By the time I reached the Age of Majority in Maryland I was a tax payer, with a vehicle registered with the MVA, and registered to vote. In Maryland, one is (or was, at the time I first became eligible) eligible* to serve on a jury once every three years. Montgomery County is (or was, I should check this**) a one-day or one trial jurisdiction, unless one is chosen for Grand Jury service, which is three months, once a week, usually on Thursdays.
So my history of being called for jury duty looks like this:
In my 20s:
- I got a summons for Jury Duty, showed up at the court house, and found that the only possible trial for that day had just settled, so we were released. Time spent doing my civic duty: about 15 minutes.
- Three years later I got a summons for Jury Duty, showed up at the court house with a bad cold, a box of Kleenex, and cough medicine. Dozed in a chair until we were released around noon. Time spent being on site and willing to do my civic duty: 3-ish hours.
- Three years later I got a summons for July Duty, showed up at the court house, and was part of a group chosen to be interviewed for selection. It was a robbery case and I had had my purse snatched a few years previously, so I was dismissed.
In my 30s:
- Three years later? No summons.
And none ever since.
Frankly, I was beginning to wonder what they thought was wrong with me. I'm pleasant, I know how to dress for a grown up occasion, what?
So, even though I figured that I would get a bureaucratic run-around, I called the Jury Office for Montgomery County.*** Phone was promptly picked up by an actual person who was delighted to help me.
She looked me up. And just like Gopher in Winnie the Pooh and the Honey Tree, I wasn't in the book. It seems that Montgomery County thought that I had moved out of their jurisdiction. I said that, no, I've lived here a long time.****
And so the nice lady put me back in the system and mailed me an invitation to complete a Juror Questionnaire (Do you live here? Are you a criminal? Can you read this questionnaire? Are you old and possibly demented?). I've completed the questionnaire and now and waiting to once again join the folks who are entitled to decide the fates of others. I won't get to stand up and yell "You're out of order!You're out of order! The whole trial is out of order! They're out of order!"*****
In fact, I won't get to say anything in the courtroom, probably. But as a big fan of our civil liberties and the documents on which they are based that speak so highly of the right to a trial by a jury of one's peers, I am happy to be given the chance to be one of those peers.
Truly. The joke is that one's fate is decided by 12 people too dumb to get out of jury duty, but is that really what we want?
I'll be checking my mail!
*This is one of those times where I agree with the bureaucratic language. Serving on a jury truly is a privilege and one is "eligible" to receive privileges.
** I checked. All of these are still the case.
*** David's reaction when I told him that I outed myself to the Jury Office: "You *called* the Jury .... Huh..."
**** So it wasn't me, it was them.
***** Come on. Al Pacino in And Justice for All, of course.
Showing posts with label maryland. Show all posts
Showing posts with label maryland. Show all posts
20 January 2014
09 August 2013
We're moving; I'm not moving
My office is moving from Silver Spring to Crystal City.
And I've been thinking a lot about where I should live, based on what this will do to my commute. Friends suggested relocating to Virginia.
So I did some poking around on line for apartments. The move is not until March, but it never hurts to look. And I found a place in Arlington that was kinda do-able.
But. And it's a big but ... *
I can't shake the belief that moving to Virginia and letting my tax dollars go to Richmond would send a signal that I most adamantly don't want to send.
In Maryland there is Marriage Equality. In Virginia, there isn't.
In Maryland, capital punishment is rarely applied** and is being considered for abolishment because it is the second most unfairly applied form of punishment in the US. (Crack vs. powder cocaine is the first.*** ) Virginia's execution rate per capita is 4th in the nation (after Oklahoma, Texas, and ... Delaware).****
I just can't bring myself to appear to "vote with my feet" that I am for the death penalty and against marriage equality.
I'm not against the death penalty in all cases and think that it can be a good prosecutorial bargaining chip but it hasn't been proven to be a deterrent, it's really expensive, and it's applied with unsupportable amounts of bias.
I'm very much for marriage equality. Enough so that I actually wrote to politicians supporting it. Writing to politicians is just asking to be put on solicitation lists which I hate.
Enough so that I bought a special license plate to say so.
I am for marriage equality because I am for equality. And I'm for love. And families.
"But your vote would count in Virginia!" people like to say.
My vote in Maryland helped pass marriage equality. All my friends' votes in Virginia didn't stop a law writing homophobia into their constitution.
We are moving our offices to Virginia (among other reasons) because it is "business friendly" but I'm staying in Maryland because it is human friendly.
* ... pause for TWSS ...
** 5 people in 35 years, 25th state per capita with a per 10,000 rate of .0009. HT to Death Penalty Info
*** IMHO
**** 108 people in 35 years (second only to Texas w 472) and a per 10K rate of .188
28 March 2012
Tasty, tasty virtue
Garlic Mustard (Alliaria petiolata*) is an aggressive non-native herbaceous plant that was originally brought to the US as a culinary herb. Now, sort of like Norwegian grey squirrels and ... well, my ancestors ... it's relatively attractive stuff that elbows out the natives and hogs resources.
* Okay, that's really for David. He loves proper scientific names.
** Oh. You'd like them, too? Is this what you're looking for? I thought it might be ...
*** Ancient Harvest quinoa pasta, natch! It's my favorite gluten-free pasta.
So garlic mustard is fair game for the urban/backyard conservationist. Or forager. I spent a day with the Friends of Sligo Creek a year or so ago pulling and bagging the stuff. You have to bag it up, rather than let it compost in place because as soon as you turn your back on it, it drops seeds or sends out new shoots and is back in residence faster than a graduating senior with no solid job prospects.
The goal of the FOSC RIP ("Remove Invasive Plants") that day was to get as much of the garlic mustard out of the park as possible, so all we did was pull it out of the ground completely, stuff it in the bag, and move on.
It was afterwards that I found recipes using garlic mustard.** Somehow knowing that I can turn an invasive plant into a yummy sauce to drizzle on pasta makes pulling weeds much more fun. And yet, still so very virtuous. I will save my beloved Maryland from this alien herb *and* adding a locally grown ingredient in my dinner!
There is garlic mustard growing on the hillside behind my apartment building. So after I walk home tonight, I'll go collect enough to give me "3 cups Garlic Mustard leaves, washed, patted dry, and packed in a measuring cup." I would collect it from Sligo Creek Park, except that I understand that one needs permission to do remove plants from the Park and I'd lose a fair bit of my sense of virtue if I get busted for poaching during the harvest.
And, just to save you that one one more click, here's the recipe I'll be using:
There is garlic mustard growing on the hillside behind my apartment building. So after I walk home tonight, I'll go collect enough to give me "3 cups Garlic Mustard leaves, washed, patted dry, and packed in a measuring cup." I would collect it from Sligo Creek Park, except that I understand that one needs permission to do remove plants from the Park and I'd lose a fair bit of my sense of virtue if I get busted for poaching during the harvest.
And, just to save you that one one more click, here's the recipe I'll be using:
Garlic
Mustard Pesto
- 3 cups Garlic Mustard leaves, washed, patted dry, and
packed in a measuring cup
- 2 large garlic cloves, peeled & chopped
- 1 cup Walnuts
- 1 cup Olive Oil
- 1 cup grated Parmesan Cheese
- 1/4 cup grated Romano Cheese (or more Parmesan)
- Salt & Pepper to taste
Combine Garlic Mustard leaves,
garlic and walnuts in food processor and chop. Or divide recipe in half and use
a blender. With motor running, add olive oil slowly. Shut off motor. Add
cheeses, salt & pepper. Process briefly to combine.
Serve warm over pasta or spread on
crackers as a appetizer. It also makes a great topping for baked fish.
http://www.monchesfarm.com/PESTO.htm
http://www.monchesfarm.com/PESTO.htm
* Okay, that's really for David. He loves proper scientific names.
** Oh. You'd like them, too? Is this what you're looking for? I thought it might be ...
*** Ancient Harvest quinoa pasta, natch! It's my favorite gluten-free pasta.
16 March 2011
She opened the door. I walked through it.
My friend Patty asked on Facebook:
What proportion of your electricity usage do you think comes from nuclear power? (I was surprised when I saw the figures.)
And I said:
I actually know this one: Annually, about 26%, compared to about 20% for the US. (Ours comes from the Calvert Cliffs facility.) We also use a lot of coal (50% compared to the US 51%). Nuclear power is kinda scary every few decades. Coal ruins our environment every day. Maryland's hydropower component is about 3%. If we lived in Idaho, almost all of our power would come from hydro.
And then I added:
Japan is 11% nuclear and 46% oil, most of which is imported.
And it was actually on my mind because as we all worry about and pray for the people of Japan and the horrors they are experiencing I was wondering how much of their power comes from nuclear and how they would replace it were the plants to be permanently closed for some reason.
And here's the answer from the U.S. Energy Information Administration's Analysis of Japan:
The analysis contains lots more information, including the good news that Japan has been decreasing their oil consumption due to government emphasis on conservation and efficiency. Perhaps we should consider doing the same.**
* Barrels per day and Billion cubic feet per day. A barrel is 42 gallons. A cubic foot is still what they told you it was in grade school.
** Want to know lots of cool stuff about our energy sources and uses? Our very own Department of Energy knows all and tells lots. Especially about renewable energy resources.
What proportion of your electricity usage do you think comes from nuclear power? (I was surprised when I saw the figures.)
And I said:
I actually know this one: Annually, about 26%, compared to about 20% for the US. (Ours comes from the Calvert Cliffs facility.) We also use a lot of coal (50% compared to the US 51%). Nuclear power is kinda scary every few decades. Coal ruins our environment every day. Maryland's hydropower component is about 3%. If we lived in Idaho, almost all of our power would come from hydro.
And then I added:
Japan is 11% nuclear and 46% oil, most of which is imported.
And it was actually on my mind because as we all worry about and pray for the people of Japan and the horrors they are experiencing I was wondering how much of their power comes from nuclear and how they would replace it were the plants to be permanently closed for some reason.
