Sunday, March 30, 2014

Sevastopol on the Black Sea

I have traveled outside the United States just enough to have little or no excuse for ignorance of world geography and history.  My first ride on the Paris Metro from Gare de L’Est or perhaps Gare du Nord en route to Left Bank destinations Boulevard St. Michel, Saint-Germain des-pres, or Jardin du Luxembourg, the Metro station with the un-Francophonic name of Sebastopol caught my attention.  In those days, “the library” was still where I went to look up information in the World Book Encyclopedia and the World Atlas.  No Wikipedia.  No Mapquest. No Map Crow to tell you the distance between Sevastopol and Sochi (which few Americans ever heard of before the recent Winter Olympics from Russia) is 315 miles via the Black Sea or its northern coast.

The Russian Black Sea Fleet makes its home in Sevastopol, the strategic port of Crimea, sometimes considered the Ukraine, sometimes not.  Russian Prince Grigory Potemkin built not a village but a naval fortress at the harbor for Czarina Catherine the Great and named it Sevastopol in 1784, half a decade before George Washington became President of the United States, four decades before James Monroe’s State of the Union address articulated to Congress the doctrine that interference by European states in the Americas would be considered hostile acts against the United States.  According to the Putin Doctrine of 2014, NATO, the EU, and the U.S. are not welcome on the northern shores of the Black Sea.

The Black Sea, about 168,500 square miles, connects to the Mediterranean via the Aegean Sea through the Bosporus, the Sea of Marmara, and the Dardanelles.  Sometimes. Water flows in and out of the Black Sea from both directions.  Levels can reach lows that interrupt navigation all the way to the Mediterranean and turn the Black Sea into a lake, albeit twice the size of The Great Lakes of North America, Superior, Michigan, Huron, Erie, and Ontario, which cover an area of 94,250 square miles along the U.S./Canada border, and the Atlantic Ocean can almost always be reached through the St. Lawrence Seaway

Back in the U.S.S.R. days, Nikita Krushchev, well-known champion of democracy, liberty, and self-determination, transferred the Crimea to the Ukraine in 1954.

Saturday, March 8, 2014

Je Ne Regrette Rien

“La vie en rose” were the first words I ever heard in the French language.  It was love at first hearing.  Those were lyrics of a song, but to me words in the French language are always musical.  The word for “song” in French: chanson.

I turned 21 in France, courtesy of the U.S. Army.  I should have taken more advantage of the opportunity.  Years later, I lived in Belgium, a bi-lingual country because of tight quarters with its neighbors, France and Holland.  By then, I had a family.  We took a weekend, the American Thanksgiving holiday, and rented a cabin in the Ardennes and kayaked a few miles of the Lesse River past les chateaux high on the banks to Dinant.  Afterwards we feasted at a restaurant offering  lapin, caille, canard, cuisses de grenouille.  When we returned to the cabin, we watched stunned and puzzled at the reports on French television of the cyanide laced Kool Aid suicides in Jonestown, Guyana, that day.  Serious doubt plunged our language skills to to the level of failure, because we could not comprehend the acts about which we thought we were hearing.

I will be 70 years old my next birthday.  Maybe.  At 62, I was hospitalized with meningitis and in a coma for three weeks.  I suspect that is as close as anyone gets to dying, then can tell about it.  I am telling you, it was painless and trouble free for me.  For my loved ones who had to watch and wait, it was not.  Since then, I have also had quadruple bypass heart surgery.  If I had known I was going to live this long, I would have taken better care of myself. 

La vie en rose.”  Non, ce n’est pas.  Of course.

Parents sometimes get to bury their children.  It is not supposed to work that way, but even the expected sequence of events is not much better, “Hush, little baby.  Don’t you cry.  You know your mama’s bound to die.”

Songs are poems, with music.  The oldest poems were all songs.  Oh, how I love poets and songwriters.

Edith Paif, chanteuse, made “La vie en rose” famous worldwide.  Her style was charismatic, brave, ironic. 

Long Afternoon at the Edge of Little Sister Pond
By Mary Oliver

As for life, 
I'm humbled, 
I'm without words
sufficient to say

how it has been hard as flint, 
and soft as a spring pond, 
both of these
and over and over, 

and long pale afternoons besides, 
and so many mysteries
beautiful as eggs in a nest, 
still unhatched

though warm and watched over
by something I have never seen— 
a tree angel, perhaps,
or a ghost of holiness. 

