plainjane from the West Side.

I don’t know how often these two artists have appeared in the same sentence, but I find it striking that one, Bill Morrissey, who I’ve enjoyed for years, should pass at the same time as one, Amy Winehouse, who I was mostly aware of because of her notoriety. Clearly both were tremendous talents and very troubled souls. Bill’s autopsy blames a heart ailment, but it is widely known that his health was damaged through years of alcohol abuse. In Amy’s case, she struggled publicly with addiction. I think of her as the English Janis Joplin.

I’ve read the comments on Facebook about both of those deaths, and I’m truly saddened by the lack of compassion expressed by some of my younger “friends” at Amy’s passing. I’m guessing that the more compassionate remarks about Bill’s death has to do with the age of the commentators.

I’ve been pondering the connection between creative genius, talent, mental illness and addiction. We have so many examples of people with extraordinary talents that have led, by most ordinary definitions, miserable lives.

Depression seems rampant among many of the creative people I admire the most, and I’m wondering whether there’s a connection between the sensibility that allows you to immerse yourself into the pain of others and the creative urge. Although I’ve never counted, I’m guessing that there are far more love songs written about love gone wrong or betrayal than falling in love.

And unless you’re a fan of “True Romance” I’m guessing that most of us think of conflict and pain as a very real part of life and great novels.

I love happy endings, but at the ripe old age of 68, I’ve come to the conclusion that truly happy endings are uncommon. One of the most idealistic love songs that I can think of is Bill McCutcheon’s “Last First Kiss, written as an anniversary gift to his wife. It’s lovely, but you have to ask yourself if many real relationships actually fit this description:

Sunday morning, coffee’s on
The kids are gone
I’m thinking of that moment when
All you had to do was speak
My knees went weak
Yeah, I’m twenty-two years old again

You were my last first kiss
I never imagined love could be like this
You are the woman I still can’t resist
You were my last first kiss

That Friday night at your front gate
It was getting late
A long, slow walk home from the dance
You said you had a real nice time
Slipped your hand in mine
I closed my eyes and took a chance

Been to heaven
Been through hell
Since I gave you that ring
Now heaven knows
I wouldn’t change a thing

Sunday morning, coffee’s on
The kids are gone
I’m thinking what a ride it’s been
Still all you have to do is speak
My knees go weak
I’m twenty-two years old again

©2001 John McCutcheon/Appalsongs (ASCAP) & Steve Seskin/ Larga Vista Music/ Scarlet Rain Music ( ASCAP)
Swannanoa, NC July 2001

Compare that to the distance and lack of communication that mark the relationship described in this Bill Morrissey song – “Birches”.

Which seems more “real” to you? And does “reality” matter, when it comes to art?