Ann T. Hathaway

1950's Ford Thunderbird

2011-06-04T09:45:00.001-04:00

Unbelievably pristine. I'm only sorry the photos don't do it justice.

One of my readers, Carolina Linthead, informed me there's a great song about this car. I looked it up on YouTube and Indeed it is a great song. The YouTube of the song is below the jump.

Exclusively at Ann T. Hathaway, You can watch Paint Dry

2011-06-04T09:20:00.000-04:00

And if this doesn't mean you dear readers are hanging in, I don't know what does.
But it reflects progress on the Daily Spackle. I am almost done painting the ceiling in my small flat--which I ALSO spackled!!! And the painting shows I did a good job--again, not perfect though.

The last sanding. It's not perfect, but it's close enough.

I just happened to have some primer, I forget why.
No doubt something about unfulfilled intentions.

Can you believe I lived with this? No More.

Primed and ready to paint.

When I finish that, I will start caulking in the kitchen. Then I will put real paint on the kitchen walls after that.
And since you have been so kind as to watch my paint dry, I will put something interesting up next time.

From the Inside Out: The Daily Spackle

2011-05-24T03:10:00.000-04:00

Every year in April or May I get the spring cleaning bug. This year I washed windows, as nearly always. I made a curtain and I am doing some house-painting and major scrubbing. I am also looking around at what I have and how I have not taken care of it. I mean, I wash dishes. But I haven't invested in my assets. I haven't had a plan.

I am not a big believer in buying the newest new thing, but I do think there's a point where the old stuff can get in the way. Perhaps this last few months has been about this, from the dentist to the baseboards. I also think I will never be the best of the householders, but I have always done a hell of a lot better than this.

Anyway, I don't remember when, but the refrigerator I always hated when I bought this flat finally conked out. It was too big: I had to edge past it every time I used the kitchen. I bought a new smaller one, which was perfect: 24 x 24" instead of 30 x 36". I did choose that properly. It is however taller than the old one. Therefore, I had to take a cabinet out.

I did it myself, no sweat. I had to: the delivery guys were coming.

You never saw such a mess as was hidden behind that cabinet. The plaster is fifty years old and broken, and studs were inset into the wall to hold the cabinet. They are exposed. Around them a 1/2" wide, irregular gully ran along the top and bottom of both of those impromptu studs. Just ick.

Home Improvement v. Solitary Confinement
My stronger, less cowardly self would have been onto that like white on rice. I would have been revved because I had the chance to consolidate the gains from the space-making refrigerator. Not this time. It just looked like another crisis. Maybe an ugly wall became a way to punish myself for getting something nice. Now how stupid is that.

Two years (or however long) later, I started spackling the plaster but couldn't sustain the effort. The spackle sat in the kitchen along with the putty knife for months--at least eight of them--because it was on the floor when my sister came to visit in September. Lately, I have returned to the daily spackle. I am almost done--a couple more layers. Then I will paint this offending patch of plaster with primer. I have some other major caulking to do. Then I will paint the whole kitchen.

So, I know I am not the only reluctant handyman on this earth. But I have to wonder, with the sheer number of items like this, WTF have I been thinking? I figure I am coming out of depression after all. That means it hurts to see how I have let things slide and damaged my life further by letting things go. Just down and down. After down and down, there has to be up and up. Living through the down and down was hard work. Coming through the up and up is a different kind of work.

Re-building
As I fix things, my outlook improves. Last year I was just trying to get out of the house. This year, I had the dental work which meant I had to do that part all over again. I put off the dental because I knew it would precipitate a crisis, but I didn't avoid a crisis anyway. I do think I was stronger for it this year than I would have been last year.

I also think this decline relates to unresolved grief. I had no plan. All I knew was that I couldn't let go because I hadn't resolved my husband's death. Nothing worked, nothing advanced, and then it started to fall apart.

Therapy works. So does a putty knife. Right now these things are inseparable. Right now I am working on having a place that reflects me and my taste but also my self-respect. A place where people can come in and see what I have to offer. With agoraphobia, I couldn't go outside. The flip side of my agoraphobia was also that no one could come in. Soon that will not be true. I will not have to be ashamed for letting things go. I will live again in an atmosphere of achievement.

It may look like hell, but this is MUCH improved. I've put two coats on since,
and I think two more are needed. Whatever it takes.

Not pictured: the 3-M sanding sponge I bought last week.
That sponge is making all the difference in the finishing
aspect of this wall!!!

I also rode my bicycle yesterday. But I had to hurry home and do some upkeep, so we were not out long. I have a list of forty things I want to get done. Forty steps toward getting my life back.

Drowned, Surrounded, Derailed, Disintegrated

2011-05-15T05:45:00.000-04:00

Dear Everyone,
I am having a tough time. Although it has been worse. Much worse. I am not going to whine to you, which is all I had for awhile. I think maybe I am starting to see better, and I have all this heavy lifting to do.

Zombie News
We almost had Colin Powell for a manager. He stayed six hours the first day and never came back.
I was buried in treasurer stuff. Even with all that (free) work, no one was happy.

Personal Relationships
Dear John, the Baker, accosted me in an elevator and then tried to ply me with chocolate. That was bad. It's a great story though, and I'll write it later.

Yes, I Floss and Always Have
In the space of a week, two of my teeth crumbled like granola in my mouth. I had dental surgery and lost five teeth. I was already down two, so now I am down seven. Ick! I now have had surgery, four bone grafts, multiple stitches and shunts and stuff. I have not been able to eat or go outside. I do have a temporary denture so that I don't scare small children. Before the year is out no one will ever know that this ever happened to me. However, in the meantime, I feel stuck in Road Construction. I mean Mouth construction.

No Drugs, Thanks
I decided that codeine was great stuff--too great--and pulled myself off of that--one minor addiction problem, probably a real codeine freak would laugh at me for how little of the stuff I took that week. But it did seem temptingly recreational. Advil is the answer--

Then I lost half of another tooth (repaired). One has been replaced and another will be replaced in two weeks. Last week they lasered my mouth. It smelled like a hot iron--Apocalypse Now! The horror!!

I'll be back, but not on the daily. I am behind on everything. I keep trying. Please do not give up on me. I know you probably should, but I keep hoping you won't.

On the plus side, I have new shoes and one new crown. Things are improving . . . . I miss you. I will be back.

January Roll Call

2011-02-02T02:05:00.000-05:00

Every month, the Ann T. Hathaway blog honors law enforcement officers who have died in the line of duty. January has been a particularly full month for those who protect us daily.
Please take a moment to consider the fallen, their families and friends, and their colleagues.

--Suzanne Hopper--John Norsworthy--Ralph Painter--

--William Torbit Jr.--Ryan Russell--Rogerio Morales--Kevin Marceau--

--Christopher Matlosz--Larry Nehasil--Tom Hayes--

--Roger Castillo--Amanda Haworth--Chuck Nesbitt Jr.--

--Tom Baitinger--Jeffrey Yaslowitz--David Moore--
--Casimiro Pomales--Jayme Biendl--

I learned about these officers from the Officer Down Memorial Page and Behind the Blue Line/Policing in Vancouver blog.