Every day I walk out into the world
to be dazzled, then to be reflective.
It suffices, it is all comfort—
along with human love,

dog love, water love, little-serpent love,
sunburst love, or love for that smallest of birds
flying among the scarlet flowers.
There is hardly time to think about

stopping, and lying down at last
to the long afterlife, to the tenderness
yet to come, when
time will brim over the singular pond, and become forever,

and we will pretend to melt away into the leaves.
As for death,
I can't wait to be the hummingbird,
can you?



Sunday, March 2, 2014

Foreign Service Memorial

The American Foreign Service Association maintains a memorial at the west end of the diplomatic lobby, the C Street entrance to the U.S. Department of State in Washington, D.C.  On plaques are the names of Foreign Service personnel who have lost their lives in the line of duty.  The latest listed include Ambassador Chris Stevens and his telecommunications officer Sean Smith: “Terrorist Attack – Libya 2012,” say the inscriptions.  Secretary of State was Hillary Clinton.  President was Barack Obama. 

The first name on the memorial is that of Revolutionary War patriot William Palfrey, lost at sea in 1780 on his way to France to serve as consul-general, by unanimous appointment of the Second Continental Congress, of which John Hancock was president.  The American Foreign Service at that time consisted mainly of John Jay, Benjamin Franklin, Thomas Jefferson, and John Adams. 

AFSA currently lists 244 names from deaths in 64 foreign countries and at sea.  Assassinations, embassy bombings, yellow fever, cholera have claimed lives of Foreign Service personnel, those who work at embassies, consulates, and missions worldwide, some locations lovely and/or exotic, some not. 

Earliest victim of violence appears to have been Harris E. Fudger, murdered in Bogata, Colombia, 1825.  Secretary of State was Henry Clay of Kentucky.  President was John Quincy Adams, Secretary of State for the previous President (James Monroe) and son of the second President of the United States (John Adams).

Many Foreign Service civilians died in Vietnam, along with 58,000+ military.  Secretaries of State included Dean Rusk, William Rogers, and Henry Kissinger, Presidents Lyndon Johnson and Richard Nixon.

The suicide bombing of the U.S. Embassy in Beirut, Lebanon, 1983, killed 63 people, many of their names engraved on the AFSA memorial.  Secretary of State was George Shultz.  President was Ronald Reagan.

U.S. Foreign Service Officer David Foy was specifically targeted in an attack on the consulate compound in Karachi, Pakistan, in 2006, the third in the same number of years.  President George Bush was scheduled to visit in two days.  Condolezza Rice was Secretary of State

Saturday, December 14, 2013

Paw Paw Bill, Sr.

My sister Jacque’s daughter Mandy asked me, “Do you have any pictures of Pawpaw in his Marine uniform?”  Her son Michael has recently completed Army training at Ft. Jackson, S.C.  Mandy’s father was an Air Force NCO, a 20-year career. 
I replied, “I certainly did once upon a time.  A handsome devil he was, too.  It may take me a couple of days to put my hands on the pictures, but I will be happy to scan them and post them to you.”  It took me a month.  (Why are things always in the last place you look?  Maybe you just stop looking once you have found them.)
This one looks to me like a Boot Camp pose.  Paris Island, S.C., about 1943-44.

Thursday, November 28, 2013

Thankfully Flannery O’Connor: Art Begets Art

A good girl like Flannery O’Connor was easy to find.  In Milledgeville, Ga., she attended morning mass daily at the Sacred Heart Catholic Church, where she was a devout parishioner.  Somewhere else, on somebody’s Victrola or Philco, she heard Sophie Tucker or Bessie Smith sing the blues: “A good man nowadays is hard to find.”  Flannery O’Connor transformed that lyric into the ironic title of what has become a classic of southern literature.  In her story “A Good Man is Hard to Find,” a Georgia family of five, parents, children, and grandmother, embark upon an automobile vacation to Florida but encounter a gang of escaped convicts, led by “The Misfit,” who concludes of the grandmother, “She would of been a good woman, if it had been somebody there to shoot her every minute of her life.”   Internet images illustrating this story, with bodies on the ground and splotches of bright red, are not hard tofind.