And here's the answer from the U.S. Energy Information Administration's Analysis of Japan:
Japan has few domestic energy resources and is only 16 percent energy self-sufficient. Japan is the third largest oil consumer in the world behind the United States and China and the third-largest net importer of crude oil. It is the world's largest importer of both liquefied natural gas (LNG) and coal. In light of the country's lack of sufficient domestic hydrocarbon resources, Japanese energy companies have actively pursued participation in upstream oil and natural gas projects overseas and provide engineering, construction, financial, and project management services for energy projects around the world. Japan is one of the major exporters of energy-sector capital equipment and has a strong energy research and development program that is supported by the government, which pursues energy efficiency measures domestically in order to increase the country's energy security and reduce carbon dioxide emissions.
On Friday, March 11, a 9.0 magnitude earthquake struck off the coast of Sendai, Japan, triggering a large tsunami. The earthquake and ensuing damage resulted in a shutdown of 6,800 MW of electric generating capacity at four nuclear power stations that have a total capacity of 12,000 MW (some plants previously offline for maintenance). Other energy infrastructure such as electrical grid, refineries, and gas and oil-fired power plants were also affected by the earthquake. Japan likely will require additional natural gas and oil to provide electricity, however power demand may be dampened at least in the short term as a result of the destruction of homes and businesses. According to some industry estimates, fuel oil and natural gas consumption could increase by up to 238,000 bbl/d and 1.2 Bcf/d*, respectively, depending on the combination of fuel substitution.
Total primary energy consumption in Japan is over 22 quadrillion British thermal units. Oil is the most consumed energy resource in Japan, although its share of total energy consumption has declined from about 80 percent in the 1970s to 46 percent in 2009. Coal continues to account for a significant share of total energy consumption, although natural gas and nuclear power are increasingly important sources. Japan is the third largest consumer of nuclear power in the world, after the United States and France. Hydroelectric power and renewable energy account for a relatively small percentage of total energy consumption in the country.
The analysis contains lots more information, including the good news that Japan has been decreasing their oil consumption due to government emphasis on conservation and efficiency. Perhaps we should consider doing the same.**
* Barrels per day and Billion cubic feet per day. A barrel is 42 gallons. A cubic foot is still what they told you it was in grade school.
** Want to know lots of cool stuff about our energy sources and uses? Our very own Department of Energy knows all and tells lots. Especially about renewable energy resources.
11 March 2011
The Official AN/SPS-30 Cigarette Lighter
This post from Silver Spring: Then and Again is another one of those areas where elements of my personal history come together.
I live in Silver Spring (or at least moved here as a child) because APL was here. The Navy assigned Dad to APL, possibly as a Tech Rep, so my parents bought a house a couple of miles away. We expected to be here for two to three years. Naturally, I therefore ended up doing all but a few months of my schooling in Montgomery County schools.* (I'm not sure but I think if I asked Daddy why the Navy assigned him there, he would say that it was to put him in proximity to Crisfields for lunch every day.)
So I grew up in Silver Spring, Daddy worked at APL, and the third leg of this triangle is, of course, that the company I work for now does radar here in Silver Spring, blocks from the old APL site.
Looking at the plaque, I can even understand most of what it says because quite a few of our contracts say much the same thing. The numbering system for contracts hasn't changed, probably since 1781.
Not that I smoke, but if one of those were to show up at yard sale, I think I'd buy it in a hurry.
*I started kindergarten in at Quidnessett Elementary School in North Kingston, Rhode Island and we moved to Silver Spring in November of that year. The year that I was 14, I spent six months living with Daddy in Belgium and attended the base school from March to June. Other than those brief lacunae, teachers at Parkside Elementary, Eastern Junior High, and Montgomery Blair High School had the daily struggle of getting me to stop daydreaming or surreptitiously reading.
I live in Silver Spring (or at least moved here as a child) because APL was here. The Navy assigned Dad to APL, possibly as a Tech Rep, so my parents bought a house a couple of miles away. We expected to be here for two to three years. Naturally, I therefore ended up doing all but a few months of my schooling in Montgomery County schools.* (I'm not sure but I think if I asked Daddy why the Navy assigned him there, he would say that it was to put him in proximity to Crisfields for lunch every day.)
So I grew up in Silver Spring, Daddy worked at APL, and the third leg of this triangle is, of course, that the company I work for now does radar here in Silver Spring, blocks from the old APL site.
Looking at the plaque, I can even understand most of what it says because quite a few of our contracts say much the same thing. The numbering system for contracts hasn't changed, probably since 1781.
Not that I smoke, but if one of those were to show up at yard sale, I think I'd buy it in a hurry.
*I started kindergarten in at Quidnessett Elementary School in North Kingston, Rhode Island and we moved to Silver Spring in November of that year. The year that I was 14, I spent six months living with Daddy in Belgium and attended the base school from March to June. Other than those brief lacunae, teachers at Parkside Elementary, Eastern Junior High, and Montgomery Blair High School had the daily struggle of getting me to stop daydreaming or surreptitiously reading.
25 February 2011
Uncle Tom's Cabin
I started writing this post (oh my) a long time ago, when the story first ran about the loction of the cabin. I've been moved to update and finish it because the cabin will be open to the public this weekend.
* * * * *
It's a funny thing but until somewhat recently I assumed that Uncle Tom's Cabin was located in the deep south somewhere. Mississippi or Alabama or something. Although the image of Eliza running across a frozen river in the deep south should have put paid to that.
According to this website, the story begins in Kentucky and the icy river is the Ohio. The eventual destination is Canada. Later Tom is sold "down the river," but I'm not sure where. The one thing I do know is that the cabin of Josiah Henson, the slave whose autobiography inspired Harriet Beecher Stowe to write the book, still exists and is located ...... in upscale Bethesda, Maryland.
Maryland, a border state during the Civil War (and a slave state before it), was put under martial law during the war because of the number of pro-Confederate officials and its proximity to Washington, DC. My state, however, did remain part of the Union, (whew) due in part to the efforts of her governor, a slaveholder, who negotiated with federal officials.
Quickie geography refresher - the District of Columbia was originally a diamond-shaped territory donated by Maryland and Virginia. It is now a sort-of diamond-shaped territory with a ragged lower left (the Potomac River) because the Virignia section (Arlington - named for Robert E. Lee's home) was returned and is now the site of, among other things, the Pentagon and Arlington National Cemetery.
Several major arteries go from the Maryland suburbs into DC, including Georgia Avenue, which passes in front of my church. And buried in the churchyard are 17 confederate soldiers who fought in General Jubal Early's raid and the Battle of Fort Stevens. (The deli up the street has a General Jubal Early burger on their menu.) I will pass the church (and the deli) on my way to the Josiah Henson Special Park.
And if they have copies of the Reverend's autobiography for sale, I shall buy one* and learn more about the history of my state.
*You know, to provide a bit of income to the Special Park. If they don't, I can read it on-line.
* * * * *
It's a funny thing but until somewhat recently I assumed that Uncle Tom's Cabin was located in the deep south somewhere. Mississippi or Alabama or something. Although the image of Eliza running across a frozen river in the deep south should have put paid to that.
According to this website, the story begins in Kentucky and the icy river is the Ohio. The eventual destination is Canada. Later Tom is sold "down the river," but I'm not sure where. The one thing I do know is that the cabin of Josiah Henson, the slave whose autobiography inspired Harriet Beecher Stowe to write the book, still exists and is located ...... in upscale Bethesda, Maryland.
Maryland, a border state during the Civil War (and a slave state before it), was put under martial law during the war because of the number of pro-Confederate officials and its proximity to Washington, DC. My state, however, did remain part of the Union, (whew) due in part to the efforts of her governor, a slaveholder, who negotiated with federal officials.
Quickie geography refresher - the District of Columbia was originally a diamond-shaped territory donated by Maryland and Virginia. It is now a sort-of diamond-shaped territory with a ragged lower left (the Potomac River) because the Virignia section (Arlington - named for Robert E. Lee's home) was returned and is now the site of, among other things, the Pentagon and Arlington National Cemetery.
Several major arteries go from the Maryland suburbs into DC, including Georgia Avenue, which passes in front of my church. And buried in the churchyard are 17 confederate soldiers who fought in General Jubal Early's raid and the Battle of Fort Stevens. (The deli up the street has a General Jubal Early burger on their menu.) I will pass the church (and the deli) on my way to the Josiah Henson Special Park.
And if they have copies of the Reverend's autobiography for sale, I shall buy one* and learn more about the history of my state.
*You know, to provide a bit of income to the Special Park. If they don't, I can read it on-line.
06 September 2010
"Hiking Maryland and Delaware"
Mom was an avid hiker and backpacker. The energy, time, enthusiasm, and love that I put into theater, she put into being on trails, maintaining trails, and promoting enjoying the outdoors. I've been saying for a while of our two obsessive hobbies, hers was the smarter because it meant that she spent beautiful days outdoors, while I spend them shut up in windowless rooms.
So I was very touched to run across this letter in Mom's first edition of Hiking Maryland and Virginia by David Lillard and Chris Reiter:
The first edition was dedicated to all of the people who have done trail maintenance and all of the other volunteering that keeps the trails available for anyone who wants to walk them.
It was the dedication in the second edition (2006) that made me cry. I don't cry very often, but this made me get the kind of teary where you can't talk for a couple of minutes, which was inconvenient because I was reading the dedication out loud to Mom, just so that she could hear it again.
And it's inscribed: Dear Ann, You have inspired more than you know. With appreciation, David
And David* and I used the second edition today planning our hike at Little Bennett Park.
Need a good book on hiking in Maryland and Delaware? I have one that I can recommend.
*my David, not Lillard
So I was very touched to run across this letter in Mom's first edition of Hiking Maryland and Virginia by David Lillard and Chris Reiter:
August 24, 2000
Ms. Ann Hall
Dear Ann,
Thank you so much for allowing Ed and me to use your library of trail resources in the research for "Hiking Maryland and Delaware." The books were a tremendous help to us. We were able to include in the book a combination of many hikes that had not before appeared in a single source.