We May Have A Rock

2011-01-29T03:25:00.000-05:00

Tuesday we had a Board Meeting. I wrote three reports for it and analyzed all the financial data for the year, except for the Utility Bills, which I didn't quite finish. Mycroft went through every "Zombie To-Do List" that has been sent to us (or not) over the past two years and compiled a Master List of Items That Have Never Been Attended To. This was probably 500 repetitive pages, but he got it down to three.

Then we had Yet another meeting of the Condo Board Thursday. It was for Yet another round of Manager interviews. The first three were our top contenders on the list, and oh, were we disappointed! This time, we were all a little depressed, going for the "second choices."

On the first Round:
1. "Strict Machine" Diva who would have been great, except we can't afford her and she doesn't want to come here.
2. Young, bright, enthusiastic young man who would be eaten alive in two weeks. Nothing wrong with him. Everything wrong with us. He deserves to live.
3. Experienced, dynamic man who is not over the shock of losing his last job and talks more than the rest of the Board combined (how is this possible?)

Last night:

1. Cannonball who was all enthusiasm but never answered a damn question, although he talked a lot. He brought extra items for us to read, even, but none of them were anything we asked for. This would have been okay if he had actually brought what we DID ask for.
He needs some time with the Strict Machine above. (Zam, boom!) Not our guy. He was also young and would have been eaten alive, but less trainable than the other guy.

2. The Rock of Gibraltar. Very calm, answered our questions almost before we asked them. Stayed on point, said exactly what he meant, and stayed on schedule. Worked his way up in this field from a maintenance man, and then into a head position at a 14-story mixed-use condominium high-rise.

I kept imagining the surf of B.S. we have around here knocking him on the chest, only to be beaten back again while he still stood. This is a man with tight control. No hysteria from Zombie Assistant or any Board Member is going to keep him from using a method and imposing order.

3. Mr. Suavity: Well, he was our favorite going in. And upon impact, he's suave, charming--and arrogant. He was so sure he knew it all. Actually, I'm pretty sure he did. But he's a careless talker. "I'm not going to do it by myself," he said, which is true--it was just the way he said it. (Halfway through the interview, I was just writing quotes that made me mad.) He talked about "disguising his weaknesses" "stealing knowledge" and about preparing the Board for a meeting, he said, "I can read you my report. Or you can read it in advance." This is also true. And then, when asked about how he handles different personalities, he said: "I may not like you. You may not like me. You move, you change; new Board Members come in; they're happy." What???!!! He wants to get rid of us already?

On a scale of 1 to 5, I gave him a big fat Zero. Two people gave him "5", and the remaining two gave him "2" Everyone wanted to know why I would do the Zero. I blurted out, "He's a drunk."
And I think he was drunk--a charming, belligerent, cynical, witty drunk. However, you can give me a diplomatic FAIL on that one. The entire room got Really Silent.

As for The Rock, he received all "5"s and one "6" on a scale of 1 to 5. We are now plotting how to get him in. Everybody, cross your fingers! I am fairly ready to end my sixty-hour work-week without pay. It looks like it might be less than two months away.

Sun Tzu: Waging War

2011-01-28T01:28:00.002-05:00

"When employing [an army] in battle, a victory that is long in coming will dampen their ardor. If you attack cities, their strength will be exhausted. If you expose the army to a prolonged campaign, the state's resources will be inadequate.

"When the weapons have grown dull and spirits depressed, when our strength has been expended and resources consumed, then the feudal lords will take advantage of our exhaustion to arise. Even though you have wise generals, they will not be able to achieve a good result.

"Thus in military campaigns I have heard of awkward speed but have never seen any skill in lengthy campaigns. No country has ever profited from protracted warfare. Those who do not thoroughly comprehend the dangers inherent in employing the army are incapable of truly knowing the potential advantages of military actions."

--Sun Tzu

from Sun Tzu, The Art of War. Ralph D. Sawyer, (Trans.) and Mei-chun Sawyer. Barnes & Noble Books, by arrangment with Westview Press, 1994 (pp. 173, paragraphs 2-4). I recommend it!

Part of the Terra-cotta Army of Xi'an. Picture by Maros at Wikipedia.

Zombie Soap Operas and Cat Tantrums

2011-01-27T00:09:00.000-05:00

Well, these poor cats. They have all the food they want, and plenty of loving attention, a nice clean litter box, and more toys than I can find--
but they want more.

The idea that I would do laundry, fight zombies, disappear for Board Meetings for hours and hours! BoyCat laid himself on the rug in front of the front door, stretched across the entire doorway. He was just like a human chain stopping the Bulldozing of the Old-Growth Forest or the Family Farm. He has also taking to mewing at the door--poor abandoned baby. I don't know how he stands life as he knows it.

Pets of a Different Sort
I had a near-suicide note from on person who owes us $1033.00 this week. I am stressing her out!! She can not pay her bill. She addressed the letter to Madame Ann H.

Please do not make me pay my bill. I pay all bills on time. I never have late notices. I obey all rules at the ZombieLand Condominiums. I can not live with this stress. You must understand.

Well, unfortunately for her I do understand. I was mostly afraid she would come Emote over the entire Board last night, driving our meeting into the wee hours. Thankfully, she did not show up. The Board, in true gratitude for her non-attendance, forgave part of her charges. Next!!!

I had ten disputacious accounts to go over last night. I wrote them all up carefully, in consultation with Zombie Assistant. However, this morning I found out we have a burgeoning lawsuit which she forgot to tell me about in time for the meeting. She is very sorry. (Grrrr.)

I handled that today . . . .

I know you Midwestern sufferers of winter will find this amusingly minor, but we had three inches of snow this evening. Slippery, rainy slush--dirty on impact. Oh, the suffering! I address this letter to the Estimable Groundhog:

Please do not see your shadow on Groundhog Day. I try to conserve energy. I wear many sweaters. I obey all rules at the Zombieland Condominium. I cannot live with this stress. You must understand.

Sorry gang, this is what I have today. I am working up a couple thematic series, but they aren't ready yet. In the meantime, I'm afraid not to let you know what's up, so . . . you get these Soap Operas and Tantrums. Hopefully they will make you laugh. They make me laugh.

The Unceasing Indoctrination

2011-01-26T02:21:00.001-05:00

What more reinforcing propaganda is there than to give a political swan song before death?
For you are bound to tell your truth, whatever truth that may be.

We believe this in our country, too. We believe in deathbed confessions, suicide notes, and dying declarations. The truth is, we can lie at death and know it. We can lie at death and think we are telling the truth.

Then there is the time of learning fundamentals--the foundations of truth. If you don't watch the first one, watch this one, where an imitation Mickey Mouse has an appalling job and probably does it quite well.

Palestinian Watch is an "Israeli research institute that studies Palestinian society from a broad range of perspectives by monitoring and analyzing the Palestinian Authority through its media and schoolbooks. PMW’s major focus is on the messages that the Palestinian leaders, from the Palestinian Authority, Fatah and Hamas, send to the population through the broad range of institutions and infrastructures they control."

According to Wikipedia, the organization seeks to let the European Union know what its foreign aid and business investment in Palestinian media is bringing forth. However, their offices are in Israel and they have a Director in North America, not the European Union--at least, not at the Web site I visited. What I am saying is that there is more than one competing indoctrination embedded in this post. The first is the videos. The second is the editing I have done, and that Palestinian Watch has done.