Virginia artist Martha Dillard paints a different response to the stories of Flannery O’Connor.  Her painting based on “A Good Man is Hard to Find” depicts the family seen though the back window of their automobile.  They are tranquil, scrubbed, all dressed up with someplace to go, clueless.  If anything, the Dillard painting is even more chilling than the violent and grotesque story.  
Martha Dillard has launched a new blog FlanneryO’Connor: A Good Painting is Hard to Find The blog will feature her paintings based on the writings of Flannery O’Connor.  She has painted eleven of these and now plans more.  She invites suggestions of your favorite Flannery O’Connor story. 
Flannery O’Conner was an occasional painter herself.  Ms. Dillard’s paintings were displayed alongside those of Flannery O’Connor at a special exhibit in Milledgeville.   Ms. Dillard’s one-person exhibit based on the short stories of Flannery O’Connor has traveled through the South.  I was originally introduced to Ms. Dillard’s work at the Childhood Home of Flannery O’Conner in Savannah.
In addition to her interest in Flannery O’Connor, Ms. Dillard has two artistic passions, “painting abstractly and painting landscapes.”  Abstract art “gives me the freedom to splash, drip, pour, squeegee, scrape, print, spray, explore, discover and play.  Going back and forth from realism to abstraction helps keep me fresh and offers challenges to learn and grow.”  Ms. Dillard’s move to the country in 1998 provided her “the daily opportunity to appreciate the wonder of light, fog on the mountain, the glory of spring from the top of the meadow, a sunset over the tops of distant trees, an old house, a favorite view down the road, and the ever-changing expanse of sky.”
Ms Dillard graduated from Austin College and Virginia Tech.  She also studied at workshops with Wayne Thiebauld, Darby Bannard, and Susan Shatter and at Arrowmont  and Penland Schools of Art and Craft.  Her work is in public and private collections throughout the U.S.
Image of painting copyright by Martha Dillard.  All rights reserved.  Used here by permission.

Friday, November 22, 2013

November 22, 1963, Not-So-Golden Annversary



Chris Matthews, formerly of The San Francisco Examiner and currently host of MSNBC's Hardball, may be the closest thing remaining to the sort of old fashioned journalist I grew up wanting to be. As he has mentioned several times on his television show, he has written a book about John F. Kennedy. He avoids using the term "Camelot," but his memory of President Kennedy is certainly admiring. Matthews, in his youth, joined Kennedy's Peace Corps, as did others of my and Matthews' generation, many males of whom changed their hair styles to resemble that of Kennedy. Include Chris Matthews himself. Also Jack Kemp and Newt Gingrich. Me, too. Sales of "greasy kid stuff" went the way of the buggy whip.

Matthews argues that Kennedy should be remembered for things other than his assassination on November 22, 1963. However, there are those of us who can never forget, because our world never looked the same to us again after Kennedy in Dallas, with Oswald and Ruby.

Chris Matthews nominates remembering Kennedy on his birthday or the anniversary of his civil rights speech in 1963. I could propose some other special dates: that of the Cuban Missle Crisis or the brutal murder of the South Vietnam President Ngo Dinh Diem 20 days before Nov. 22, 1963.

You can see in the photo of JFK and his wife Jacqueline arriving in Ft. Worth on their way to Dallas. He wore a handsome smile. She wore a spotless pink suit.

Wednesday, November 13, 2013

Cameras Prohibited in DeKalb Farmer's Market

By Annette Cotter

To the goon who sashayed into the restaurant of Dekalb County Farmer's Mkt. yesterday with an ammo belt and gun strapped to his waist...and sat down two tables from me: So you felt it necessary to demonstrate here at lunchtime, that at any moment you could take out that gun and kill anybody in the room. Me. The little girl in the princess dress who ate everything on her plate. The old black man praying over his lentil soup. And we have to deal with this. We do not know if you are sane. We do not know if you have a mental age of 9. We do not know if you are angry at some group or other. Or if you are a self appointed vigilante/messiah here to protect us against other gun-toters who might have some of the above listed problems. If you were wearing a policeman's uniform, or a Sheriff's uniform, or a military uniform, we would know something about you. We would know that you had been screened and found mentally balanced, not a drug addict, and that you had received instructions on the proper use of firearms and the heavy responsibility that goes with their possession. But dressed in your T-shirt and jeans we can surmise only that you have been screened by some seller at a gun show and the test you passed was simply to have enough money to purchase the gun. Am I afraid? A little. Am I nervous? Yes. Am I angry? Furious! YOU HAVE NO RIGHT! Oh, you say the second amendment blah blah blah. Stand your ground blah blah blah. You give me bad law. You give me a foolish and wrongful interpretation of the constitution handed down in a time when the inmates have taken over the asylum and wisemen stand in the corner with their backs turned. You want your country back? What country is that? The one where a black man cannot be president? The one where a woman's place is in the home? The one where gays are in the closet? No! No, I want MY country back! I want to eat lunch and shop for groceries free from worry about your flaunted ability to kill me if you take a notion. I want my country back for myself, for the little girl in the princess dress and for the black man praying over his food. I want my country back for all Americans who have agreed to go about our daily lives happily and without fear and who feel no need to shoot anyone dead.

