A Night to Remember

Today’s guest post is by Joanne.

Ever since I got interested in theater in high school, the thought of moving to Minneapolis took hold of me. Whether instinct, destiny, fate, or what have you, I was drawn to the City of Lakes, home of the famed Guthrie Theater and the Jewel of the Midwest. Green Bay, Wisconsin was not a small town, but back then it was just Packers, beer and cheese it seemed.

After a year and a half of college in Green Bay and a year stint working in a creamery, I was definitely ready to fulfill my dream of acting and finishing my degree at the U of MN. The final step was registering for classes in person during the summer at a prescribed day and time at the Minneapolis campus. I took a few days off work from the creamery and got a friend to drive with me. I didn’t want to go alone to the “big city”, so we found a cheap motel room close to campus. Anybody know of the Gopher Motel? There was no internet to check these things out, so I just winged it as best I could using a (paper!) map.

We arrived at our seedy hotel room early in the evening on a Monday night, excited about our adventure. On a whim, we called the Guthrie just to see what was playing. Back then, they had Monday night Rush tickets with a show at 8pm – and they had a few seats available for Monsieur de Moliere playing that night. It was nearly 7:15pm – should we do it? The person at Guthrie ticket office assured us we were only 15-20 minutes away. With frantic excitement, we called a cab, got dressed and ready for our special night on the town.

We arrived with just enough time to buy the last $5 (five dollars!) rush tickets and the last ones seated. Unbelievably, these were the best seats (known as house seats, which are saved to the last minute in case of mistakes or surprise VIPs). While local critics panned this particular play, I was absolutely enthralled. I think it was about the life of Moliere and his benefactor, King Louis IV. Everything about the production was amazing to me.

I was seated on the aisle, close to front and center. I’ve never had such excellent seats again at the Guthrie! At one point in play, the actor playing King Louis XIV was in the aisle next to me, seated on his “throne” while watching or talking to Moliere onstage. I just stared at him. His costume was magnificent – a white satin with rich gold brocade material on everything –hat, waist coat, pantaloons, shoes – with poufs, gold braid and lace accenting every detail. A long elaborately curled wig adorned his head. The costume was gorgeous, excessive yet tasteful as was the fashion of the period.

I clearly remember ogling that costume so close to me and thrilling to the amazing acting I experienced during the production. My first few years in Minneapolis, I felt the Guthrie could do no wrong.. Every time I attended a play there was a thrilling event for me. Before kids arrived, I had season tickets for 2 years for cheap seats on Sunday matinees (I hate driving at night). Eventually, I realized even the Guthrie had occasional clinkers, but it never dimmed my enthusiasm and the special thrill I felt each and every time I went to that magical place.

There is always a bigger town somewhere. Name one that boasts a unique and intimidating experience you’re excited and afraid to have?

Heavyweights of Light Verse

Since I happily made a big fuss over the birthday of cockroach and cat poet Don Marquis a few weeks ago, it would feel wrong somehow to neglect another towering name in the pantheon of not-really-taken-too-seriously rhymers.

Today is Ogden Nash‘s birthday, born in Rye, New York in 1902.

He tried being a stock broker and a school teacher before turning to making up words for a living. It was his good fortune to live during a time when people enjoyed puns. His funny little poems made him famous. Nash was a familiar guest on radio in its heyday, though I can only imagine the pressure he was under to keep the clever quips coming. I hope it was easy for him.

Ogden Nash is best known for his very short works. As in:

Candy is dandy
but liquor is quicker.

And:

The ostrich roams the great Sahara.
Its mouth is wide, its neck is narra.
It has such long and lofty legs,
I’m glad it sits to lay its eggs.

But here he breaks the pattern, stretches it out, and gives us something that still feels true today:

I find it very difficult to enthuse
Over the current news.
Just when you think that at least the outlook is so black that it can grow no blacker, it worsens,
And that is why I do not like the news, because there has never been an era when so many things were going so right for so many of the wrong persons.