Nothing is straightforward in the Near East--or perhaps anywhere. No one is perhaps blameless, or free from prejudice there as well as anywhere else. However, these videos are quite a shock.

I originally went looking for indoctrination videos and pictures--I keep trying to understand the limits of my own values, and (less personally) also how groups perpetuate themselves. The way I examined my first set of values was to go to school--and get perhaps a competing indoctrination, and then try to work with the contradictions to decide for myself. According to these videos, there is not a lot of competition here--only 1 Big 1 indoctrination.

--Wikipedia on Hamas
--Wikipedia on Fatah
--Wikipedia on Revisionist Zionism

I'm looking for some great thoughts here. If you have some, I'd love to see them in the comments.

Officer Friendly Precinct

2011-01-25T00:01:00.000-05:00

This is the front of the Sixth Precinct in Detroit, Michigan, where on January 24, a lone assailant came in and started shooting, wounding four police officers. It is a low building in civil-service brick, in deference to the cash-strapped taxpayers of Detroit. The pillars are there to remind us that this is a Hall of Government.

The huge window and open entrance convey that law enforcement is for the community; that it is transparent; that you may come in and make your concerns known. The big window serves to also to show the officers within what community they are connected to; what prevailing conditions are. It is a no-barrier. The glass is not even bullet-resistant.

Well, that's not going to work in the world we have now.

Walking in Circles

2011-01-24T23:36:00.000-05:00

I had an interesting visit with the shrink today. If I am walking around in shoes that are barely holding together, I am not respecting myself. Yes, it sounds bizarre.

I was waiting to get new shoes until I had a job. The master repair job on these seven-year-old quality-make shoes only lasted six months, if that. And quality-make shoes are cheaper in the long run, but expensive up front.

I don't know how professional I will look in shoes coming un-stitched for those job interviews.

So I can't wait that long.

On the way back from the appointment, I was offered a job.
(So much for good shoes being a requirement.)

It's for the same company I left because they had an employee theft ring that I exposed, but the thieves started hiding jewelry during my shift to implicate me. I gave two weeks' notice and got the hell out.

So I think maybe I will get new shoes. And a different job than the one I was offered today.
Still, I may be walking out of that circle I've been walking. . . . .

The Trash Collector--On the Poetry Bus

2011-01-24T00:47:00.000-05:00

This week's Poetry Bus is from The Science Girl at Have Genes Will Travel. She prompts for a poem about things we like that others don't like.

The Souvenirs

In Guadalajara
I picked up trash:
wrappers from cakes,
cigarette packages,
coasters and matchbooks.

Before dawn I went alone
to a cathedral. I watched
a priest, resigned,
bless a penitente off his knees
then walked to our hotel.

We ordered big breakfasts.
Bank security had machine guns.
Once moneyed, we drove to
exclusive shops, refueling
at an all-you-can-eat buffet.

They took naps after lunch
While I looked at bakeries
and scraped curbs near cantinas.
I heard I was much woman
From men with red-veined eyes.

I drew pictures of buildings
Before returning to the hotel.
We drank whiskey, ate salted peanuts
and cut oranges on toothpicks.
Then to dinners I couldn't eat.

and drinks after dining every night.
One afternoon in the market,
I bought a bright blanket
And wore it like a shawl after dark.
The hotel staff laughed at me
When I went out to hear the singers.

I heard La Paloma. I asked for Jalisco,
for La Malaguena. A young man sat
To see if I wanted company.
I held my purse. In poor Spanish
I told him to move along.

I brought back trash
for souvenirs, now pressed like leaves
in a file cabinet. They thought
What a stranger. Who needs

"El Rey, cigarillos, clase A"?
at once familiar but odd
attractive enough to sell once
then common, with no value
crumpled record of lone adventures.

--Ann T. Hathaway

Research and Rumination on Homicide

2011-01-23T13:39:00.001-05:00

Today I went to the Bureau of Justice Statistics Web site to look at the relationship of assailant to victim, and found some other things besides. I also checked out the Center for Disease Control.

Mostly, We Lived
In the last year of reported data (2007) at the Centers for Disease Control (CDC FastStats site), there were 1.4 million emergency room visits because of assault/attempted homicide/homicide. Murder was the 15th most likely cause of death (behind heart disease (#1), cancer (#2) , and suicide (#11)).

There were 18,361 homicide deaths in 2007. 12,632 of those resulted from firearms use.

You have to say those emergency rooms are doing a good job: assuming that all the murder victims died in an E.R. (which they don't), that would still be a 1.3% death rate to overall visits for assault. If you're dying, the paramedics and the E.R. are generally going to save you. Unless you go out afterwards and continue to do whatever got you there in the first place. The same of course is true with heart disease: can't do what you've been doing and expect to live a long life.

But Sometimes We Didn't
The BJS site is a little behind the CDC: most of their reporting ends at 2005.

Victim/Offender Relationships: 1976--2005.
All Homicides 1976-2005 100% 594,276

People kill their spouses about 7% of the time. Wives and ex-wives usually die of gunshot wounds.
They kill their boyfriend or girlfriend about 3.8% of the time. Boyfriends usually die of knife wounds.
They kill some other close family member about 8% of the time.

They kill "non-intimate family", friends, or acquaintances about 32.1% of the time.
It's more likely that these acquaintances will be male, and of age 18-24. This is also the age that uses guns the most. Gang violence has increased 800% (eightfold) over the reported thirty years.

The relationship was undetermined for 35.2% of all homicides in that time period.
That particular statistic "undetermined" is trending upward: no doubt caused by a variety of factors, including a lack of police manpower for apprehensions and for murder investigations. In 1975, 79% of all homicide cases cleared; in 2005, 62%. That's a pretty strong correlation to the undetermined percentage, which has also trended up.

So at least 50.8 % of all homicides are committed by people that knew the victim. Arguments factor into most of them: that's how the homicide starts. That's opposed to homicide in commission with another crime--robbery, rape, and so forth. Mostly it's people getting mad and settling it forever. With a gun. Usually. The BJS says gun-related murder is trending downward, but I don't think the CDC believes it. That's why it's good to check more than one site for your stats. Each producer of stats has a vested interest. Each of them has a different means of getting their reports.

Strangers committed 13.9% of all homicides in that time period.
None of these figures add in 9/11, which according to Wikipedia, killed 2977 people. If you add those into the total, the figure for "homicide by strangers" goes up to 13.95% . The Twin Towers, the Pentagon, and Pennsylvania--as awful and symbolic as they are--do not add appreciably to the number of murders that happened in the United States from 1975 to 2005. But perhaps it's not fair to dilute that by 30 years.

Murder per capita, selected years:
1974--10.1
1980--10.7
1991--10.5
2001, including 9-11-- 7.1. According to the CDC, 20,308 people total died in 2001 of assault/homicide. Even if that includes the 9-11 deaths, then less than 15% of that years' homicides were from this frightening terrorist attack in three locations. Not even equal percentage to the number of intimate family homicides that same year.
2006--6.2
2007--6.1

According to the BJS, homicides clear more often than any other type of case.
And that makes me wonder something else about police work. Big crimes are fascinating to us: they are discrete (separate) events. Crappy crimes like armed robbery or car theft are more likely to happen to us. They are more likely to impact our daily life.