Sunday, September 15, 2013

I'm Deaf, Not Stupid

Most expert advice is not as insightful or useful as the first article I read in 2006 after I was hospitalized with meningitis, in a coma for three weeks, and woke up 100 percent deaf in both ears.  “So you’ve had meningitis and now you’re deaf,” the article began.  “Boy, are you lucky!”

First person accounts of being deaf are scant enough that if you Google the subject, you may even find some of my own limited distribution writing.  I am now a member of several deaf groups on Facebook, where I learned about a memoir from a writer, deaf from childhood as a result of meningitis.  Henry Kisor, former book review editor of  The Chicago Sun-Times and successful writer of mystery novels in his retirement, entitled his memoir of deafness, What’s That Pig Outdoors?  Lip-readers and hearing impaired experienced with assistive listening devices will understand the joke.  The actual sentence represented by that nonsensical question was “What’s that big loud noise?”  Best guesses are glasses always neither half full nor half empty.  They’re just glasses with something more or less unidentifiable inside.

Henry Kisor lost his hearing to meningitis as a toddler, but his parents were strong, intelligent, and dedicated to his success in the world as they knew it, the hearing world.  They found him a teaching system by which he would learn to read and write standard English, speak it and even understand it when spoken by others.  In his childhood, little in the way of special education was available for the deaf.  What there was, did not meet with much approval from his parents or him as he grew up.

Certainly, every deaf person's experience is unique.  The scarcity of first hand accounts only contributes to stereotype.  American Sign Language (ASL), cornerstone of deaf culture, has its own syntax and grammar, according to those who know, which does not include me.  When I read entries on some of the Facebook deaf groups I have joined, it is difficult for me not to stumble over the errors of case, tense, and noun/verb agreements, no worse than I would make in any language other than English.  I also often read the justifiable retort: “I’m deaf, not stupid.” 

A couple of years ago, I was working inside an apartment I own, remodeling it for the next tenant.  Busy and deep in concentration, I heard a noise I did not recognize.  Eventually, my peripheral vision saw people peering in the window.  At that point, I realized what I had heard was the sound of the doorbell, distorted by my cochlear implant. 

When I answered the door to a group of five, I said, “I apologize.  I did not hear you.  I am deaf.”

Immediately hands began to flutter all at once.  Someone said, “Us deaf, too.”

I thought they were mocking me, and I was very embarrassed.  They were not.  One applied to rent the apartment.  The others were just along to help and support their friend.  I constructed a strobe-light smoke detector for my new tenant.  Like me, she had a cochlear implant.  Not like me, she was born deaf.  She had received the cochlear implant as an adult.  After trying it for a while, she abandoned it, because the sounds were too unpleasant and bothersome.   I do not disagree.



Saturday, August 31, 2013

Drum Beat

I can not remember myself ever before in 50 years defending the Warren Commission Report.  This is the one that was supposed to explain the assassination of President Kennedy as he rode through downtown Dallas in an open-top convertible on November 22, 1963.

President Johnson appointed the Warren Commission, which was headed by the Chief Justice of the U.S. Supreme Court and included the chairman of the Senate Armed Services Committee, the Majority Leader of the U.S. House of Representatives, the Minority Leader of the U.S. House of Representatives, the Central Intelligence Agency Director fired by Kennedy after the Bay of Pigs, a former president of the World Bank, chairman of Chase Manhattan Bank, several former and future U.S. Ambassadors,  a future opponent of the War in Vietnam, and a future President of the United States.  I know there were only seven members of the Warren Commission.  Some changed jobs over time.  Some changed beliefs.

If you want to fish through the minnows swimming in the oceanic 26-volume final report of the Warren Commission, you can buy copies from  Amazon.com in hardback for as little as $4.05 or CD-ROM for  $12.99.

 The Warren Commission reported that Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone when he shot Kennedy with a mail-order rifle and that Jack Ruby also acted alone when he shot Oswald with a hand-gun. Lee Harvey Oswald was a loner and nut case.  Jack Ruby was a night-club owner.  Texas lawmen in cowboy hats flanked Lee Harvey Oswald as Jack Ruby shot him at point blank range while television cameras broadcast live and in vivid black and white.

What if the Warren Commission had reported that Lee Harvey Oswald, a trained U.S. Marine Corps sniper, a double defector who lived in Russia long enough to find a bride, what if the Warren Commission had reported that Lee Harvey Oswald was an agent assassin for Soviet Union?  No.  Such a provocative conclusion was just not admissible by the political trust represented in the Warren Commission.  Barely 12 months previously the Cuban Missile Crisis had brought the U.S. and the U.S.S.R. to the brink of nuclear war.  