I want you to know also how much I appreciate your dedication and service to the hiking community over these many years. I understand that you are not able these days to put in the kind of "sweat equity" that you once offered. I hope you will be heartened to know your kind assistance on this book is itself a wonderful service to hikers. It will help thousands of novice hikers discover the outdoors that you have so lovingly stewarded.
Enclosed is a copy of Hiking Maryland and Delaware, a small token of my appreciation for your help.
With sincere thanks,
/s/ David
David Lillard
AHS President 1994 - 2000
The first edition was dedicated to all of the people who have done trail maintenance and all of the other volunteering that keeps the trails available for anyone who wants to walk them.
It was the dedication in the second edition (2006) that made me cry. I don't cry very often, but this made me get the kind of teary where you can't talk for a couple of minutes, which was inconvenient because I was reading the dedication out loud to Mom, just so that she could hear it again.
For Ann Hall. When her legs failed her, she did her volunteer trail work from her bottom, sitting in the trail to cut brush, clear water bars, and tend the path. How she got herself so far into the woods no one can imagine. That's love.
And it's inscribed: Dear Ann, You have inspired more than you know. With appreciation, David
And David* and I used the second edition today planning our hike at Little Bennett Park.
Need a good book on hiking in Maryland and Delaware? I have one that I can recommend.
*my David, not Lillard
27 August 2010
Bread and Roses
A few months ago a friend was asked to sign a petition protesting the "sweetheart deal" that a local professional theater/venue had or might have in the future. She asked me about it and I actually was able to frame a reply that didn't involve sarcastic swipes at the giant, tax-payer funded stadia we have around here:
Sorry that it's taken me so long to reply but I wanted to get past my knee-jerk "don't hurt the arts!" response.
I was actually in that space on Monday night because [Theater}, who uses the space, was doing a season preview. I chatted for a bit with [their artistic director], and he told me that [Theater] splits their gate with [Venue].
Considering [Theater]'s normal show budget, [Venue] is not pulling in lots of dollars from them. It's kind of win-win because 1) [Theater]gets the use of a nice black-box theater which seats about as many people as they sell tickets for; 2) [Venue] doesn't have to absolutely program there year-round; 3) Silver Spring's profile as an arts destination is raised a bit; 4) people who want to see good shows for cheap can do it in place where there are restaurants and parking.
[Theater]received two Helen Hayes awards (a big deal in local professional theater) for their work in that space and if they are allowed to continue to use it they will continue to bring value to the downtown area. Theater goers are actually pretty good about spending money around the theater. They meet for dinner, they go out for drinks after, etc. The American Association of Community Theaters has something on their website describing the dollar multiplier provided by theaters. [Real theaters, not movie houses. :-) ]
And [Theater] isn't the only group that uses that space. Back in January the Community Theater Festival Association hosted the One-Act Festival there. I don't know the financial arrangement, but I do know that Association doesn't have much cash, so it may have been a similar split the gate deal. Folks came in from around the state to perform at the festival, so hotel rooms, dinner tabs, and liquor tabs were run up around the area. I, personally, stayed in my own home, it being near by, but I had lunch on my tech day at Egg-spectations, coffee on performance day from Panera, lunch at Panera, lunch the next day with a big group at McGinty's, etc.
Contrast that with the situation at [Other] Theater. They are about $6 million in debt. [Another] theater is going up for auction on Tuesday due to a $4 million debt. The economy is bad all around but arts organizations are always hit hard by any penny pinching. When police are being laid off, it's hard to justify grants for plays. Theaters cannot pay their bills on ticket sales alone. If we did, seeing any play would cost close to New York
But we also provide a benefit, both monetary and artistic to the communities in which we reside. Theater goers spend money. Theaters provide the kind of story-telling that is our cultural heritage. Participating in theater provides the kind of team-work and character development that we ascribe to sports.
I don't know how much of a "sweetheart deal" Montgomery County should give to [Venue] but I know that Maryland lags behind Virginia
05 July 2010
This might not be as easy as I thought
Listing to Power Breakfast on NPR in the morning means that at least once a day I mutter "self-serving jerks" about our elected officials. Probably not what Elizabeth Wynne Johnson has in mind as she broadcasts this daily snippet of what the powerful and corrupted are doing, but that's what I'm always left with.
I have voted in every election in which I was eligible and I don't really want to stop now, but the major parties and their corporate owners don't offer anything better politically than Burger King offer nutritionally, so I don't really want to play with them any more.
It has occurred to me that there is at least one party out there that a) seems to agree with some of things that I find important, and b) has neither the money nor the power to annoy me nearly as much as the behemoths do. Heck, I don't think I've ever heard them even mentioned on "Power Breakfast," which may be a good sign.
So I've decided to start voting for the Green Party. I have voted for their candidates before, but I've decided to make them my default. It's similar to Brett's "vote against the incumbent" policy, possibly, in that it includes a certain "please go away" message to people who have learned that their real job is to get re-elected. Besides, I've long thought that a viable third (and even fourth) party would be our best chance of maintaining a genuine representative democracy.
However, there is a small difficulty. I went to the website for Maryland's Green Party yesterday in order check out the candidates for 2010 and beyond and I got this message:
That's right: the the independent restaurant of politics seem currently to have no candidates. Or no menu to continue the metaphor. I hope they have some candidates very soon because I really don't need or want another Double Down.
King: What means this most unmannerly irruption?
Is this your gratitude for boons conferred?
Scaphio: Boons? Bah! A fico for such boons, say we!
These boons have brought Utopia to a standstill!
Our pride and boast--the Army and the Navy--
Have both been reconstructed and remodeled
Upon so irresistible a basis
That all the neighboring nations have disarmed--
And War's impossible! Your County Councillor
Has passed such drastic Sanitary laws
That all doctors dwindle, starve, and die!
The laws, remodeled by Sir Bailey Barre,
Have quite extinguished crime and litigation:
The lawyers starve, and all the jails are let
As model lodgings for the working-classes!
In short--Utopia, swamped by dull Prosperity,
Demands that these detested Flowers of Progress
Be sent about their business, and affairs
Restored to their original complexion!
King: (to Zara) My daughter, this is a very unpleasant state of things. What is to be done?
Zara: I don't know--I don't understand it. We must have omitted something.
King: Omitted something? Yes, that's all very well, but--- (Sir Bailey Barre whispers to Zara.)
Zara: (suddenly) Of course! Now I remember! Why, I had forgotten the most essential element of all!
King: And that is?---
Zara: Government by Party! Introduce that great and glorious element--at once the bulwark and foundation of England's greatness--and all will be well! No political measures will endure, because one Party will assuredly undo all that the other Party has done; and while grouse is to be shot, and foxes worried to death, the legislative action of the country will be at a standstill. Then there will be sickness in plenty, endless lawsuits, crowded jails, interminable confusion in the Army and Navy, and, in short, general and unexampled prosperity!
W. S. Gilbert, "Utopia, Limited"
I have voted in every election in which I was eligible and I don't really want to stop now, but the major parties and their corporate owners don't offer anything better politically than Burger King offer nutritionally, so I don't really want to play with them any more.
It has occurred to me that there is at least one party out there that a) seems to agree with some of things that I find important, and b) has neither the money nor the power to annoy me nearly as much as the behemoths do. Heck, I don't think I've ever heard them even mentioned on "Power Breakfast," which may be a good sign.
So I've decided to start voting for the Green Party. I have voted for their candidates before, but I've decided to make them my default. It's similar to Brett's "vote against the incumbent" policy, possibly, in that it includes a certain "please go away" message to people who have learned that their real job is to get re-elected. Besides, I've long thought that a viable third (and even fourth) party would be our best chance of maintaining a genuine representative democracy.
However, there is a small difficulty. I went to the website for Maryland's Green Party yesterday in order check out the candidates for 2010 and beyond and I got this message:
WANT TO RUN FOR OFFICE?
If you would like to run for office as a member of the Green Party, please call 443-449-4159.
That's right: the the independent restaurant of politics seem currently to have no candidates. Or no menu to continue the metaphor. I hope they have some candidates very soon because I really don't need or want another Double Down.
King: What means this most unmannerly irruption?
Is this your gratitude for boons conferred?
Scaphio: Boons? Bah! A fico for such boons, say we!
These boons have brought Utopia to a standstill!
Our pride and boast--the Army and the Navy--
Have both been reconstructed and remodeled
Upon so irresistible a basis
That all the neighboring nations have disarmed--
And War's impossible! Your County Councillor
Has passed such drastic Sanitary laws
That all doctors dwindle, starve, and die!
The laws, remodeled by Sir Bailey Barre,
Have quite extinguished crime and litigation:
The lawyers starve, and all the jails are let
As model lodgings for the working-classes!
In short--Utopia, swamped by dull Prosperity,
Demands that these detested Flowers of Progress
Be sent about their business, and affairs
Restored to their original complexion!
King: (to Zara) My daughter, this is a very unpleasant state of things. What is to be done?
Zara: I don't know--I don't understand it. We must have omitted something.
King: Omitted something? Yes, that's all very well, but--- (Sir Bailey Barre whispers to Zara.)
Zara: (suddenly) Of course! Now I remember! Why, I had forgotten the most essential element of all!
King: And that is?---
Zara: Government by Party! Introduce that great and glorious element--at once the bulwark and foundation of England's greatness--and all will be well! No political measures will endure, because one Party will assuredly undo all that the other Party has done; and while grouse is to be shot, and foxes worried to death, the legislative action of the country will be at a standstill. Then there will be sickness in plenty, endless lawsuits, crowded jails, interminable confusion in the Army and Navy, and, in short, general and unexampled prosperity!
W. S. Gilbert, "Utopia, Limited"
18 September 2008
Field Trip!
Or "The Humanities Major Infiltrates a Really Cool Government Facility" ...
Every now and then working with engineers pays off. For instance, the other day I got this in my e-mail:
Sent: Wednesday, August 06, 2008 7:02 PM
Subject: You are invited by the IEEE/AESS and IEEE/ GRSS to Tour NASA on 9/16/08
Next Meeting: Tuesday, September 16th, 2008 at 10am
Topic: “NASA Technical Tour, Integration and Testing Facilities & Hubble Cleanroom ”
Presenter: NASA, sponsored by the IEEE Geoscience and Remote Sensing and Aerospace Electronics and Systems Societies
Location: NASA’s Goddard Space Flight Center
About the Tour: See how NASA builds, tests, and prepares for satellite missions.