We hold the loss of human life as the most important, but is it really the most important to us? A murder across town--does it affect us as much as having our handbag stolen? It takes forever to get a duplicate license, a new picture of our boyfriend or grandchild, to cancel our credit cards. A wallet costs more than $20.00 these days, and requires a trip to the store when we don't have our new driver's license yet. Plus we're anxious, angry, afraid, and maybe kicking ourselves for being careless.

But these crimes have a less successful clearance rate. I wonder if our society's dissatisfaction with policing comes from the difference of our moral expectations--and our real expectations. I wonder if our real expectation is to be spared inconvenience--not to worry about human life.

Doing More Triage with Band-Aids
And more than ever, a quick look at statistics shows us this: whichever we pick, the "life is precious" road or the "convenience is precious" one, we've underfunded our police departments. We've got mixed motives in our policing expectations, and a far from clear set of priorities. That's made us ambiguous at best and hostile at worst toward law enforcement and its officers. "Shouldn't you be out fighting real crime?" they hear. Yet accidental injury (including drunk drivers and road war) is #3 on the CDC mortality statistics. Way above murder. Way above suicide. It's life-affirming to write traffic violations. Why is that so hard to believe?

I believe law enforcement agencies have realized this societal ambiguity between life-affirming and convenience-affirming. The LEO on the street is inconvenienced and importuned by it and the agencies have internalized it. We now have a lot of bean-counting inside the agencies, which the police officers seemingly don't like and we don't pay attention to anyway. Statistics on robbery or loitering seem to figure more highly in "police performance assessment" and reportedly can be fudged by knocking down the charges to a lesser violation, or inflating the number of contacts. It's artificial. On some level, it's meant to appease. And get funding. Our ambiguity trends into our funding for the departments. The bean-counting is their fight back. It only works half the picture at best, and reinforces our ambiguity at worst.

As long as society at large fails to realize that police "productivity" is in direct but also inverse proportion from the stats, society will not get either the convenient or the life-affirming law enforcement response. The more crimes solved or prevented, the less need it seems we have for police. But prevention means placing resources before the fact. You can't go by need alone (crime is going up; case clearance going down), but also by the effect (crime is going down; case clearance is up). When law enforcement succeeds, we cut funding. It only makes sense in statistics, not in real life.

This is not what I was starting to look for when I studied homicide statistics. It's just what grabbed me. I was looking for stats comparing Bubba Terrorism to Islamic Terrorism. Haven't found those yet. I got distracted.

Support your local law enforcement agencies. That's what I really have. Do it from the pocket--you get what you pay for. And do it with a smile. That would be life-affirming. Might even work on the convenience scale, too.

Today I'm Reading

2011-01-22T13:38:00.002-05:00

visiting you all . . . so behind!
Ann

Small Crime, Big Damage Control: part one of 1 or 2 or who knows

2011-01-21T06:48:00.003-05:00

Okay, I've kept mum--believe it or not--on the big issues our condo has been facing lately. After we found that Evil Zombie Building Maintenance Tech (EZBMT) had stolen from a unit, (BAM BOOM) life changed for us all. I'm talking practical details. But also, emotions are engaged. There is work. There is also the rehabilitation of everybody who is left. And there is the spirit or zeitgeist of business operations, which is conducted on so many levels. It is not black and white, and oh I wish it was.

But it can't be. It's a business. It's also the home of many people, including my own. It's trust and security and money and oh-so-minor in life's big issues. Cleaning up after one Jerk: it happens all the time.

EZ's just another of the many shady asshats out there. Not a big in the scheme of things. Not smart; just clever. Not successful; except lately. But he has 24 hours every day to study how to stay away from us. Our 24 hours per day is trying to get back on even keel. And that's just wrong.

But though I insult his intelligence, his style, and his habits, he did pull one over on us. So maybe this account will also be wrong. It's just what I see.

That Missing Two Ounces of Prevention.
1. Yes, hindsight: he's done other things. He's got court-ordered child support in other states and no driver's license. I think it's a sign of one or two flaws that may have kept us from hiring this dude--except we didn't do a background check, so I can't say for sure. The idea of background checks is horrid to me--until now. And we all accepted this payroll garnishment and lack of full I.D. by not focusing on it. And some heavy glossing from somebody else, who took it cheerily in stride: Zombie Assistant.

2. Our stupid policy manual didn't have a good enough anti-nepotism policy. And his sister-in-law is Zombie Assistant. More on that later.

Two Tons of Cure.
I rammed it through. The Board wasn't even thinking about it. They were still in shock (or, Captain Nemo was panicking)--and right after that, depression. The old Board wasn't completely averse--they just weren't thinking of it. The new ones weren't averse, they just didn't have the details.

I called firms; got bids; informed our financial professionals; prepared a presentation. We had a Special Session. And the Board said "Yes, we have to do it."

So we had a private investigator come in. After that, the tension level ratcheted up in the Board. We had to keep a secret. Employees were officially under suspicion. And so forth. It was hard.

And the employees did know they were under a shadow. They had a hard time with it. No reassurance anyone could make was untainted. We all knew that, secrets or not.

I sent the P.I. more prep documents than you can imagine, writing them all up myself. I looked at pictures of items from the on-line market--you could see parts of our maintenance room in some of the backgrounds. Others were of unknown upholstery, possibly EZBMT's house. I investigated a pile of invoices, looking for prices and buying trends. Some things I had to look up on the Internet to get a price--expensive items for building repair that are custom-made for old buildings, or out of date on price lists but still useful to us, that still belonged to us (allegedly). Investigation of other items, all priced and listed on an Excel sheet--not my favorite computer program, but damn it works well for some things.

Some of the Board yelled at me for going overly. I just kept going. I didn't even have time to tell them they were full of shit. It was delegated to me, and I did everything I could think of except rent a car and a pair of handcuffs. I knew we might not get anything out of the employees. I wanted the P.I. to have every smoking gun I could get him.

I checked Vendor Ledgers to see if we had accounts with dummy companies (possibly run by employees). I checked for shipping contracts, trying to figure out how this stuff got sent out, if its origin of shipment was from our building. I studied forensic accounting on the Internet so that I could figure out how to get more information out of what I was looking at already.

I say alleged because I have everything except proof. And that's the critical part.

In the two weeks' worth of items I could try to track, EZ sold $1300.00 worth of stuff for less than $500.00. It's not like he was making a killing out there. In fact, if he was buying it himself to re-sell, he lost a lot of money.

Zombie Assistant
In the meantime, all of staff was reeling. Angry as we were, tense as it was, we had to project confidence.
I had to write a new conflict-of-interest policy, so that Zombie Assistant didn't open up mail about her brother-in-law. I made her sign it. (She broke it twice. That I know of.)

In the meantime, she was "Embattled Dowager", "Plucky Maiden", "Crying Victim", "Servant of Us All" and "Evil Bitch When Nobody's Looking" by turns. (The last one is customary, but heavily accented under pressure.) You should know that her work ethic, already abysmal, took a nose dive. Sure, I understand--her family and her job were in peril. I do understand. It has to be hard.