I am remembering the Warren Commission this Labor Day weekend, when I should be remembering the struggles of working people to earn a living and the objections of corporations, even long before Wal-Mart. 

This Labor Day weekend, previously classified intelligence evidence that Syria has used chemical weapons against its own citizens has been released at the highest levels of the current U.S. government, not waiting for a Snowden or an Ellsberg.   CNN is aglow 24 hours around the clock with videos of unidentified origin showing innocents suffering the effects of chemical weapon attacks.  Over 100,000 Syrians have been killed, according to the news reports.  The sound of a drum beats in the background.

Saturday, July 6, 2013

Mozart Yodel Nº 1

If you spot a white station wagon, late 20th Century model, on U.S. 78 between Stone Mountain and Athens, with paint cans, scrap lumber, and tools in the back, it could be me.  If you hear singing in fractions of keys, sometimes matched, even yodeling, it probably is me.  But I am just minding my own business.  Which is more than I can say for the cop who switched on his flashing lights to pull me over, while I was in the middle of trying to recreate the real Hank Williams version of Lonesome, Long-Gone, Lovesick Blues, part reverie, part hearing and speech therapy as a cochlear implant cyborg.

I’ve got a feeling called the blue-ue-ue-ue-ue-ues,
Since my baby said goodby.
I don’t know what I’ll do-o-o-o.
All I do is sit and cry-y-y-y-y-y.

You have to keep the vowels in the throat, a glottal trick, almost like a gargle, with Listerine.  When the Snellville cop pulled me over, he said he was afraid somebody in my vehicle was in some sort of distress.

Hank Williams did it better http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-Xu71i89xvs , more painful than the lackadaisical yodel of the singing brakeman Jimmy Rogers.

Blue Yodel Nº 1 (T for Texas)

Wikipedia says of yodeling: 
“All human voices are considered to have at least two distinct vocal registers, called the "head" and "chest" voices, which result from different ways that the tone is produced.  Most people can sing tones within a certain range of lower pitch in their chest voices and tones within a certain range of higher pitch in their head voices and spring into their falsetto (an "unsupported" register forcing vocal cords in a higher pitch without any head or chest voice air support). In untrained or inexperienced singers, a gap between these ranges often exists, although more experienced singers can control their voices at the point where these ranges overlap and can easily switch between them to produce high-quality tones in either. Yodelling is a particular application of this technique, wherein a singer might switch between these registers several times in only a few seconds and at a high volume. Repeated alternation between registers at a singer's passaggio pitch range produces a very distinctive sound.  
"For example, in the famous "Yodel - Ay - EEE - Oooo", the "EEE" is sung in the head voice while all other syllables are in the chest voice.”
This Jewell of skill and elegance :


Or, Königin der Nach, :


What is the difference?
V for Volfgang.
V for Viennese.
V for Volfgang.
V for Viennese.
V for Velma.
That gal made a wreck out of me.

Ah Oh Ah Oh Ah Oh Ah Oh Ah.