Cost: Free
Naturally, I wrote back and asked to be included because how often does an English/Humanities Major get to tour science geekery on this level? I billed myself (to my bosses anyway) as the "corporate representative" to the tour and e-mailed the following to my friend Tim who is an astrophysicist at Goddard: "By the way, I'll be at Goddard for the IEEE tour on September 16th. No points for guessing who will be the only non-engineer there." and we made a date for lunch.
Finally, I would be going somewhere besides my office where my badge (or as I call it, my geek tag) would be considered fashion-wear.
The tour invitation got such a good response that the organizers had to break it up and do it over three days, so I got moved to September 17th. My goal was to not stand out as the Humanities Major in the room, so this morning I got up all bright and lark-like and selected an outfit from the non-Jane Austen end of my wardrobe spectrum: Black slacks, black v-neck shirt, maroon sweater, and flats. Good for walking around in, not likely to interfere with eqiupment that might cost multiples of my annual salary.
We started the tour in the Visitor's Center and proceeded to the theater where they have the Science on a Sphere (SOS) display. According to the brochure, SOS is not revolting breakfast fare but "a suspended 6-foot diameter sphere that displays 3D animated data of the planets, moons, and our earth. The GSFC production crew has also made the first movie to be seen on the SOS called 'Footprints'." Very, very cool. We got to see - among other things - weather patterns from over the past couple of months (think Gustav and Hanna and Ike*) up to that morning. When the guy behind me misinterpreted the data and said we were looking at "today" before we were I was the one who quietly corrected, "no, that's August." "Oh, so it is." He is a scientist. My cover remained intact.
After the SOS we boarded a couple of shuttles and were taken into GSFC proper and into Building 7/10 & 29.
Ahem:
The Building 7/10 Spacecraft Test and Integration Facility contains cleanrooms for spacecraft integration and special chambers for environmental test of spacecraft. Nine thermal-vacuum chambers, four large vibration platforms("shakers"), and an acoustic test chamber capable of 150 decibels are located in this facility. There is also a full-scale model of the Hubble Space Telescope.
The Building 29 Spacecraft Systems Development and Integration Facility is a 7990 m² facility that contains one of the largest cleanrooms in the world. The High Bay Cleanroom is a 1,161 square metres (12,500 sq ft), class 1,000 (M4.5), horizontal flow cleanroom measuring 30.5 x 38 x 27 meters (100'x125'x89'). Its five 250 horsepower fans are capable of moving 25,388 m³/min (900,000 ft³/min). It has been designed to support the integration and testing of flight hardware and has the capacity to accommodate two full-sized shuttle payloads simultaneously and plays a major role in preparations for the Hubble Space Telescope Servicing Missions.
(Thanks, Wikipedia.)
Specifically, the Cleanroom is the largest known Cleanroom in the world. Its 9 stories high, so pretty much everything connected to it just looks freakin' big. I am convinced that I passed a drawer on the tour labeled "Big A$$ Wrenches." (The drawer for sockets, alas, was merely labled "Sockets.") Sort of sums up the experience, right there.
There is a smell common to government facilities. It's not a bad smell, but it is very specific. It's kind of a mix of plastic, metal, and recycled air, with maybe just a soupçon of ozone. I've smelled it when Dad took me on Navy ships and I've smelled it a few other places and it's there at Goddard. Maybe it's the smell of our tax dollars working very hard for us.**
Anyway, we were also taken to see the vibration platforms, the thermal test chambers, and ... the acoustic test chamber. The rule at GSFC is that if there is something that can be tested before an object is shot into space to roam the galaxies at 172kph, they test it. Hence, the acoustic test chamber. Picture loud. Picture the speakers that your most annoying neighbor ever owned. Now picture that speaker being, oh, 10 - 12 feet across. That huge freakin' speaker was quite a few feet overhead and we could only see the back of it and the several feet of business end that was resting on a platform overhead. We walked into the room that leads to the acoustic test chamber, our guide pointed up to the speaker and the group reaction was pretty much "Whoa!" I still tend to think "Whoa!" as I remember it.
Our guide told us that nearby staffers usually find a reason to be out of the building when things are being acoustically tested.
The last stop on our trip was the cyclatron, which a) is huge and b) can spin things up to a rate of 6g. Yep. Six times the gravity of the earth. Humans tend to pass out at 3g. Oddly enough, our guide wouldn't let us ride the cyclatron, but did point out the big mark on the wall from the last time that someone started the device without being 100% positive that everything was completely secured. We all agreed that a good goal was to not be the last signature on the checklist for that event.
As I was leaving the building it began to occur to me that those payloads must find space very restful after all the testing they go through in Greenbelt.
After our tour, I met my college friend Tim for lunch and although I'm sure that the other people enjoyed the tour very much, they didn't get to have lunch with Tim afterwards, so I can only pity them. Tim, who is both wicked smart and a nearly professional story-teller, is a very entertaining lunch companion. With my theater schedule and his two daughters starting their teenage years, we don't see each other nearly often enough.
Goddard hosted "LaunchFest" this past weekend and from what our guide told us, they had a good enough response that they'll do it again, possibly next year. If you get the chance, go. Maybe they'll let you ride the cyclatron...
*No, no, not "Gustav and Walter and Franz." Be serious.
**It is not, as Apocalypse Now teaches us, the smell of victory, as that has a strong napalm aroma.
Every now and then working with engineers pays off. For instance, the other day I got this in my e-mail:
Sent: Wednesday, August 06, 2008 7:02 PM
Subject: You are invited by the IEEE/AESS and IEEE/ GRSS to Tour NASA on 9/16/08
Next Meeting: Tuesday, September 16th, 2008 at 10am
Topic: “NASA Technical Tour, Integration and Testing Facilities & Hubble Cleanroom ”
Presenter: NASA, sponsored by the IEEE Geoscience and Remote Sensing and Aerospace Electronics and Systems Societies
Location: NASA’s Goddard Space Flight Center
About the Tour: See how NASA builds, tests, and prepares for satellite missions.
Cost: Free
Naturally, I wrote back and asked to be included because how often does an English/Humanities Major get to tour science geekery on this level? I billed myself (to my bosses anyway) as the "corporate representative" to the tour and e-mailed the following to my friend Tim who is an astrophysicist at Goddard: "By the way, I'll be at Goddard for the IEEE tour on September 16th. No points for guessing who will be the only non-engineer there." and we made a date for lunch.
Finally, I would be going somewhere besides my office where my badge (or as I call it, my geek tag) would be considered fashion-wear.
The tour invitation got such a good response that the organizers had to break it up and do it over three days, so I got moved to September 17th. My goal was to not stand out as the Humanities Major in the room, so this morning I got up all bright and lark-like and selected an outfit from the non-Jane Austen end of my wardrobe spectrum: Black slacks, black v-neck shirt, maroon sweater, and flats. Good for walking around in, not likely to interfere with eqiupment that might cost multiples of my annual salary.
We started the tour in the Visitor's Center and proceeded to the theater where they have the Science on a Sphere (SOS) display. According to the brochure, SOS is not revolting breakfast fare but "a suspended 6-foot diameter sphere that displays 3D animated data of the planets, moons, and our earth. The GSFC production crew has also made the first movie to be seen on the SOS called 'Footprints'." Very, very cool. We got to see - among other things - weather patterns from over the past couple of months (think Gustav and Hanna and Ike*) up to that morning. When the guy behind me misinterpreted the data and said we were looking at "today" before we were I was the one who quietly corrected, "no, that's August." "Oh, so it is." He is a scientist. My cover remained intact.
After the SOS we boarded a couple of shuttles and were taken into GSFC proper and into Building 7/10 & 29.
Ahem:
The Building 7/10 Spacecraft Test and Integration Facility contains cleanrooms for spacecraft integration and special chambers for environmental test of spacecraft. Nine thermal-vacuum chambers, four large vibration platforms("shakers"), and an acoustic test chamber capable of 150 decibels are located in this facility. There is also a full-scale model of the Hubble Space Telescope.
The Building 29 Spacecraft Systems Development and Integration Facility is a 7990 m² facility that contains one of the largest cleanrooms in the world. The High Bay Cleanroom is a 1,161 square metres (12,500 sq ft), class 1,000 (M4.5), horizontal flow cleanroom measuring 30.5 x 38 x 27 meters (100'x125'x89'). Its five 250 horsepower fans are capable of moving 25,388 m³/min (900,000 ft³/min). It has been designed to support the integration and testing of flight hardware and has the capacity to accommodate two full-sized shuttle payloads simultaneously and plays a major role in preparations for the Hubble Space Telescope Servicing Missions.
(Thanks, Wikipedia.)
Specifically, the Cleanroom is the largest known Cleanroom in the world. Its 9 stories high, so pretty much everything connected to it just looks freakin' big. I am convinced that I passed a drawer on the tour labeled "Big A$$ Wrenches." (The drawer for sockets, alas, was merely labled "Sockets.") Sort of sums up the experience, right there.
There is a smell common to government facilities. It's not a bad smell, but it is very specific. It's kind of a mix of plastic, metal, and recycled air, with maybe just a soupçon of ozone. I've smelled it when Dad took me on Navy ships and I've smelled it a few other places and it's there at Goddard. Maybe it's the smell of our tax dollars working very hard for us.**
Anyway, we were also taken to see the vibration platforms, the thermal test chambers, and ... the acoustic test chamber. The rule at GSFC is that if there is something that can be tested before an object is shot into space to roam the galaxies at 172kph, they test it. Hence, the acoustic test chamber. Picture loud. Picture the speakers that your most annoying neighbor ever owned. Now picture that speaker being, oh, 10 - 12 feet across. That huge freakin' speaker was quite a few feet overhead and we could only see the back of it and the several feet of business end that was resting on a platform overhead. We walked into the room that leads to the acoustic test chamber, our guide pointed up to the speaker and the group reaction was pretty much "Whoa!" I still tend to think "Whoa!" as I remember it.