The conflict of interest policy review happened on Thursday. By Friday she was laughing as she took off early from work. Do I sound bitter? Well. I took it as a sign of what I could expect. Maybe I am right, or maybe it's a self-fulfilling bad attitude on my part.

Zombie Boss
Shortly thereafter, we fired Zombie Boss. Unrelated: but he couldn't figure out what to do. I had to call all our maintenance suppliers, because otherwise EZBMT could have allegedly continued to order everything in sight and allegedly sell it on-line. The look of mystification on ZB's face when I did this was just awful.

While I was down there handling that, EZBMT's lawyer called and asked if he could have his job back. Unbelievable. But they called the weak link. I just happened to be there.

Firing ZB has added work. Or maybe not; he couldn't cope. But there is a lot of work.

Other Zombie Maintenance Tech (OZBMT):
The pleasant surprise in this is how OZBMT has managed to shake off the Zombie virus. He understood everything right away.
   No going into units for repairs alone anymore? Thank you for covering my ass.
   Nobody else to take call? That's okay, I'll take it: we'll work it out later.
   No snow removal contract, because Zombie Boss forgot about it? Order some ice-melt; I know what to do.

It was like the sun coming out. He could show what he was made of, at last: now that EZ and Zombie Assistant weren't running their dog-and-pony show about who was the competent building tech. It conveyed that we had also missed some of the good.

Yet he seemingly had to know something about the allegedly missing items. So there's still all this fog in front of the sun. There's still this feeling that maybe he's Compensating for past transgressions. The better he got, the more I worried; I think we all did.

OZ was worried for EZ, he felt for him. EZ betrayed a lot of people. But in other ways--and OZ doesn't even know it himself--he was instantly happier, his shoulders instantly straighter. When bad things are allowed to continue, people suffer. Even if they don't know it. And that is just another reason why we have to fight the crimes, petty meanness, small evils. Even in the intangible ways, this all causes suffering.

Two or three weeks later, we informed the staff that we would have investigative interviews. We told them Friday for Monday. . . . . . .

Dombey and Son

2011-01-20T04:22:00.000-05:00

While my computer was down, I started reading Dickens again. I've reviewed Little Dorrit in this blog before, about people caught up in debtor's prison--and other prisons. This time, I am reading Dombey and Son.

Dombey and Son is a family-owned firm. All the sons are named Paul. The book starts with the birth of a new Paul, and the death of his mother. The newborn's sister, Florence, is about six years old. She is completely ignored by her father because she cannot take over the business. She's considered a mistake and a disappointment, because she cannot be groomed into an heir to the Dombey tradition.

Dickens is known in the contemporary academic parlance as not having a good handle on women. It's an interesting question, but I'm not so sure it's altogether true. For instance, Dickens didn't invent a lack of business opportunities for women in the Victorian Age, did he? He was telling what he saw: girls were not looked at as viable heirs to a commercial enterprise.

In Dombey and Son, Florence is a paragon of virtue. In the Dombey family, she is the one person who can meet life and death with appropriate emotions. She's not the head of anything, and doesn't look to be.

The "selfless female" comes up a lot in Dickens (Little Dorrit, for instance), and I think forms part of the basis for what is considered Dickens' misogyny. What I think the literature critics don't see is the constant self-analysis and focus that these paragons undertake in order to forgive, excuse, prop up, and otherwise maintain goodness in the face of one disaster after another. But in this book, Dickens distinctly describes how hard it is on the paragon--it's not always natural to them, but a product of self-training and focus. These paragons get blown around and hurt all the time. But they don't give up. And eventually, they prevail. They find happiness.

As Florence comforts her mother on the deathbed, Mr. Dombey watches, mostly over his son and heir. But afterward, he avoids his daughter because he is ashamed of what he lacked when his wife died. Over and over in the book, Florence garners true affection and admiration, only to wish her father would notice her. He only responds to servility: in adult family members, his employees, and the false friends who eventually surround him. Though Florence is obedient, meek, et cetera, it doesn't have the same feel to it as a craven or opportunistic submission. And Mr. Dombey never knows what to do around her. He always feels rebuked, when all she wants is to be accepted. He only hits one note. She hits nearly all of them.

When her brother goes to school, he is physically weak and inundated by the curriculum. Dickens plainly shows that Florence is up to the intellectual task--she gets all of her brother's books and studies them so she can tutor him. The non-modern part of this is that she never shows any ambition to use it for herself, but to help another. Nowhere in the book does she spout off a quote from something she's read, or put herself forward in any way. People do it for her. They want her around. After awhile, you learn who's really moving forward, though: Florence. Her dad is in full retreat. He just doesn't know it.

I find myself wondering how different the world is post-Freud. In this era, we believe that we are the product of our early experiences--Mozart in the crib, judiciously-chosen educational toys, no shoes that pinch the foot, no corsets that bind us up. We don't believe people can be good just in themselves. We don't think they extend themselves emotionally if someone else hasn't done it first, like a parent, to show how it's done. There's a lot more to this book, but I just keep thinking, this time around:

How much of the disconnect between Dickens and a modern reader is Dickens' fault? He had a world view. We think we're past all that. But we are as firmly entrenched in our world view as Dickens was in his.

He thought a good woman could do no wrong. That's not a lot of wiggle room for us non-perfect females. Never to have a resentment, or say a cross word, and to have that "shine through" to perfect strangers, even though someone nearer to us might not see it. It's not that easy. To try to be Florence would twist me like a rope.

On the other hand, in this era, some people still grow up in emotionally distant environments, still have "right" feelings and the impulse to virtue. These remarkable individuals did not have all the advantages, but still bring emotional consonance and decency to their dealings in the world. They do not fit our current formula.

I think Dickens is saying that a good person is able to function with emotional power, to "do the right thing" in whatever role they might have. When emotion enters it, the right thing is sometimes distinct from the "proper" thing. It transcends rank, class, income. A good person listens, sees, feels, and develops internal character.

I also think it is not easy, and that it never was. I think Dickens would say the same.

Just my two cents.

Five Days, Four Nights, No Potato Chips

2011-01-19T03:38:00.000-05:00

Dear Readers,
Yay! I'm back. Whenever I typed, I had to wait for each word to come up. I thought I would punch holes in the keyboard trying to make it type--word, excel, e-mail, you name it. I was gritting my teeth and giving myself carpal tunnel syndrome. Time to change that scenario--

Naturally I took my computer in on the Friday before a National Holiday. And it took this long to get it back.
I felt like an idiot when I picked it up.

I thought about mentioning potato chip crumbs and decided against it. I don't really like to tell people I eat potato chips. It seems wrong. So I just blame the pets instead.

"Did you vacuum the cat hair out of the keyboard?" I asked.
"No, I lost the attachment to the vacuum."
I thought about mentioning that he'd had my computer for Five Days and Four Nights, but didn't. Still, he must have seen it in my eyes. With a huge sigh, he dug his vacuum out of the box. Sure enough, he had a tiny wand-like attachment, but no hose to hook it to the motor. He used a regular corner attachment. I do that at home all the time. It's not enough. Sometimes I use a Q-tip and rubbing alcohol, with mixed results.

