"For the world has changed, and we must change with it."

Obama Poster BW, originally uploaded by hyperakt.

20 January 2009

A Genius Idea That Works

Did you wonder whether anyone else would donate to Planned Parenthood on behalf of Sarah Palin? If you did donate, you were not alone. See below from Leah Garchik at SF Gate/SF Chronicle (http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2008/09/29/DDEF134FFD.DTL)

"For a few weeks, advocates of choice have been using e-mail to announce a nationwide campaign for donations to be sent to Planned Parenthood in Sarah Palin's name. I checked with PP representatives, who said that as of Friday, the organization had received $763,350, from 29,609 individuals in all 50 states. More than two-thirds of that money came from first-time donors."

If you didn't donate, check out the Genius Idea blog I previously posted and join the fun! It's not too late. The thought of Sarah Palin receiving 29,609 thank you notes from Planned Parenthood is quite satisfying.

A Genius Idea

This is genius. Thanks to a good friend in the great city of SF who sent this to me.

Please consider making a donation to Planned Parenthood in Sarah Palin's name. A Planned Parenthood donation is tax deductible, while a political donation isn't. You'll be helping a good cause and even better, PP will send Palin a card telling her of the donation made in her honor! Planned Parenthood http://www.plannedparenthood.org/ > Donate > Honorary Gifts > "in Sarah Palin's honor".

A suggested address is the McCain campaign headquarters:
McCain for President
1235 South Clark Street, 1st Floor
Arlington, VA 22202

Body Count

Photo of tomb in St. Sulplice church in Paris from my Flickr photos

This week, something happened to Mark Saunders who lived on Markham Square in Chelsea, London. Whatever happened to him led to a shootout with the London police. This story did not have a happy ending. Mark Saunders died in the gun fight. His death is tragic, but also quite singluar because fatalities from police shootings are unusual in London. They are so unusual, in fact, that this article remarked:

It is thought that no one has been shot dead by Met Police officers since Brazilian Jean Charles de Menezes was gunned down at Stockwell Tube station in July 2005.

Compare the above to an NYPD statistic published in the New York Times two days after the Saunders shooting in an article entitled 11 Years of Police Gunfire, in Painstaking Detail (find it here):

The police fatally shot 13 people in 2006, compared with 30 people a decade before.

No fatal shootings at the hands of police in London in THREE years and 13 fatal shootings in New York in ONE year (big drop from 10 years ago, but still quite a difference). I don’t know what to make of these facts or how they can be reconciled. I cannot help but wonder what are the differences in culture, police training, gun laws and other factors that create such a staggering difference in statistics between two fairly similar cities? An old crim law professor of mine always said to look at the body count before anything else. I'm looking and and there's work to be done.

Gobsmacked!

Two phrases keep swimming in my mind of late.

The first, I saw while riding on the bus on the way to a friend's. I passed a Christian church whose billboard said: "Help God save His planet."

The incongruity of this phrase is truly mind numbing. Help God? The premise is: all-powerful, all-knowing -- no?

The second, was told to me by a friend who heard it first-hand. In response to being asked to assist with moving a table, an upper class Englishman said: "I wasn't born to move furniture. You were."

Now, if I could just replace these two phrases with an annoying song...

A Bittersweet Anniversary

Today is Earth Day. It's a bittersweet anniversary for me because 15 years ago today, Ulisse, the lovely orange and white kitty pictured above, found me on campus at Monmouth University. Ulisse died of kidney disease two weeks ago.

I was working at the tutoring center, which was housed in one of those prefab temporary structures - somewhat like trailers - that sit on raised wooden platforms about a foot off the ground. The base of the structure used to be open, but some weeks earlier, the good men at the maintenance department thought best to board it up with lattice boards with small openings. They didn't realize that they had boarded up access to the outside for a mother cat and her kittens. One day, I heard the cat and the kittens crying and, with the help of other students, we pried open a few of the boards, rescued the cat and kittens and promptly found homes for them. Ulisse wasn't among those kittens that day.