Our guide told us that nearby staffers usually find a reason to be out of the building when things are being acoustically tested.
The last stop on our trip was the cyclatron, which a) is huge and b) can spin things up to a rate of 6g. Yep. Six times the gravity of the earth. Humans tend to pass out at 3g. Oddly enough, our guide wouldn't let us ride the cyclatron, but did point out the big mark on the wall from the last time that someone started the device without being 100% positive that everything was completely secured. We all agreed that a good goal was to not be the last signature on the checklist for that event.
As I was leaving the building it began to occur to me that those payloads must find space very restful after all the testing they go through in Greenbelt.
After our tour, I met my college friend Tim for lunch and although I'm sure that the other people enjoyed the tour very much, they didn't get to have lunch with Tim afterwards, so I can only pity them. Tim, who is both wicked smart and a nearly professional story-teller, is a very entertaining lunch companion. With my theater schedule and his two daughters starting their teenage years, we don't see each other nearly often enough.
Goddard hosted "LaunchFest" this past weekend and from what our guide told us, they had a good enough response that they'll do it again, possibly next year. If you get the chance, go. Maybe they'll let you ride the cyclatron...
*No, no, not "Gustav and Walter and Franz." Be serious.
**It is not, as Apocalypse Now teaches us, the smell of victory, as that has a strong napalm aroma.
17 September 2008
My alma mater, not my year
David likes to check out the antique photos on Shorpy. Today he sent me this one of the archery team, cheekily labeled "I'm With Cupid."
Montgomery Blair High School girls, 1935
Montgomery Blair High School girls, 1935
20 March 2008
A lovely view from up here
"Where a goat can go, a man can go; and where a man can go, he can drag a gun"
- Maj. Gen. William Phillips, as his men brought cannon to the top of Mt. Defiance in 1777
On Friday I got a nice e-mail from Brett saying that he and son Charles would be hiking Section A of the Billy Goat Trail on Saturday morning and would David and I like to go? David was nursing a case of the sniffles, but I was free and so I rounded up my hiking shoes and we met up at the Visitor's Center.
In general, the best way to get me to do something is to make the information about the activity available and then assume that I won't actually look things up or figure out what I'm getting myself in for.
Like, for instance, that time we were at DisneyWorld and - as I hadn't read up on any of rides, a rather interesting choice for someone who is afraid of heights and has a poor sense of balance - I wandered blithely past the sign saying how tall, how not pregnant, and how free of heart conditions one must be to go on the ride. In fact, I believe that my exact comment as I sashayed by was "Oh, I'm definitely that tall. I'm more than that tall." La, la, la.
And just as I realized that I was in line for a roller coaster and started to try to figure out how to get out of line, Brett, Stacey, and John started telling me that we were in line for the Happy Train to Mickey's Birthday Land or something. I'm not all that bright sometimes, so even that didn't actually cause me to realize what was up. Or rather, way up. And once I did, they just hustled me on board cheerfully talking over my pitiful cries for help.
Not that the DislandWorld folks were going to rush to my rescue; they found the whole thing hilarious. Humphf. I am so put upon.
So anyway, yeah, all I knew when I signed on was that Brett would be there and Charles and that we would be outside on what was supposed to be a beautiful day.* So I followed the link that Brett sent and confirmed that, yep, the visitors' center was the one that I was thinking it was, and went on about my business. I suspect that Brett could invite me to spend six months with his family in a bathysphere**, send me the plans for the vehicle and a list of necessary supplies and health warnings and my brain would file it thus: Brett! Charles! Cate! Something about the beach!
Cate, sadly, couldn't join us this time because she would rather scrub floors than go hiking with me.***
So on Saturday, we met up at the visitor's center and set off on our hike. The first part, which is, well, which is the tow path is very easy. Then the trail breaks right and we leave what's pretty much a semi-paved road and start scrambling over little rocks. No sweat, I can do this. Just keep alert so that I don't turn an ankle and I'll be fine. Heck, this is probably good for my knees! La, la, la.
Then the rocks started to get bigger. To turn into boulders, actually. Around this time, Charles started scrambling up them and announcing how easy they were, which was almost precisely not what I was thinking. The boulders looked like this:
Around the time that the boulders were getting big enough to make me hope that Section A is a loop and that I wouldn't have to meet these rocks coming back the other way, we came round a bit of trail and I saw this:
The Wikipedia caption for the photo calls it the "Billy Goat Trail Cliff." After I got to the top of it, I named it the Cliffs of Insanity**** and began to hope in earnest that we were on a loop. We were and the Cliffs of Insanity was the most "strenuous" part of the trip.
And as I got used to scrambling I got better at it. Not great, but better. I stopped overthinking every step and just took them. And I started treating the relatively flat tops of the boulders more like sidewalks and less like tightropes. It's possible that I am the only person who noticed this blossoming surefootedness, but it still made me feel better.
Especially as while Brett is one of the best people you can have at your side for this sort of thing - supportive, non-judgmental, patient - Charles is, after all, ten years old and being better at things than adults is like getting two desserts and no green vegetables for dinner. So it made him pretty happy to tell me about every blaze he beat me to (most of them) and every rock he climbed better than I did (prett' near all of them).
At one point he was outlining his system for continuing to destroy me, blaze-wise, and I pointed out to Brett that Charles seemed to follow the example of the sort of criminals that Batman always sends back to prison because they'd rather talk about their plan than actually kill Batman. "Yep," agreed Brett, "he's a monologuer." Of course, your average Batman villain stands more or less in place while monologuing and Charles can do it while scampering up a boulder pile in a way that reminds you why both children and young goats are called kids.
I will be revenged, however. Some day Charles and I will be lost in the trackless desert or shipwrecked or something and my contribution will be to smirk and say "Oh, you're so smart -- you get us home" and then go back to reading whatever script was in my purse when the disaster happened. I'm kind of looking forward to this, actually. The best revenge is revenge against harmless small children. (The next best revenge is when someone who is always right - and I know many of them - has to admit in front of other people that you were right and they were wrong. This happens far less often that I would like.)
Anyway, after our exhilarating hike - and it was, I worked up a bit of a sweat and definitely met my target heart rate at least once - we walked back to the car and headed off for a nice lunch with ice cream for dessert. I was also able to give Brett the box of Girl Scout Cookies I had bought for him, which made us both happy.
And I have a picture of the Cliffs of Insanity taped to my hutch at work to remind me that I actually climbed those rocks. And lived to tell the tale.
*It was a beautiful day, just as advertised. Don't worry - this isn't some kind of foreshadowing.
**I'm also not really a fan of small, enclosed underwater spaces.
***Truthfully, she had a prior commitment to help with some pre-Easter Spring cleaning at her church, but that's not what Brett said. Not does it make the best story.
**** I know, not very original, but it seemed pretty accurate to me.
- Maj. Gen. William Phillips, as his men brought cannon to the top of Mt. Defiance in 1777
On Friday I got a nice e-mail from Brett saying that he and son Charles would be hiking Section A of the Billy Goat Trail on Saturday morning and would David and I like to go? David was nursing a case of the sniffles, but I was free and so I rounded up my hiking shoes and we met up at the Visitor's Center.
In general, the best way to get me to do something is to make the information about the activity available and then assume that I won't actually look things up or figure out what I'm getting myself in for.
Like, for instance, that time we were at DisneyWorld and - as I hadn't read up on any of rides, a rather interesting choice for someone who is afraid of heights and has a poor sense of balance - I wandered blithely past the sign saying how tall, how not pregnant, and how free of heart conditions one must be to go on the ride. In fact, I believe that my exact comment as I sashayed by was "Oh, I'm definitely that tall. I'm more than that tall." La, la, la.
And just as I realized that I was in line for a roller coaster and started to try to figure out how to get out of line, Brett, Stacey, and John started telling me that we were in line for the Happy Train to Mickey's Birthday Land or something. I'm not all that bright sometimes, so even that didn't actually cause me to realize what was up. Or rather, way up. And once I did, they just hustled me on board cheerfully talking over my pitiful cries for help.
Not that the DislandWorld folks were going to rush to my rescue; they found the whole thing hilarious. Humphf. I am so put upon.
So anyway, yeah, all I knew when I signed on was that Brett would be there and Charles and that we would be outside on what was supposed to be a beautiful day.* So I followed the link that Brett sent and confirmed that, yep, the visitors' center was the one that I was thinking it was, and went on about my business. I suspect that Brett could invite me to spend six months with his family in a bathysphere**, send me the plans for the vehicle and a list of necessary supplies and health warnings and my brain would file it thus: Brett! Charles! Cate! Something about the beach!
Cate, sadly, couldn't join us this time because she would rather scrub floors than go hiking with me.***
So on Saturday, we met up at the visitor's center and set off on our hike. The first part, which is, well, which is the tow path is very easy. Then the trail breaks right and we leave what's pretty much a semi-paved road and start scrambling over little rocks. No sweat, I can do this. Just keep alert so that I don't turn an ankle and I'll be fine. Heck, this is probably good for my knees! La, la, la.
Then the rocks started to get bigger. To turn into boulders, actually. Around this time, Charles started scrambling up them and announcing how easy they were, which was almost precisely not what I was thinking. The boulders looked like this:
Around the time that the boulders were getting big enough to make me hope that Section A is a loop and that I wouldn't have to meet these rocks coming back the other way, we came round a bit of trail and I saw this:
The Wikipedia caption for the photo calls it the "Billy Goat Trail Cliff." After I got to the top of it, I named it the Cliffs of Insanity**** and began to hope in earnest that we were on a loop. We were and the Cliffs of Insanity was the most "strenuous" part of the trip.
And as I got used to scrambling I got better at it. Not great, but better. I stopped overthinking every step and just took them. And I started treating the relatively flat tops of the boulders more like sidewalks and less like tightropes. It's possible that I am the only person who noticed this blossoming surefootedness, but it still made me feel better.