And then he gets extremely wordy (and funny). At least I recognize myself in this one:

There is one thing that ought to be taught in all the colleges,
Which is that people ought to be taught not to go around always making apologies.
I don’t mean the kind of apologies people make when they run over you or borrow five dollars or step on your feet,
Because I think that is sort of sweet;
No, I object to one kind of apology alone,
Which is when people spend their time and yours apologizing for everything they own.
You go to their house for a meal,
And they apologize because the anchovies aren’t caviar or the partridge is veal;
They apologize privately for the crudeness of the other guests,
And they apologzie publicly for their wife’s housekeeping or their husband’s jests;
If they give you a book by Dickens they apologize because it isn’t by Scott,
And if they take you to the theater, they apologize for the acting and the dialogue and the plot;
They contain more milk of human kindness than the most capacious diary can,
But if you are from out of town they apologize for everything local and if you are a foreigner they apologize for everything American.
I dread these apologizers even as I am depicting them,
I shudder as I think of the hours that must be spend in contradicting them,
Because you are very rude if you let them emerge from an argument victorious,
And when they say something of theirs is awful, it is your duty to convince them politely that it is magnificent and glorious,
And what particularly bores me with them,
Is that half the time you have to politely contradict them when you rudely agree with them,
So I think there is one rule every host and hostess ought to keep with the comb and nail file and bicarbonate and aromatic spirits on a handy shelf,
Which is don’t spoil the denouement by telling the guests everything is terrible, but let them have the thrill of finding it out for themselves.

When someone begs you for a compliment, do you deliver?

tim’s august soliloquy

Today’s guest post is by tim.

august is the month to get ready and to act. the seasons are rolling by and august marks the end of the summer. april is a distant memory june and july were an hour and a half ago, august is wonderful but if you had a summer action planned and haven’t quite gotten it down in ink now is do or die time. the state fair is here in a couple weeks and that marks the end of summer for sure. the kids are going back to school in the new colors of the season. where did pink and chocolate as a combination come from? and the backpacks carry the current rage. i had a beatles lunch box the baseball season is almost over and here comes football then basketball then hockey thanksgiving and xmas followed by february and spring training and the renewed hope for another season . but take a minute and enjoy this while we re here. don’t miss it because it is what we all wait for, what we all hope for what we work to get to and then are so absorbed in our work that we miss it because the distractions that surround us can leave us oblivious to the reality that september is a mere breath away when the leaves start turning and the sweatshirts come out, first for the evening then in the house for comfort then under a fall coat then winter coats and the return to spring.

what did you get done this summer?
what were you hoping to get done?
what are you going to get done before the year is over?

Down at the DQ

I loved this New York Times story about Hamid Chaudhry, the Pakistan-born operator of a Dairy Queen in Reading, Pennsylvania. He has made his shop a cornerstone of the community by getting involved and giving back. The reporter, Dan Barry, describes the proof he saw of a special relationship between an immigrant and his adopted home town, all of it posted on the walls –

The Cumru Elementary School thanks Hamid. The Mifflin Park Elementary School thanks Hamid. The Brecknock Elementary School thanks Hamid. The Governor Mifflin intermediate, middle and high schools thank Hamid. The Boy Scouts and the Girl Scouts, the soccer leagues and the baseball leagues, the Crime Alert program, the home for adults with mental retardation — they all thank Hamid.

And here comes the owner, Hamid Chaudhry, in the midst of another 80-hour workweek, fresh from curling another soft-serve. As he makes his way to a corner table, customers hunched over chicken-strip baskets and sundaes call out his name, and he calls back theirs.

“Hi, Tracey; I have that check for you.” “Bye, Mrs. Brady. All good for the homecoming?” “Bye, Mr. Rush. How was the Blizzard? Want another one?”

Great guy. Great story. Even better because it includes ice cream. It sounds like Chaudhry’s DQ has become the town square.

The biggest surprise in the story? It cost him $413,000 to buy the place. Yow! Even if I had that much, I don’t think I’d bet it all on people’s love of Dilly Bars, and I find Blizzards irresistible. I guess that’s the difference between me and a real entrepreneur.

The sort of business where so many people feel welcome and connected is a boon for any town – large or small. When I was growing up in Montrose, New York, our gathering place was the convenience store down on the State Highway – a centrally located establishment with a big sign that featured the cutout of a police officer blowing a whistle, and a huge halting hand outstretched, commanding you to “Stop N’ Shop”.

What did they have there? Everything. Who did I see when I went? Everyone!

Ever live in a town with an unofficial meeting place?

Pleased to Meet You

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?

Trains That Run On Time

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?

Name Your Gadget

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?

Punctuated Equilibrium or Stephen Jay Gould #2

Today’s guest post is from Clyde.

I used to work for a superintendent whom everyone called “Ballpark” because he could not get out a sentence without a sports metaphor. He had a half-dozen uses for the term “ballpark.”

Similarly because of my constant use of science metaphors and science parallels to what we were reading, my students used to wonder if I was an English teacher or a science teacher. At this stage in my life two of my favorite science metaphors, which I had to carefully explain in class, are very useful descriptive terms.