Sunday, June 23, 2013

Digital Magic Lantern



I miss gainful employment, music, and going to the movies.  I got hooked on movies in the 7th grade at Clark Howell Elementary School, formerly on 10th St between Juniper and Piedmont, now the site of a City of Atlanta fire station.  Clark Howell Elementary housed the Atlanta Public Schools film library.  An audio-visual license available to 7th grade boys entitled the holder to operate the 16mm Bell and Howell projector, a certified accomplishment, status of seniority and acquired skill.  I showed individual classrooms as well as assemblies of the entire school films like The Last of the Mohicans starring Randolph Scott as Hawkeye, John Ford’s Young Mr. Lincoln with Henry Fonda, and Les Miserables with Frederic March as Jean Valjean and Charles Laughton, unforgetable as Inspector Javert.
For the next 50 years after the 7th grade, I took the enjoyment of movies for granted, like breathing in and out or the beating of my heart.  Then I lost my hearing, 100% in both ears, due to meningitis in 2006.  I have had to make do with foreign language films, captioned in English, and the slim pickings from chain theaters of Hollywood releases with captions for the hearing impaired.  Yes, I saw the 2012 Oscar winner “The Artist,” the most successful silent movie since The Jazz Singer made Al Jolson a star in 1927.
Movie captioning at a theater near you has lagged behind television and DVD rentals.  Captions for the hearing impaired have been in three varieties.  Closed captions—white letters on a black rectangle, covering part of the movie screen.  Open captions—letters superimposed directly across the movie scene, unreadable without proper contrast.  Rear Window—a clumsy  contraption like a goose-neck lamp that sits in the cup holder of the theater seat and is like watching the movie in the rear view mirror of your car parked backwards at the drive-in.
Recently Regal Cinemas of Knoxville, Tn., and Sony electronics of California and other Pacific Ocean locations have introduced a new technology that makes movies accessible again for me and others who are hearing impaired, statistically 10 percent of the population.  The new Sony technology transmits the captions wirelessly for holographic display right on the lenses of special glasses, not on the movie screen.  The  Sony Entertainment Access Glasses may be worn over any eyewear already used by the moviegoer.  Since the captions do not appear on the screen, other movie customers do not experience any distraction of captions.  Descriptive audio is also provided through the wieless receiver and can be accessed by connection of an assistive neck-loop,  compatible with some hearing aids, or headphones, for movie patrons who have low vision or are blind.
Here's a youtube video demonstration.  With Captions.
Until now, the number of movies at the multi-plex shown with any form of captions has been limited to just enough to side-step Americans With Disabilities Act litigation, no more than three or four films, even in large metropolitan areas like Atlanta, and showings were often scheduled for some off-peak time, mid-week, mid-day, like Tuesday at 3:30 p.m.  As I write this, the weekly listing by the captioned movies search engine Captionfish found the following captioned features scheduled multiple times daily, including weekends, at 10 theaters within 60 miles of my home in DeKalb County, Georgia:
Alex Cross, Argo, Cloud Atlas, Flight, Fun Size, Here Comes the Boom, Hotel Transylvania, Life of Pi, Lincoln, Looper, Paranormal Activity 4, ParaNorman, Pitch Perfect, Red Dawn, Rise of the Guardians, Sinister, Skyfall, Taken 2, The Man with the Iron Fists, The Perks of Being a Wallflower, The Silver Linings, Playbook. The Twilight Saga: Breaking Dawn: Part 2, Wreck-It Ralph.
A significant increase over the past.  Pardon my understatement.  Regal Cinemas currently offers the largest share of these captioned showings.  Within a month, I have seen The Master in Snellville and Lincoln at Atlantic Station, doubling my movie attendance for the year to date.
Currently 200 Regal theatres nationwide offer the Sony Entertainment Access System, which is expected to be in all of Regal’s digital cinemas by April.  Regal  Entertainment Group operates 6,597 screens at 522 locations in 37 states and the District of Columbia.   “We are encouraged by the positive feedback already received regarding the new technology,”  Regal said.
Modern multi-plex movie theater projection booths no longer resemble your father's Last Picture Show, no metal reels of sprocket-fed celluloid.  Each digital movie is contained on a hard-disk, ready to be connected to a digital projector, which is controlled by a central computer.  Maybe another name will evolve for these electronic optical illusions rather than film or movies.  It is still hard to beat the oldest: magic lanterns.  Also connected to the digital projector is a transmitter that produces the wireless signal for the Sony Assistive glasses.
Introducing new technology may be a bumpy road.  Suggestion: Give yourself some extra time when you arrive at the theater.  Let the customer service manager demonstrate  the glasses.  Read the instructions before you take your seat and the movie begins.  For a preview of the illustrated instructions provided by Regal, click here.  I intend to print them out and bring them with me from now on every time I go to the movies.
A Regal spokesman acknowledges “the many years of aid, insight and support provided by advocates within the deaf, hard of hearing, blind and low vision communities," including Riverside, CA’s Model Deaf Community, American Council of the Blind, City of La Verne Inclusion Advisory Committee, Hearing Loss Association of America, Metropolitan Nashville Mayor’s Advisory Committee, California School for the Deaf, Mid Tennessee Council of the Blind, multiple local disability resource centers, and Captionfish.
Fellow clients of the Georgia Council for the Hearing Impaired, which provides my Captel caption telephone, share stories of their experiences  at restaurants (don't even try the drive-thru), banks (use the debit card machine), and retailers that all too often register on a scale between insensitive and insulting.  The manager of a major home improvement store in Atlanta said to me, “Sir, don’t raise your voice.  I’m not deaf.”
I removed the external device of my cochlear implant from behind my ear and held it out to him in the open palm of my hand.  “I am,” I said.

(Reprinted from Like the Dew, a journal of southern culture and politics)

Sunday, June 9, 2013

Cool Summer Encores: Live in HD

Watch this!


Enjoy select summer encore performances from the award-winning Live in HD series of shopping mall movie theater presentations from the Met. All encore performances will be shown at 7 pm local time. Summer HD Encore dates vary by location near you, so please check with your local movie theater. 