Especially as while Brett is one of the best people you can have at your side for this sort of thing - supportive, non-judgmental, patient - Charles is, after all, ten years old and being better at things than adults is like getting two desserts and no green vegetables for dinner. So it made him pretty happy to tell me about every blaze he beat me to (most of them) and every rock he climbed better than I did (prett' near all of them).
At one point he was outlining his system for continuing to destroy me, blaze-wise, and I pointed out to Brett that Charles seemed to follow the example of the sort of criminals that Batman always sends back to prison because they'd rather talk about their plan than actually kill Batman. "Yep," agreed Brett, "he's a monologuer." Of course, your average Batman villain stands more or less in place while monologuing and Charles can do it while scampering up a boulder pile in a way that reminds you why both children and young goats are called kids.
I will be revenged, however. Some day Charles and I will be lost in the trackless desert or shipwrecked or something and my contribution will be to smirk and say "Oh, you're so smart -- you get us home" and then go back to reading whatever script was in my purse when the disaster happened. I'm kind of looking forward to this, actually. The best revenge is revenge against harmless small children. (The next best revenge is when someone who is always right - and I know many of them - has to admit in front of other people that you were right and they were wrong. This happens far less often that I would like.)
Anyway, after our exhilarating hike - and it was, I worked up a bit of a sweat and definitely met my target heart rate at least once - we walked back to the car and headed off for a nice lunch with ice cream for dessert. I was also able to give Brett the box of Girl Scout Cookies I had bought for him, which made us both happy.
And I have a picture of the Cliffs of Insanity taped to my hutch at work to remind me that I actually climbed those rocks. And lived to tell the tale.
*It was a beautiful day, just as advertised. Don't worry - this isn't some kind of foreshadowing.
**I'm also not really a fan of small, enclosed underwater spaces.
***Truthfully, she had a prior commitment to help with some pre-Easter Spring cleaning at her church, but that's not what Brett said. Not does it make the best story.
**** I know, not very original, but it seemed pretty accurate to me.
04 March 2008
For Noah
I have to watch tv on Sunday evening.
Especially as I think I recognized someone in the trailer.
So unless you're Johnny Depp, I'm not taking your call during the show.*
With thanks to Silver Spring, Singular
*Some exceptions possible, but I wouldn't count on it.
Especially as I think I recognized someone in the trailer.
So unless you're Johnny Depp, I'm not taking your call during the show.*
With thanks to Silver Spring, Singular
*Some exceptions possible, but I wouldn't count on it.
22 February 2008
Mmmmm syrup
What I don't understand is why I wasn't contacted regarding being Miss Maple Syrup. After all I do for those saps.
Maple Sugar Festival
Maple Sugar Festival
11 February 2008
Finally, a reason I can get behind
One of my complaints about our political system is how abundantly clear it is made that I don't matter. Nor, I realize, does anyone I know. (Well, except possibly Dan the Sports Mogul.) I don't have thousands of dollars to contribute and I don't have the will to band together other contributors to collect thousands of dollars. (And for what? To be ignored in the future? Giving money to politicians is like buying drinks for women who are way out of your league - sure, they're happy to accept but you're still not gonna score. And they'll chuckle about it later. If they remember it at all.)
So I don't have any money to give them and I live in a safely Democratic state. We don't see politicians around here unless ... well, I can't think of an unless. We don't see them. For which, really, I am rather grateful, actually. Think how hellish it is to live in Iowa if you aren't one of the 5 or 6 percent of the population* who actually caucuses.
I haven't gotten around to changing my voter registration from D to I, so I'm still morally obliged turn up for what this year will actually be a primary that will help to decide who our candidate will be. The "Potomac Primary," to be held on February 12, will be comprised of the three places where at least half of the people whom I know live: Maryland, DC, and Virginia.
And so the candidates - the few remaining** - turned their basilisk stare to us. I shudder. I really do.
So here's the sitch: Of the five candidates left standing as of today,*** I would be reasonably content with three of them. I live in a state with a closed primary, so I'm not allowed to vote for one of the three. Of the remaining two that leaves me, I'm fine with either of them. Frankly, I haven't been excited about a candidate since John Anderson and I was too young to vote for him. (Where have you gone, Harry Truman? Our nation turns its lonely eyes to you...) So that lessens an impetus to stand in line on Tuesday.
Except that my vote will actually count for something this time. Maybe.
And as there is - in the words of an elected official from Maryland that I was chatting with at brunch on Sunday - no daylight at all between HRC's and BHO's positions on most things, I'm going to have to decide based on externals.
And so, my criteria:
1. Ads. Just as public radio loses a dollar everything they call me thief or a mooch, a candidates lessens his or her changes of receiving my vote with everything ad I see and they lose an additional point for every negative ad. I've actually been home a little bit this week and had the tv on, so here's our "annoying Leta with ads score"
Clinton - minus 0.
Huckabee - minus 0.
McCain - minus 2. No negative ads.
Obama - minus 4. No negative ads.
Paul - minus 0.
2. Validating my hometown. I learned from Silver Spring, Singular that Obama's Montgomery County headquarters are in Silver Spring. On Georgia Avenue. In fact, his headquarters are prett' near the middle of a very oddly shaped geometric-ish figure comprised of: the house I grew up in, my elementary school, current home, office, high school, junior high (yuck), and home theater.
Clinton's are in .... Bethesda.
So that's points for Barack. I'm not sure how many, but definitely points.
I'll spend Tuesday trying to figure out which lever I'll pull (so to speak, no way of telling what voting system we'll be using) and I'll probably vote at the end of the day.
This time I may keep my ballot receipts as historic souvenirs.
* That number not made up.
** Did I mention that Marylanders don't matter? Most of the candidates have already gone home.
So I don't have any money to give them and I live in a safely Democratic state. We don't see politicians around here unless ... well, I can't think of an unless. We don't see them. For which, really, I am rather grateful, actually. Think how hellish it is to live in Iowa if you aren't one of the 5 or 6 percent of the population* who actually caucuses.
I haven't gotten around to changing my voter registration from D to I, so I'm still morally obliged turn up for what this year will actually be a primary that will help to decide who our candidate will be. The "Potomac Primary," to be held on February 12, will be comprised of the three places where at least half of the people whom I know live: Maryland, DC, and Virginia.
And so the candidates - the few remaining** - turned their basilisk stare to us. I shudder. I really do.
So here's the sitch: Of the five candidates left standing as of today,*** I would be reasonably content with three of them. I live in a state with a closed primary, so I'm not allowed to vote for one of the three. Of the remaining two that leaves me, I'm fine with either of them. Frankly, I haven't been excited about a candidate since John Anderson and I was too young to vote for him. (Where have you gone, Harry Truman? Our nation turns its lonely eyes to you...) So that lessens an impetus to stand in line on Tuesday.
Except that my vote will actually count for something this time. Maybe.
And as there is - in the words of an elected official from Maryland that I was chatting with at brunch on Sunday - no daylight at all between HRC's and BHO's positions on most things, I'm going to have to decide based on externals.
And so, my criteria:
1. Ads. Just as public radio loses a dollar everything they call me thief or a mooch, a candidates lessens his or her changes of receiving my vote with everything ad I see and they lose an additional point for every negative ad. I've actually been home a little bit this week and had the tv on, so here's our "annoying Leta with ads score"
Clinton - minus 0.
Huckabee - minus 0.
McCain - minus 2. No negative ads.
Obama - minus 4. No negative ads.
Paul - minus 0.
2. Validating my hometown. I learned from Silver Spring, Singular that Obama's Montgomery County headquarters are in Silver Spring. On Georgia Avenue. In fact, his headquarters are prett' near the middle of a very oddly shaped geometric-ish figure comprised of: the house I grew up in, my elementary school, current home, office, high school, junior high (yuck), and home theater.
Clinton's are in .... Bethesda.
So that's points for Barack. I'm not sure how many, but definitely points.
I'll spend Tuesday trying to figure out which lever I'll pull (so to speak, no way of telling what voting system we'll be using) and I'll probably vote at the end of the day.
This time I may keep my ballot receipts as historic souvenirs.
* That number not made up.
** Did I mention that Marylanders don't matter? Most of the candidates have already gone home.
*** With Romney having headed home and Ron Paul still soldiering on.
05 December 2007
Come dancing
Define worth dancing to...
The theme to "Speed Racer" or "Linus and Lucy";
The choral section of the 9th Symphony; and
prett' near anything up-tempo with a good, strong beat.
What about dancing for...?
"Worth dancing for" is so much easier: Weddings, babies, joy, and love.
(From a recent e-mail with a friend, his questions, my answers)
None of those pieces of music got played but I still went dancing Sunday night. I know - many of you just re-read that first sentence and thought "Odd, I didn't hear anything on the news about widespread destruction and panic." Maybe it made the later editions.
The way that I ended up dancing was easy - Greykell (yes, the Greykell!) and I went to see The Foreigner that afternoon and we were hanging out at her place afterwards. She asked what I was doing later and I said that if I was smart, I'd go home and highlight the rest of my lines for Arcadia.
Did I want to go Oella Dancing instead? I didn't know for sure what "Oella Dancing" was but Grey's not the loud, hot, crowded club type any more than I am, so I knew that it wouldn't be that. And Grey and I know several people who ballroom dance, so there was a good chance that Oella Dancing would involve some or all of them.
I dithered for a little bit while Aly whispered "Go dancing" in a subliminal kind of way. And so I agreed to go.
I haven't been dancing of really any kind in years. I haven't even done any shows with choreography in them in forever. And I'm not a very good dancer between the imperfect knees and the inability to translate patterned movement from my brain to my feet. But my partners (Larry, and Dave, and Dark Eric) were kind and we whirled around the floor in one-steps (walking to a melody, more or less) and waltzes and swing dance-y things. It was lovely.
For years and years the only dances I could execute at all well (besides my specialty, desk dancing) were:
the Highland Fling (taught me to at YMCA camp before my knees went south);
the grapevine/Hora;
and a waltz.