"What about cleaner?" I asked. "What do you use to clean the monitor screen?"
"I'm out of it right now."
"Does it have rubbing alcohol in it?"
He gives me a strange look. "No."
"I've heard you can use Windex."
"Not very much," he said. So now what am I supposed to do?

Did you fix the "e" key?" I asked. "It wobbles."
"No, and don't touch it!!" he said. "I'm afraid it's going to break off."

"Did you fix my memory? I should have 4 gigs of memory, but it's only reading two."
"You're okay on memory," he said. It still only reads 2 gigs.

"Do me a favor when you get it home," he says. "Run the Disk Defragmenter."
"I do run it," I said. "It's on a schedule." Wasn't he going to run it?

"Well, I dumped 9 gigs of temporary files from your hard drive, and you need to run it."
How can I have 9 gigs of temp files on a 4 gig memory? I didn't ask.
"My computer is supposed to run a temp-file dump automatically, too."
He checks. Yes, it is on a schedule. He says, "Huh." He looks at me.
"Just run it."
"Okay." It took hours for the hard drive to defragment, so I guess it was necessary.

And I had to order a new battery. It's not in yet. They don't know when it will come in. They have no idea. Either two days or nine, or something like that. They did know when I had to pay, though: in advance.

But, I will say, this poor laptop is running MUCH better. He used the upholstery brush to clean the keyboard. Cat hair went everywhere. No potato chip crumbs were found.

Competency

2011-01-19T00:04:00.000-05:00

I like to let you know I am making progress with the outside world. Every time I write how I am failing, you guys write me back and say to keep trying. So, maybe we have some results from all this trying--yes?

Due Thursday:
Two reports on two months of financials (one incomplete, because the financial statements have not yet arrived.)

One incomplete because all the invoices I need to examine are lost. This seems significant to me--not in a good way. How can we lose SIX invoices? The very ones I want to see? It's Zombie filing--in short, a shambling plot.

One report on A Year of Investments. Four pages of Excel Tables. Done.

Two unpaid insurance policies found and paid up. Every insurance policy examined to make sure they are ALL paid up. And, now back in Department of Labor compliance--oops! That was a near thing.

Insurance expires next month--oops! Two sets of contracts coming by Thursday.

One report on major repairs and the financing for that. This sounds rather more grand than it is, because all of the information is done by expert consultants. I only compiled it.

One report on Collections, still in work. Each account takes twelve to sixty hours to fix. Each person is angry.
Each ledger is screwed up. I have a list of twenty-three, and have completed eight of the Top Ten Debtors, plus various other people whose voices were the loudest.

Reconciled two bank accounts, updated ledgers for five accounts in legal collections, prepared hearing documents for three complainants to the Board, four petty cash reconciliations, one holiday fund/two disbursements, and one major systemic payroll snafu.

Interpersonal Relations
Four personnel conferences, one scheduling training session.

Somebody promises to pay $3K this Friday and asks me to check out his leaky shower with him. I have no ability to assess showers, so I write him back to bring the money and a plumber.

From Zombie Pandemic dot com.

Another debtor writes me that she will die of stress if I don't forgive her over $1K of outstanding debt. I don't think she's going to blow her brains out, because she is manipulative and constantly in debt. Still, you can never be sure. I gave her an avenue to pursue. The next day she thanks me. I am not sure this is good news yet.

Not done yet. The meeting is Tuesday, and the League will have tons of Ann T. and other papers to read before then.

The Zombies are sitting around and eating candy. I would cut up stiff about it, but I don't want them to screw up my work. I told Mycroft this, and he said, "Don't let them do a thing."

I still have my Zombie Thwack Gun, but they won't let me use it.

We are still looking for a manager . . . .

Sunday, January 16: Honoring our Dead in Iraq.

2011-01-16T00:19:00.006-05:00

Last week, I posted the U.S. dead for 2010 in and around Afghanistan. But we should never forget the many casualties of the Iraq War, sixty of which occurred this year. I found these names at icasualties.org, an organization which has been tracking the losses for the coalition forces for a long time.

I hope you will take a minute to read through these names, listed two or three across.

Please also remember their families, friends, and comrades who needed them. Please remember these men and women who are still with us, still serving. Remember the wounded, the permanently injured, and their caregivers. Their battles are not done.

--Finch, David D.--Luff Jr., David J.--Gandy, Loleni W.--

--Jones Jr., David R.--Reid, Dylan T.--Whisenant, Marc C.--

--Carrillo Jr., John--Noonan, Gebrah P.--Burner III, John F.--

--Hansen, James A.--Jenkins, Philip C.--McClamrock, James F.--

--Maggart, Brandon E.--Rhett, Jamal M.--Hinkley, Faith R.--

--Runyan, Michael L.--Tuttle, Jordan E.--Lumpkin, Johnny W.--

--McBeth, Morganne M.--Haynes, Bryant J.--Dohrenwend, Jacob P.--

--Cassidy, Michael P.--Opat, Christopher W.--
Obryan, Israel P.----Yauch, William C

.--Theobald, Steve M.--Guardado-Ramirez, Francisco J.--

--Sessarego, Alvaro R. Regalado--Culver Jr. Ronald W.--
--Gonzalez, Amilcar H.--Sokolowski, III, Stanley J.--

--Mena, Ralph--Gonzales, Esau S.A.--

--Magee, Anthony O.--Coe, Keith A.--Worrell, Christopher D.--

--Antonio, Charlie C.--Patton, James R.--Collins, Robert W.--

--Blount, Anthony--Kruize, Kurt E.--Pacleb, Raymond N.--

--Rieckhoff, Robert--Jordan, Richard J.--McLyman, Erin L.--

--Bishop, Steven J.--Arthur, Aaron M.--Bailey, Lakeshia M.--

--Spencer, William C.--O’Leary, Daniel T.--Grinder, Billie J.--

--Alford, Marcus R.--Caughman, Sean L.--Alvarez, Adriana--

--Barnett, Scott G.--Hurt, Gifford E.--Hopkins, Ryan J.--

--Jarrett, Michael R.--Croft Jr., David A.--Anderson, Brushaun X.--

Our Homeless Veterans: The Human Face

2011-01-15T00:37:00.001-05:00

The Department of Veterans Affairs estimates nine thousand veterans of Iraq and Afghanistan are homeless. Others say it's more. To me, nine thousand is too many, by about nine thousand.

The other thing is, contrary to narrative, it doesn't have to happen all at once. There's slippage: a military man is trained to react to a crisis. When he or she comes home and it's totally different, they may cope for awhile in crisis mode. Then one thing happens, or another. The mask cracks. They end up on the street.

It's easy to say something needs to happen. There's a feel-good level to that. But then there's the part where people back from war actually have issues: broken families, the community safety net broken since they left. Others have hypervigilance, drug abuse, alcoholism. Still others: organic brain damage, or constant pain. Those things aren't pretty. Neither is war. We know who endured the most. Still endures the most.

Of the homeless population, it's estimated that 47% of them are Vietnam veterans. We failed these vets: it was partly our popular culture at the time, which I have never understood but must accept. It was also a failure on the part of military culture, the VA culture. The lack of advance in psychology over PTSD. The enduring contribution of the Vietnam Veteran Homeless may well be that the current returning veterans are getting treatment sooner.