On that Earth Day, I was again working at the tutoring center. I was sitting in a room by myself, reading, when I suddenly heard a very distinct meow. Immediately, I thought that the boards had been reaffixed and another cat had gotten trapped. So, I rushed out, looked where we had removed the boards and saw they were still free. I crouched and peered in. A few feet away was a tiny, sweet kitten with huge eyes. He saw me and meowed loudly.
I suspected he was hungry, so I asked a friend what she had in her lunch bag. She had a turkey sandwich. We both thought that tempting the little kitten with a bit of turkey was a good idea; little did I know that turkey breast would be one of Uli's favorite meals for the rest of his life.

Well, the kitten made his way over. He was small and thin. I thought he must have been the runt of the litter. Little did I know that he would heft up to 18lbs at his heaviest, 14" from paw to shoulder and 25" from end to end sort of stretched out. I called my dad and he didn't refuse my bringing him home.

I picked him up and pretty much never let go until two weeks ago.

Thanks for finding me, Uli. We miss you.

Bikinis, Wheels, Psalms and Trousers

Positano 59 -"bikini" debut, originally uploaded by agedsenator.

There is a Flickr member named Agedsenator who has a fabulous collection of photos of Naples and its environs that he took in the 1950s . His photos show me a Naples whose remnants I saw whilst growing up there, but whose full glory and drama I only heard about from long-gone relatives.

His photos are poetic, thrilling, exotic, funny, moving and melancholy. They are always filled with history, heart and soul and often look like a still from an Italian realist film. Take this one, for example - a beautiful photo of a beautiful woman in a staggeringly beautiful place. It's taken on the beach in Positano in 1959 when the bikini had its debut on those beaches. He says that the debut caused quite a furore, including protests held on the small boardwalk on that beach (out of sight of this photo) by people dressed in black who were reciting prayers and psalms in condemnation.

It’s quite a photo and quite a story too. It reminded me of two stories from women in my life. The first is a story my mom told me about the first time she wore trousers in her small village in southern Italy. She purchased the woollen trousers from a catalogue so that she could ride her bike more easily. They arrived, she wore them and went out for a ride. Upon her return, she was punished severely and didn’t wear trousers for many years to come.

The second, comes from my paternal grandmother who purchased a car that she drove in her village and on trips to Naples or Rome. She told me people stopped in their tracks, did double takes, inveighed against her and all other now-bizarre behavior all because she was a woman driving a car. She wore trousers too.

So, here is a big cheer for Agedsenator, his wonderful photos of a strange and distant world and to women who dare to go against the grain.

Fairy Tale of London

How do you know it’s the Christmas season in London? Other than the calendar and the lights on Oxford Street, there are a few telltale signs. I want to share the most important ones with you.

First, the harbinger: like the first geese formations at the end of the summer signalling the start of winter or the comet over Bethlehem directing the three magi to the manger, there is nothing that lets one know of the warmth, love and festivity of this special season like vomit trails on the sidewalks. There they are scattered about like cutout snowflakes. Quite evocative.

Second, mince pie: mince – usually, this means ground beef – not at Christmas. It’s all so clear. At Christmas, these little pies are ubiquitous and people go bonkers over them. I’ve had a few and have never been pleased. Essentially, they are super thick crusted super-mini pies filled with a gooey mixture of raisins and other darkish things that is, in fact, called mince meat. I don’t understand or care for them, but they have an entry in Wikipedia. Maybe you will like them. Maybe they contribute to #1.

Third, mulled wine. This is good stuff and quite the merry making enabling libation. Warmed wine with spices. Nice and ubiquitous. Apparently, it goes well with mince pies and, of course, can lead you right back to #1.

Fourth, caroling: I love caroling. I can’t sing. It doesn’t matter. It’s Christmas. Museums host sing-alongs, churches (usually fairly empty) have well-attended lunchtime carol services, groups stand on random corners singing for charity, but the best part is that grown men in dark, pin-striped suits walk around The City in the middle of the day singing carols to themselves while they go pick up lunch. They sing when sober and all the more so post-Christmas party (then see #1).

Fifth, The Pogues: may Shane MacGowan live 1000 years. He is the last standing rock n’roll god. Heck of a show at the Brixton Academy. I sang my heart out along with everyone there. Check out OntoLondon’s review here. Now, sing it with me:

“The boys of the NYPD choir were singing Galway Bay
And the bells were ringing out
For Christmas Day.”

I'm off to below the Mason-Dixon. Happy Winter.