For Pippin long years ago Lorrainebeat into me taught me to do a scissor step, but I don't think that I've retained it. In fact, I know I haven't retained it. But after repeated, random exposure, I'm starting to kind of pick up the elements of some swing dances.
And in college I was in what I thought of as "Grey's dance troupe." No, really, I was. Really. Grey is about the only person I know who can consistently talk me into dancing. Actually, Grey used a couple extra dice when she made her charisma roll, so she can talk prett' near anyone into prett' near anything. So I was in Markland's dance troupe, Thrir Venstri Foetr* for several years and actually did exhibition dancing. You know, for the public. Where they could see me.
Fortunately, medieval dancing (back when I learned it, when it was contemporary dancing, I guess) comes in more or less two categories -- the pavanne (or pavane - the double n spelling seems to be specific to Markland, but it's pronounced puh-VAH-n) which is the "ooh, look at my pretty dress" stately dance and the bransle (pronounced "brawl") which is the "let's shout, get sweaty, and drink more beer" vigorous dance. (There are also the steps to "Scotland the Brave," and while it is my personal favorite, this girl was never a serious candidate to learn that dance - too much jump and pivot, you know?)
So dancing reasonably competently on Sunday was just a delight. Like most of the things that Greykell suggests doing. I must go again sometime. Soon.
And, by the way, it's called "Oella Dancing" because it happens in Oella, Maryland which is reached by driving on the sorts of swoopy roads that are like dancing in themselves.
*Forgotten our Old Norse, have we? Three Left Feet.
And from (of course) Hello, Dolly! the song that sums up the evening.
Dolly:
Put your hand on her waist and stand
With her right in your left hand
And one two three, one two three, one two three...
Cornelius:
Look I'm dancing!
Well, I was.
Dolly:
Of course you were, Mr. Hackl!
Take the someone whose arms you're in
Hold onto her tight and spin
And one two three, one two three, one two three...
Cornelius:
Wow, I'm dancing!
Dolly:
Turn around and turn around, try floating through the air
Can't you be a little more aesthetic?
Cornelius:
Don't you think my dancing has a polish and a flair?
Dolly:
The word I think I'd use is athletic!
Cornelius:
Well my heart is about to burst
My head is about to pop
And now that I'm dancing who cares if I ever stop!
...Look at me, everybody! I, Cornelius Hackl...Sport
...Am dancing!
Dolly:
You're next, Mr. Tucker!
Glide and step and then step and glide...
Barnaby:
And everyone stand aside!
Cornelius:
He's dancing!
Dolly:
You could learn to polka if you worked a week or so
Or the tango filled with passion seething
Barnaby:
I might join the chorus of the castle garden show
Dolly:
Whatever you do for gosh shakes keep breathing
Barnaby, Dolly and Cornelius:
For my heart is about to burst
My head is about to pop
And now that I'm dancing who cares if I ever stop!
Mrs. Molloy:
When there's someone you hardly know
But wish you were closer to
Remember that he can be near to you
While you're dancing
Though you've only just said "hello"
He's suddenly someone who
Can make all your daydreams appear to you
While you're dancing
Make the music weave a spell
Whirl away your worry
Things look almost twice as well
When you're slightly blurry
Dolly:
As around and around you go
Your spirits will hit the top
Dolly, Cornelius, & Mrs. Molloy:
And now that we're dancing
Who cares if we ever stop
Mrs. Molloy, Barnaby, Dolly and Cornelius:
One-two-three
One-two-three
One-two
And now that we're dancing
Who cares if we ever stop
The theme to "Speed Racer" or "Linus and Lucy";
The choral section of the 9th Symphony; and
prett' near anything up-tempo with a good, strong beat.
What about dancing for...?
"Worth dancing for" is so much easier: Weddings, babies, joy, and love.
(From a recent e-mail with a friend, his questions, my answers)
None of those pieces of music got played but I still went dancing Sunday night. I know - many of you just re-read that first sentence and thought "Odd, I didn't hear anything on the news about widespread destruction and panic." Maybe it made the later editions.
The way that I ended up dancing was easy - Greykell (yes, the Greykell!) and I went to see The Foreigner that afternoon and we were hanging out at her place afterwards. She asked what I was doing later and I said that if I was smart, I'd go home and highlight the rest of my lines for Arcadia.
Did I want to go Oella Dancing instead? I didn't know for sure what "Oella Dancing" was but Grey's not the loud, hot, crowded club type any more than I am, so I knew that it wouldn't be that. And Grey and I know several people who ballroom dance, so there was a good chance that Oella Dancing would involve some or all of them.
I dithered for a little bit while Aly whispered "Go dancing" in a subliminal kind of way. And so I agreed to go.
I haven't been dancing of really any kind in years. I haven't even done any shows with choreography in them in forever. And I'm not a very good dancer between the imperfect knees and the inability to translate patterned movement from my brain to my feet. But my partners (Larry, and Dave, and Dark Eric) were kind and we whirled around the floor in one-steps (walking to a melody, more or less) and waltzes and swing dance-y things. It was lovely.
For years and years the only dances I could execute at all well (besides my specialty, desk dancing) were:
the Highland Fling (taught me to at YMCA camp before my knees went south);
the grapevine/Hora;
and a waltz.
For Pippin long years ago Lorraine
And in college I was in what I thought of as "Grey's dance troupe." No, really, I was. Really. Grey is about the only person I know who can consistently talk me into dancing. Actually, Grey used a couple extra dice when she made her charisma roll, so she can talk prett' near anyone into prett' near anything. So I was in Markland's dance troupe, Thrir Venstri Foetr* for several years and actually did exhibition dancing. You know, for the public. Where they could see me.
Fortunately, medieval dancing (back when I learned it, when it was contemporary dancing, I guess) comes in more or less two categories -- the pavanne (or pavane - the double n spelling seems to be specific to Markland, but it's pronounced puh-VAH-n) which is the "ooh, look at my pretty dress" stately dance and the bransle (pronounced "brawl") which is the "let's shout, get sweaty, and drink more beer" vigorous dance. (There are also the steps to "Scotland the Brave," and while it is my personal favorite, this girl was never a serious candidate to learn that dance - too much jump and pivot, you know?)
So dancing reasonably competently on Sunday was just a delight. Like most of the things that Greykell suggests doing. I must go again sometime. Soon.
And, by the way, it's called "Oella Dancing" because it happens in Oella, Maryland which is reached by driving on the sorts of swoopy roads that are like dancing in themselves.
*Forgotten our Old Norse, have we? Three Left Feet.
And from (of course) Hello, Dolly! the song that sums up the evening.
Dolly:
Put your hand on her waist and stand
With her right in your left hand
And one two three, one two three, one two three...
Cornelius:
Look I'm dancing!
Well, I was.
Dolly:
Of course you were, Mr. Hackl!
Take the someone whose arms you're in
Hold onto her tight and spin
And one two three, one two three, one two three...
Cornelius:
Wow, I'm dancing!
Dolly:
Turn around and turn around, try floating through the air
Can't you be a little more aesthetic?
Cornelius:
Don't you think my dancing has a polish and a flair?
Dolly:
The word I think I'd use is athletic!
Cornelius:
Well my heart is about to burst
My head is about to pop
And now that I'm dancing who cares if I ever stop!
...Look at me, everybody! I, Cornelius Hackl...Sport
...Am dancing!
Dolly:
You're next, Mr. Tucker!
Glide and step and then step and glide...
Barnaby:
And everyone stand aside!
Cornelius:
He's dancing!
Dolly:
You could learn to polka if you worked a week or so
Or the tango filled with passion seething
Barnaby:
I might join the chorus of the castle garden show
Dolly:
Whatever you do for gosh shakes keep breathing
Barnaby, Dolly and Cornelius:
For my heart is about to burst
My head is about to pop
And now that I'm dancing who cares if I ever stop!
Mrs. Molloy:
When there's someone you hardly know
But wish you were closer to
Remember that he can be near to you
While you're dancing
Though you've only just said "hello"
He's suddenly someone who
Can make all your daydreams appear to you
While you're dancing
Make the music weave a spell
Whirl away your worry
Things look almost twice as well
When you're slightly blurry
Dolly:
As around and around you go
Your spirits will hit the top
Dolly, Cornelius, & Mrs. Molloy:
And now that we're dancing
Who cares if we ever stop
Mrs. Molloy, Barnaby, Dolly and Cornelius:
One-two-three
One-two-three
One-two
And now that we're dancing
Who cares if we ever stop
12 November 2007
When I marry
My friend, Bill, proposed today (one of the reasons that I so enjoy reading my e-mail) and I accepted and we have decided to run off together. He suggested Reno, but I have countered with Elkton, Maryland, the American Gretna Green. It was so famous for being an elopement destination that it even gets a mention in David's current project, Guys and Dolls.*
Of course, Bill and I are both theater people, so we'll have to find a time when neither of us has a show up or in heavy rehearsal, which could be rather a challenge. His current show is down December 3rd, so it'll have to be after that. But not on the 9th, as that's David's and my anniversary and I'm sure we'll have a date that night.
*Adelaide: (sighs) Gee, wouldn't it be wonderful it we could be married tomorrow night. Right after the show at the Hot Box.
Nathan Detroit: Adelaide, we need time for a license --
Officer Brannigan: You could elope.
Nathan Detroit: What?
Officer Brannigan: You can drive down to Maryland – what's the name of that town?
Benny Southstreet: Pimlico.
Officer Brannigan: Not Pimlico, no, Nathan, Elkton. They'll marry you right away. They don't ask you for a blood test.
Nathan Detroit: Ain't that unhealthy?
Of course, Bill and I are both theater people, so we'll have to find a time when neither of us has a show up or in heavy rehearsal, which could be rather a challenge. His current show is down December 3rd, so it'll have to be after that. But not on the 9th, as that's David's and my anniversary and I'm sure we'll have a date that night.