Good word is coming out from Eric Shinseki's work with the VA. But as I have said before, the VA doesn't work for everyone. Or it isn't the only thing a person needs. Hey: hire a vet. Or if you're not in a hiring position, maybe just talk to one sometime. Every hello and how are you is part of their return to us. It may lead to something deeper or better. Try to know what you can in the way you can do it.

There's a few interesting stories out there. This one is from ABC News.

At Vets Edge dot Org: A true story of a veteran who nearly failed twice, written by himself.
From the Beloit Daily News: about two-thirds of the way down, the veterans' accounts start in this story.

now experiencing technical difficulty

2011-01-13T03:54:00.000-05:00

I think the Zombies have finally infected my Laptop. I'm still here, but this computer is Un-Happy.
be back soon. Miss you all already--

Poetry Bus: Art Appreciation

2011-01-11T11:50:00.003-05:00

This week's poetry prompt comes from Kate of the Emerging Writers blog.
One of the prompt choices was L'esprit d'escalier. This is a French term I've run into before. It means "the spirit of the staircase", but really it's the moment you think of the Crushing Comment that you would have made, except the moment is gone already. (Oh! I should have said that!) but too late.

So, poor Grandma. She's in for another poetic slam today. However, she was also a fun lady much of the time. This is not a revenge poem--it's the Esprit d' Escalier. No going back to fix this one.

you have to have a man for this

Amid a trendy traffic, my cousin Angel admires

Lichtenstein’s Pop: triadic blue, red and yellow.
We live by design: me in fashion, and Angel, graphics.
Grandmother’s pleased we have such passions. She’s
With us too, and fairly doting. We’re all dressed up
And later lunching: just us girls. Grandma was
Past president of this museum’s Guild. Art is not
The thing that drives her, but without what social
Ladies willed, this building would be dust and stone
So she also feels just right at home.

I’m beguiled by Angel’s exposition, but Grandma’s
Worried over Angel’s dating. And just to take this past the top
Angel broke up with grandma’s pool-boy lately, and this
Is none of Grandma’s business. But in front of comic paintings
Begins a maternal inquisition. When will you marry, Angel darling?
There are men all over as you can see. How about that
Handsome fellow? Now there’s a work of living art.

Her voice has always carried well, and
Angel’s always been so shy. She turns bright red.
The man selected turns his head. He’s standing
In a group of gay. So much for this
Artistic day. If Grandma’s voice is loud enough, her whisper
Carries in the crowd: All you have to do is try.
Angel is about to cry. I intervene:
Grandmother. And she says, What? I only want her
To have a life. It’s so much better as someone’s wife. Angel flees
Under the attack. I glare and say I’ll be right back.

That night, I am still seeing red. Right before we go to bed,
My husband says, You should have laughed
Said you and Angel would find some cuffs
So Grandmother could get her stuff.
Then you and Angel could enjoy the art
And Grandmother some lesser part.

Starts with Tears, Ends with Zucchini

2011-01-11T00:04:00.001-05:00

Well, my day started yesterday with two personnel crises, and I worked on personnel items.

Back to the shrink. It's been a month due to holidays. And just in time, too.

I then swung into three interviews for Manager of the Condo. No Zombies this time!

The first person was our Choice # 2. She was great, but I don't think she's working for what we're paying. It was obvious though: she could whip this place in shape, including the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen with one hand tied behind her back.

I kept thinking of Goldfrapp's song: I'm in Love with your Strict Machine. Not that she showed up in this get-up for the interview, LOL!

Goldfrapp - Strict Machine
Uploaded by Rian2k. - Watch more music videos, in HD!

The next man was our # 4 (#3 couldn't make it) and would have been great, except staff would have eaten him alive. We still have Zombies left, you know. I liked him but it would be cruel to hire him. He's not ready for the stuff we have.

The third man was our favorite before interviews. # 1!! And he was not quite there. He rambled too much, and I think he came out of a bad job situation that still has him shaken. We don't need him shaken: we need him stirred. He just couldn't stay on point--although it was obvious he knew plenty.

But I'm really glad that we're getting the kind of candidates we're getting.

After that, we had a personnel meeting. After that, we had an argument. After that, we made up. After that, it was 11:00 p.m. and I came upstairs and had dinner. I did not have lunch. I'm not sure I had breakfast.

However, all seems to be hanging in for the moment. We may be better off. All of these candidates, even the poor gentleman that wasn't quite ready--was head and shoulders above Zombie Boss. So things are looking up.

Running after the (Poetry) Bus

2011-01-10T10:52:00.002-05:00

Poem tomorrow. Idea finally surfaced.
Ann

Hoy Sun Ning Yung Benevolent Association

2011-01-10T00:37:00.001-05:00

This is the building in HotWinds, USA in the Chinatown area. I snapped this photo and later wondered what the heck it was. As it turns out, the H.S.N.Y. Benevolent Association and others like it do some good, and have done, for more than a hundred years. Although I don't know if this particular office has been here for more than a hundred years.

In general, there are more than one Chinese Benevolent Association, generally in cities that have enough ethnic Chinese to form a Chinatown area. Many of these societies banded together into a Consolidated Benevolent organization, tying efforts in New York to those in San Francisco, for example.

Historically they have helped Chinese immigrants get on their feet, and also lobbied for guidelines for immigration. They represent a self-help approach to acclimation to American culture, and also a network within American culture.

They are also the kind of group that in Singapore's public assistance model would be funded for social good instead of the Welfare system we have now.

Interesting, no? And all I did was just walk by.

Hoy Sung Ning Yung B.A. in Atlantic City Web site.
New York City's Chinese Consolidated Benevolent Association Web site, which I found interesting.

Sunday, January 9: Honoring Our Dead in Afghanistan

2011-01-09T00:46:00.002-05:00

In late December, I went to iCasualties.org and learned that the United States lost 498 military personnel in and around Afghanistan this year.

Year

2010

Jan

Feb

Mar

Apr

May

June

Jul

Aug

Sep

Oct

Nov

Dec

Below are the names of the men and women we lost. This does not count the 16 Canadian dead, the 103 from the United Kingdom, the ninety-three others who died from around the world in Afghanistan. If I did not note your country, icasualties.org did. You can find your countrymen listed there.

The Americans died at an age somewhere between 18 and 45 years old. I hope you will take a minute to read through these names, listed two or three across.

Please also remember their families, friends, and comrades who needed them.

Please remember these men and women who are still with us, still serving.

Remember the wounded,

the permanently injured, and their caregivers. Their battles are not done.

I am sorry if this page takes awhile to load, but I am not hiding any of these names after a page break. They are listed from most recent death to January 1, 2010.