·                                 Carmen

US: June 19, 2013, 7 pm (local time)
Richard Eyre’s hit production stars Elīna Garanča as the seductive gypsy of the title, opposite Roberto Alagna as the obsessed Don José. Carmen "is about sex, violence, and racism—and its corollary: freedom," the director says about Bizet’s drama. "It is one of the inalienably great works of art. It's sexy, in every sense. And I think it should be shocking."
Conductor: Yannick Nézet-Séguin; Production: Richard Eyre; Barbara Frittoli, Elīna Garanča, Roberto Alagna, Teddy Tahu Rhodes
Approximate Running Time 2:58
Original transmission: Saturday, January 16, 2010

·                                 Il Trovatore

US: June 26, 2013, 7 pm (local time)
David McVicar’s stirring production of Verdi’s intense drama premiered at the Met in the 2008–09 season. This revival stars four extraordinary singers—Sondra Radvanovsky, Dolora Zajick, Marcelo Álvarez, and Dmitri Hvorostovsky—in what might be the composer’s most melodically rich score.
Marco Armiliato; Sondra Radvanovsky, Dolora Zajick, Marcelo Álvarez, Dmitri Hvorostovsky
Approximate Running Time: 2:40

Original transmission: April 30, 2011

·                                 Armida

US: July 10, 2013, 7 pm (local time)    
This mythical story of a sorceress who enthralls men in her island prison has inspired operatic settings by a multitude of composers, including Gluck, Haydn, and Dvořák. Renée Fleming stars in the title role of Rossini’s version, opposite no fewer than five tenors. Director Mary Zimmerman describes the work as “a buried treasure, a box of jewels.” Armida is a fanciful and magical tale with “an epic, enchanted quality and a tremendous visual element.”

Conductor: Riccardo Frizza; Production: Mary Zimmerman; Renée Fleming, Lawrence Brownlee, John Osborn, Barry Banks, Kobie van Rensburg
Approximate Running Time 3:05

Original transmission: Saturday, May 1, 2010

·                                 La Traviata

US: July 17, 2013, 7 pm (local time)
Natalie Dessay stars as Verdi’s most beloved heroine in Willy Decker's stunning production, first seen at the Met in 2010. Matthew Polenzani is her lover, Alfredo, and Dmitri Hvorostovsky sings his stern father, Germont. Met Principal Conductor Fabio Luisi is on the podium.
Conductor: Fabio Luisi; Production: Willy Decker; Natalie Dessay, Matthew Polenzani, Dmitri Hvorostovsky
Approximate Running Time 2:28

Original transmission: April 14, 2012

·                                

Additional Broadcasts

Please check local theater listings for availability

·                                 Il Barbiere di Siviglia

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One of the most beloved operatic comedies of all time, Rossini’s The Barber of Seville is presented in a production by director Bartlett Sher. Superstar tenor Juan Diego Flórez as Count Almaviva is joined by American mezzo-soprano Joyce DiDonato as Rosina and Peter Mattei in the title role of the swaggering barber.
Conductor: Benini; Production: Bartlett Sher; Joyce DiDonato, Juan Diego Flórez, Peter Mattei, John Del Carlo, John Relyea
Approximate Running Time: 2:57

Original transmission: March 24, 2007

·                                 Turandot

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Director Franco Zeffirelli’s breathtaking production of Puccini’s last opera is a favorite of the Met repertoire. Maria Guleghina plays the ruthless Chinese princess of the title, whose hatred of men is so strong that she has all suitors who can’t solve her riddles beheaded. Marcello Giordani sings Calàf, the unknown prince who eventually wins her love and whose solos include the famous “Nessun dorma.”
Conductor: Andris Nelsons; Production: Franco Zeffirelli; Maria Guleghina, Marina Poplavskaya, Marcello Giordani, Samuel Ramey
Approximate Running Time 2:20


Original transmission: November 7, 2009

Saturday, May 25, 2013

Taps

Long, three-day holiday weekends lose some of their appeal when you are retired, or as I call myself, semi-retired, which I have learned means not getting paid much, if any, for work.  Still, here it is Memorial Day Weekend.


When I worked at 2201 C Street, NW, in Washington, D.C., parking was available for the midnight shift in the basement. However, daytime parking was reserved for the Secretary of State, undersecretaries, assistant secretaries, and deputy assistant secretaries and their highest level staffs. Clerical and technical employees like me were on our own. Parking on the street near the State Department guaranteed tickets, booting, and/or towing, an experience you did not want to have a second time. I often parked along the Tidal Basin and walked past the hallowed Lincoln Memorial and between there and the Einstein bronze at the National Academy of Sciences. Eventually, these grounds would be selected for the Vietnam Memorial. Even before the first shovel of dirt was moved or the first wall panel set in place and the first of 58,209 names inscribed, there was a hush that made you pause.