Your mother and I both got married. But we didn’t drop more important things to do it. Marriage isn’t a career. It’s an incident! Aubrey Cavendish and I were married in the Church of St. Mary Redcliffe, in Bristol, England, just before the matinée. The wedding supper was served on the stage of the Theatre Royale between the matinée and night performance – we played “She Stoops to Conquer” in the afternoon, and “A Scrap of Paper” was the night bill. They sent the supper in from the George and Lion next door, and very nice it was, too, but I remember they’d gone and put nutmeg in the gooseberry tarts, and Aubrey could never abide nutmeg. It must have been that that upset him for he gave the only bad performance that night that I ever saw him give.Fanny Cavendish in The Royal Family by Edna Ferber and George S. Kauffman
*Adelaide: (sighs) Gee, wouldn't it be wonderful it we could be married tomorrow night. Right after the show at the Hot Box.
Nathan Detroit: Adelaide, we need time for a license --
Officer Brannigan: You could elope.
Nathan Detroit: What?
Officer Brannigan: You can drive down to Maryland – what's the name of that town?
Benny Southstreet: Pimlico.
Officer Brannigan: Not Pimlico, no, Nathan, Elkton. They'll marry you right away. They don't ask you for a blood test.
Nathan Detroit: Ain't that unhealthy?
23 October 2007
What to do, what to do
How do I fill the strangely empty evenings now that I don't have rehearsal until 10:30 (or, oy, later) in another state? (Or commonwealth. Maryland is a state. Virginia is a commonwealth, along with its fellow travellers Massachusetts, Pennsylvania, and Kentucky. Maryland is very aware that we have commonweals on two borders.*) Um. Where was I? Oh! Right! Right.
I have dinner dates! Let's review this week for instance:
Sunday - John & Eleanor
Monday - Tommy!
Tuesday - Mattie
Wednesday - Julie (unless we have to reschedule)
Thursday - Dave
Friday, of course, I'll be at the theater. Same for Saturday. And, uhm, Sunday. But next week is also looking pretty good for dining with pals, so if you want to get onto my calendar, drop me a note!
Long years ago the delightful and talented John** and I realized that our annual salaries were a mere $30 apart and we agreed that if he took me out for a $30 dinner, universal harmony would be restored. Every now and then we'd do another paystub comparison and for a while there if we were to bring things par, I'd have had to haven taken him to dinner in Tokyo, so I'd always shift our date into the future. Ditto when he would have had to have taken me to Prague. We (John, Stacey, plus or minus Sam and Garrett) have, of course, had many lovely dinners together since then, all of them worth far more to me than $30.
And I'll start auditioning again shortly, so I guess this is a limited time offer. Act now! Volunteers are standing by!
*Note to self - Try to be more emphatic about this. Possibly with underlining or boldfacing. Or capitaliziation.
**Who is, oddly enough, John's brother-in-law. They are both named John because I met them during the John Regime before the David Junta took over.
I have dinner dates! Let's review this week for instance:
Sunday - John & Eleanor
Monday - Tommy!
Tuesday - Mattie
Wednesday - Julie (unless we have to reschedule)
Thursday - Dave
Friday, of course, I'll be at the theater. Same for Saturday. And, uhm, Sunday. But next week is also looking pretty good for dining with pals, so if you want to get onto my calendar, drop me a note!
Long years ago the delightful and talented John** and I realized that our annual salaries were a mere $30 apart and we agreed that if he took me out for a $30 dinner, universal harmony would be restored. Every now and then we'd do another paystub comparison and for a while there if we were to bring things par, I'd have had to haven taken him to dinner in Tokyo, so I'd always shift our date into the future. Ditto when he would have had to have taken me to Prague. We (John, Stacey, plus or minus Sam and Garrett) have, of course, had many lovely dinners together since then, all of them worth far more to me than $30.
And I'll start auditioning again shortly, so I guess this is a limited time offer. Act now! Volunteers are standing by!
*Note to self - Try to be more emphatic about this. Possibly with underlining or boldfacing. Or capitaliziation.
**Who is, oddly enough, John's brother-in-law. They are both named John because I met them during the John Regime before the David Junta took over.
18 March 2007
Mrs. Surratt?
As noted in the sidebar, I'll be playing Mary Surratt in Rich's play The Judicial Murder of Mrs. Surratt, which we'll be performing near the actual Surratt House for the Surratt House Museum Conference. As a bit of a history buff myself my biggest concern isn't overacting or messing up the lines (as he is also our director, we'll let those be Rich's concerns about me), it's playing someone that everyone in the room knows better than I do. Shakespeare and G&S audiences are often off-book, but the actor still has a few advantages. That may not be so here.
I remember when I was young and the "Little House" books were turned into a tv movie and then a series. Literalist that I am, I was dismayed at all the things that they got "wrong." The absence of Pa's beard was just one of those things and probably the most minor. Like almost every historical tv series, Little House was a modern family dressed in old clothes, so these erstaz Ingallses had all the beliefs and opinions of 1970s California rather than 1870s Kansas. The only characters that seemed true to the books were the awful Olson family. The show lost my interest pretty quickly. And don't even get me started on Doctor Quinn, Medicine Chick.
My job with this play is to tell the story of a woman who may or may not have been complicit in the assassination of Abraham Lincoln, but whose only bargaining chip with the prosecutors is the whereabouts (if she knows them) of her son. And, like every Tennessee Williams heroine, she doesn't help herself much with her stubborn belief that she can control events by clinging to how a well-bred lady expects to be treated. (Clearly, she hasn't seen as much Law and Order as I have.) She's trying to win a chess game in which the opposition has a full board and she has two pawns.
But if what I do while I'm moving and talking violates what the audience knows about 19th century women in general and Mary Surratt in specific, it won't necesssarily matter how well I translate the story. And while mine is the title story, it's not the only one we're playing. If Johnny's whereabouts are Mary's only chip, they are also the chip that the prosecution most wants to win. Mary was less a chess player and more a pawn in her own story.
Oy.
"Oy," of course, is a word that 19th century, country-girl, Catholic Mary would not grok at all. And she actually says things like "I declare," which is just as foreign to me.
Not sure how I'm going to accomplish this yet. Wish me luck.
I remember when I was young and the "Little House" books were turned into a tv movie and then a series. Literalist that I am, I was dismayed at all the things that they got "wrong." The absence of Pa's beard was just one of those things and probably the most minor. Like almost every historical tv series, Little House was a modern family dressed in old clothes, so these erstaz Ingallses had all the beliefs and opinions of 1970s California rather than 1870s Kansas. The only characters that seemed true to the books were the awful Olson family. The show lost my interest pretty quickly. And don't even get me started on Doctor Quinn, Medicine Chick.
My job with this play is to tell the story of a woman who may or may not have been complicit in the assassination of Abraham Lincoln, but whose only bargaining chip with the prosecutors is the whereabouts (if she knows them) of her son. And, like every Tennessee Williams heroine, she doesn't help herself much with her stubborn belief that she can control events by clinging to how a well-bred lady expects to be treated. (Clearly, she hasn't seen as much Law and Order as I have.) She's trying to win a chess game in which the opposition has a full board and she has two pawns.
But if what I do while I'm moving and talking violates what the audience knows about 19th century women in general and Mary Surratt in specific, it won't necesssarily matter how well I translate the story. And while mine is the title story, it's not the only one we're playing. If Johnny's whereabouts are Mary's only chip, they are also the chip that the prosecution most wants to win. Mary was less a chess player and more a pawn in her own story.
Oy.
"Oy," of course, is a word that 19th century, country-girl, Catholic Mary would not grok at all. And she actually says things like "I declare," which is just as foreign to me.
Not sure how I'm going to accomplish this yet. Wish me luck.
14 March 2005
How to generate calls to a radio station
Jeff Custer obviously didn't grow up around here. In the news update at the top of the hour, he referred to the Wicomico River, which he pronounced Wye-koh-mee-koh. If I were handed a piece of paper, a four-syllable word, and a microphone, I'd probably have the same swing-and-a-miss as Mr. Custer, so I'm not sneering here, but I'm sure that there will be a couple of dozen calls to the station to let him know that the river in question is pronounced "Wye-kom-uh-koh."
David and I have an on-going collection of place name Shibboleths. We recently saw Proof at the Stage and there's a little landmine in that script. Folks familiar with Chicago will know that the street is deh-ver-see, not die-ver-see. Casey got it right, but other local actors may not be so lucky.
Another name that trips up the new folks is a building at my alma mater, the University of Maryland. When I was there, the English Department was housed in Taliaferro Hall, pronounced Tolliver.
Brett, Stacey, Michael, Ken, and other former residents of Hawaii have all told me that the tourist Shibboleth there is the Like Like Highway. Beat me to the punch? Yep, it's pronounced Lee-kee Lee-kee, not Like Like.
I know someone whose last name is Sher. Four letters, one syllable. Pronounced shhh-er, just like it looks. I've heard "share" and "sheer" and a couple of other choices recently.
I know that anyone calling for "Let-uh" isn't a friend of mine. My friends and family all say "Lee-dah."
So what gets mis-pronounced in your areas?
(And please - please - tell me that Karen Hughes said that she had lived "overseas, and in Canada, and in ...." rather than "overseas in Canada and in..." as I heard. Please.)
David and I have an on-going collection of place name Shibboleths. We recently saw Proof at the Stage and there's a little landmine in that script. Folks familiar with Chicago will know that the street is deh-ver-see, not die-ver-see. Casey got it right, but other local actors may not be so lucky.
Another name that trips up the new folks is a building at my alma mater, the University of Maryland. When I was there, the English Department was housed in Taliaferro Hall, pronounced Tolliver.
Brett, Stacey, Michael, Ken, and other former residents of Hawaii have all told me that the tourist Shibboleth there is the Like Like Highway. Beat me to the punch? Yep, it's pronounced Lee-kee Lee-kee, not Like Like.
I know someone whose last name is Sher. Four letters, one syllable. Pronounced shhh-er, just like it looks. I've heard "share" and "sheer" and a couple of other choices recently.
I know that anyone calling for "Let-uh" isn't a friend of mine. My friends and family all say "Lee-dah."
So what gets mis-pronounced in your areas?
(And please - please - tell me that Karen Hughes said that she had lived "overseas, and in Canada, and in ...." rather than "overseas in Canada and in..." as I heard. Please.)
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