The first is ENTROPY, which is a concept from Newton’s second law of thermodynamics. I bet all baboons know the concept. In pure science, it is much more complicated than as used in my metaphor or common usage. Entropy is the tendency for systems to proceed to disorder, chaos, or randomness. Complex structures will eventually break down to their constituent parts (such as my body). It was an effective way for students to understand “Lord of the Flies.”

Old age is certainly a battle against entropy. A friend of ours says that when she is a senile wreck in a nursing home that she wants someone to tie her knees together every morning before she is put in a wheelchair and rolled out into the common area. A pastor we know has been dealing with a mother and daughter who were both in long-term care, the mother for old age and dementia and the daughter for a degenerative disorder. When the daughter died, every few minutes the mother would find out her daughter had died and grieve freshly all over again, including several times at the funeral.

The other metaphor, PUNCTUATED EQUILIBRIUM, is from S. J. Gould. For a long time the unassailable rule of geology and evolution was that all change occurs at a constant and slow rate. Various scientists in different fields fought this rule for much of the last century and finally won. For instance a region of eastern Washington called the Scablands is now believed to have been created in a few days, not millennia, as if Lake Erie has suddenly decided to empty over Ohio in a three days. A similar but less dramatic event occurred along the Minnesota River valley.

Biological and geological change are now believed to have had long periods of stasis or very slow change and briefer periods of intense change. Of course, “briefer period” can also mean thousands of years or more as opposed to millions of years or more. Gould and a couple of other people developed the term “punctuated equilibrium” to describe this concept, which seems to me more widely applicable. (In its root meaning, “punctuate” means break in or interrupt, as in “puncture.”)

For instance, geo-politcal/social/economic/technological equilibrium was “punctuated” in so many astounding ways in the 1990’s it should have been overwhelming, but we all just kept motoring along. Humans are so very adaptive. I wonder if the punctuation will ever cease.

How much are entropy and punctuated equilibrium metaphors for your life and times?

A Lilipadlian Life, or Stephen Jay Gould #1

Today’s guest post is from Clyde.

At 6 a.m. I rode the Sakatah Trail to a bridge across a narrowing in Eagle Lake, a fun place to watch wildlife, such as beaver, egrets, herons, swans, eagles. This morning below the bridge was a swarm of a few hundred 3-6 inch catfish, most about 5 inches. They were feeding on water bugs, or perhaps their larva on the surface of the shallow water in a circle about 8 feet across.

After a bit I saw a pattern to their movements. Four to six catfish would make a group and swim abreast across the area of feeding. At the edge of the circle they would disband and swim back into the circle, soon joining another band. In the 20 minutes I watched I guess about 150 such groups formed, swam, and then disbanded at the edge. The few three-inch fish were never part of a group.

The question, of course, is, in the language of the evolutionists, what advantage is there to such behavior? The answer is obvious; improved feeding. A group can sweep up the larva and/or bugs more efficiently. When the larva/bugs try to swim out of their way, the ones at the edge catch them. I wonder two things: 1) is there more advantage to being in the middle or at the ends? 2) are some fish dominant, as in wolf packs, and always get the more advantageous position?

Can you tell I read a lot about nature and evolution. I believe Stephen Jay Gould is one of the great essayists, a match for Montaigne, Addison, Steele, Pepys, Emerson and the like. Thoreau I would still place above all of them. Perhaps it seems odd that as a former pastor I read about evolution. But I see no conflict; I believe reading about nature and evolution has a strong worshipful aspect. I admire the mind of the creator, in the design of both species and processes/systems. I have on occasion quoted Gould from the pulpit, but not his evolutionary thinking as such. Gould’s nature essays covered vast ground, including one of the finest and also one the stupidest essays ever on baseball. I did have one church member who knew who he was, and we enjoyed our inside joke.

The fish behavior I observed raises one of the most difficult questions for evolution, one that still perplexed Darwin at his death: how do cooperative behaviors develop? Survival of the fittest is a fully competitive model in which each individual is trying to protect its DNA and pass it on at the expense of other species and individuals.

How in a very competitive world do cooperative and even community behaviors develop? In some non-human species community roles have developed, such as foster parenting. How does one explain the vast community/cooperative behaviors of humans in evolutionary terms? A theory of an altruistic gene has developed to explain such behavior, which really only raises deeper questions. One man believes he has identified a gene for religion, thereby disproving the existence of God, which again only goes deeper because, of course, God could have made that gene.

It is a fascinating and complex issue. I do recognize both competitive and cooperative behaviors in myself and think to some extent they are instinctual. I have a visceral competitive response every now and then, damn it. I also think that in general men are more competitive and women more cooperative, but that may be learned in socialization. Lots can be said, but:

Where do you fall on the competition/cooperative continuum? Where would you like to fall?

My Career as a Meat Packer

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.