Memorial Day is about young men and women who are sent off to war and never come back. It is not about veterans. It does not celebrate the birth of the country. It is not just an occasion for picnics, stock car races, and double-header baseball games. Originally called Decoration Day, because southern ladies and schoolchildren decorated the graves of fallen Confederate solders, it was later adopted nationwide to remember all Americans who died in all wars.

Here are some examples of total United States war dead  from 1775 to the present, according to Wikipedia:

Revolutionar War--25,000 dead
War of 1812--19,260 dead
Mexican-American War--13,283 dead
Civil War--624,511 dead
Spanish-American War--2,446 dead
Philippine-American War--4,196 dead
World War I--116,516 dead
World War II--405,399 dead
Korean War--36,516 dead
Vietnam War--58,209 dead
Afghanistan--2,031 dead
Iraq War--4,487 dead.


Special note: the high number for the U.S. Civil War is because we count both sides, which were ourselves.


Memorial Day 2013, Monday, there will be ceremonies at the final resting places of those who gave what Lincoln called, the "last full measure." Drop by one near you. They may play "Taps." Take a handkerchief, just in case.


Sunday, May 12, 2013

No Crying in Baseball


My grandson registered for the 9-year-old baseball league. I vowed not to project my experiences or expectations.  I could be forgiven if I allowed myself to take him shopping for a baseball glove and bat, since I knew something about proper fit and sizes. 

When I was his age, and for a few years after, I could not get enough baseball.  I played on different teams in different leagues simultaneously.  Every Wednesday night and Sunday afternoon, my daddy and I went to Atlanta Cracker baseball games at Ponce de Leon Ballpark across the street from Sears.  I read everything I could get my hands on about baseball: newspaper sports pages, magazines, library books, biographies, fiction by Jackson Scholz (a series of youth books with similar heroic plots, not much different from that used by Bernard Malamud for his literary classic The Natural, also a successful movie, neither for the young).   Baseball made me a reader. 

My grandson Chance was the first batter up at the first batting practice for his baseball team.  The pitcher, at age 9, was prematurely practicing a Hall of Fame flaming fastball but not necessarily getting it close enough to the strike zone to require interpretation by an umpire.  Pitches sailed off in all directions.  Chance hit none of them, but two hit him, one on the wrist and another on his hip.  I took him to the Grand Slam Batting Cages on North Druid Hills Rd.  The pitching machine, labeled "Little League," could not be set below 45 mph, according to the attendant.  Even so, the machine was faster than 9-year-old  pitchers throwing as hard as they could and/or harder than they should.  My grandson backed away from almost every pitch for fear of being hit.  

In the fifth week of a six week spring season for my grandson’s team, the games still consist mostly of walks, wild pitches and passed balls, while the fielders stand by to no useful purpose, enduring the tedium of run after run scored without any ball being hit, definitely not gaining any experience at catching and throwing baseballs.  A pitcher has been identified who occasionally gets the ball near home plate.  Each inning is halted when the team batting scores five runs.  The coach walks out to the mound to talk to the pitcher.  The pitcher holds the baseball in his glove, which he uses like a handkerchief under his nose.  The heel of his free hand wipes each cheek in turn, then again.

Tom Hanks, Geena Davis, and Madonna lead off the line-up of director Penny Marshall’s engaging 1992 movie A League of Their Own, about an all-girl professional baseball team, coached by has-been Hanks. 
In a famous scene, Coach Hanks criticizes one of the players, who begins to weep.  Hanks utters with patented Tom Hanks dismay, “There’s no crying in baseball.”

Maybe.  Maybe not.

Sunday, April 21, 2013

Immigrants, Bombings, and Murder in Massachusetts



I have heard the two words enemy combatant uttered in conjunction with recent events in Massachusetts but not the two words Sacco and Vanzetti.  Maybe I have not been listening to the right people.
  
  
Ferdinando Nicola Sacco (April 22, 1891 – August 23, 1927) and Bartolomeo Vanzetti (June 11, 1888 – August 23, 1927) were suspected anarchists who were convicted of murdering two men during a 1920 armed robbery of a shoe factory in South Braintree, Massachusetts, United States. After a controversial trial and a series of appeals, the two Italian immigrants were executed on August 23, 1927.
Since their deaths, critical opinion has overwhelmingly felt that the two men were convicted largely on their anarchist political beliefs and unjustly executed.  In 1977, Massachusetts Governor Michael Dukakis issued a proclamation that Sacco and Vanzetti had been unfairly tried and convicted and that "any disgrace should be forever removed from their names." The case is still officially open.--wikipedia
 

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