--Nguyen, Tevan L.--Misener, Garrett A.--Corzine, Kenneth A.--

--Crouse IV, William H.--Javier Jr., Conrado D.--

--Torbert Jr., Eric M.--Maldonado, Jose L.--Osterman, Sean A.--

--Cutsforth, Sean R.--Schmalstieg, Justin E.--Hernandez, Jose A.--

--Collins, Sean M.--McLawhorn Jr., Willie A.--Deans, Patrick D.--

--Necochea Jr., Kenneth E.--Simonetta, Derek T.--Villacis, Jorge E.--

--Goncalo, Ethan L.--Green, Stacy A.--Mixon, Kelly J.--

--Ayube II, James A.--Geary, Michael E.--Peto, Jason D.--

--Rusk, Colton W.--Wyatt, Derek A.--Aleman, Nicholas J.--

--Reeves, Jason A.--Ashlock, Vincent W.--Scott, Lucas C.--

--Thode, James E.--Abbate, Matthew--Wade, Chad S.--

--Milley, Scott F.--Jarvis, Barry E.--Oakes, Curtis A.--

--Ramsey, Matthew W.--Gassen, Jacob A.--Staggs, Austin G.--

--McLain, Buddy W.--Harris, Devon J.--Donnelly IV, William J.--

--Buenagua, Ardenjoseph A.--Middleton, William K.--Flannery, Sean M.--

--Robinson, David S.--Smith, Jason T.--Holder, Kyle M.--

--Culbreth, Justin E.--Locht, Gwendolyn A. Ortiz Rivera, Javier O.--

--Pape, Kevin M.--Senft, David P.--Ahmed, Shane H.--

--Lillard, Nathan E.--Nagorski, Scott T.--Warriner, Christian M.--

--Snow, Jesse Adam--Carroll, Jacob C.--Carver, Jacob R.--

--Rivadeneira, Juan L.--Chihuahua, Shannon--

--Fannin, Shawn D.--Bubacz, Andrew S.--

--Lutes, David C.--Bolen, Edward H.--Stack, James B.--

--Huse, Dakota R.--Kelly, Robert M.--Vargas, Anthony--

--Hutchins, Andrew--Cruttenden, Aaron B.--Kridlo, Dale J.--

--Braggs, Randy R.--Reifert, Shane M.--Paranzino, Michael F.--

--Whipple, Blake D.--Emrick, Jordan B.--McCluskey, Jason J.--

--Pearson, Brandon W.--Broehm, Matthew J.--Young, James C.--

--Harris, Todd M.--Zimmerman, James R.--Meari, Andrew N.--

--Curtis, Jonathan M.--Land, Brett W.--Solorzanovaldovinos, Diego A.--

--Maldonado, Pedro A.--Dickmyer, Adam L.--Honeycutt Jr., Terry E.--

--Kirspel Jr., Michael D.--Tanner, Phillip C.--Sadell, Charles M.--

--Dupont, Steven L.--Moffitt, Thomas A.--Pallares, Ronnie J.--

--O’Malley, Aracely Gonzalez--McAninch, Kenneth K.--Jenkins, Gerald R.--

--Jackson, Francisco R.--Cullins, Joshua J.--Villarreal Jr., Jorge--

--Tawney, Ian M.--Boelk, James D.--Catherwood, Alec E.--

--Benitez, Carlos A.--Martinez Jr., Rafael--Billingsley, Tramaine J.--

--Lopez, Joseph C.--Ceniceros, Irvin M.--Newman, Eric C.--

--Cain, Justin J.--Vinnedge, Phillip D.--Rodewald, Joseph E.--

--Dew, Victor A.--Byrd, Jordan--Johnson, Raymon L. A.--

--Powell, Matthew C.--Zaehringer III, Frank R.--Weigle, Dave J.--

--Hess, David A--Sparks, John T.--Gonzalez, Edwin--

--Sockalosky, Stephen C.--Lynch, Scott A.--Johnson, Daniel J.--

--Clark, Ryane G.--Prentler, Joseph T.--Campbell, Karl A.--

--Board, Cody A.--Pedro, Brian J.--Vogeler, Lance H.--

--Matteoni, Anthony D.--Harley Jr., Willie J.--Rabon Jr.,Luther W.--

--Jackson, Timothy M.--Officer, Justin A.--Harrison, Calvin B.--

--Forester, Mark Andrew--Fabbri, Ralph J.--Morrison, Donald Scott--

--Simpson, Mark A.--Springer II, Clinton E.--Dawson, William Brandon--

--Petree, Jaysine P. S.--Rosa, Anthony J.--Buras, Michael J.--

--McClellan, Jonah D.--Baldwin, Robert F.--Calhoun Jr., Marvin R.--

--Powell, Joshua D.--Wagstaff, Matthew G.--Miranda, Denis C.--

--Smith, Adam O.--McLendon, David B.--Looney, Brendan J.--

--Ose, Joshua S.--Vieyra, Barbara--Yates, Eric--

--Harton, Joshua A.--Carron, Paul D.--Grider, Ronald A.--

--Newman, Jaime C.--Fleming, Scott J.--Snow, Deangelo B.--

--Johnson, Timothy L.--Kramer, Aaron K.--Sanchez, Daniel R.--

--Weaver, Todd W.--Bishop, John C.--Charte, Philip G. E.--

--McMahon, Jason T.--Balthaser, Jesse M.--Carver, Ross S.--

--Montoya, Diego M.--Twigg, Joshua T.--Rodgers, Christopher B.--

--Roberts, Cody A.--Bovia, Joseph A.--Adkinson III, Vinson B.--

--Alcaraz, Raymond C.--George, Matthew Eric--Page, James A.--

--Goetz, Dale A.--Infante, Jesse--Kessler, Kevin J.--

--West, Matthew J.--Clements, Chad D.--Noziska, Mark--

--Grochowiak, Casey J.--Holley, Floyd E. C.--Wallace, Ellery R.--

--Raver, Bryn T.--Ide, James R.--Castro, Andrew J.--

--Durham, Patrick K.--Robinson, James C.--Fedder, Daniel L.--

--Coleman, Chad D.--Novak, Adam J.--Swink, James Michael--

--Shoecraft, Justin B.--Newton, Robert J.--Rodriguez, Ronald A.--

--Deluzio, Steven J.--Southworth, Tristan H.--Meletiche, Pedro A. Millet--

--Calo, Jason D.--Maldonado, Alexis V.--Schultz, Nathaniel J. A.--

--Childers, Cody S.--Wright, Christopher S.--Lugo, Martin A.--

--Thomas, Collin--Boyd, Christopher J.--Oratowski, Kevin E.--

--Roberts, Edgar N.--Farley, Derek J.--Chisholm, Benjamen G.--

--High, IV, Charles M.--Bock, Michael A.--Karch, Christopher N.--

--Saenz III, Jose L.--Greer, Kristopher D.--Cuzzupe, Paul O.--

--Rappuhn, Bradley D.--Nicol, Andrew C.--Andrade, John E.--

--Gammone III, Vincent E.--Cornelius, Kevin M.--Donahue, Max W.--

--Van Aalst, Jared N.--Stout, Kyle B.--Stansbery, Michael L.--

--Holbrook, Jason E.--Warren, Kyle R.--Martin, Shane R.--

--Howard, Abram L.--Vazquez, Frederik E.--Mora, Conrad A.--

--Lim, Daniel--Bauer, Joseph A.--Hand, Andrew--

--Newlove, Jarod--McNeley, Justin--Oquin, James J.--

--Weis, James M.--Carazo, Mario D.--Vargas, Julio--

--Piercy, Brian F.--Miller, Paul J.--Wrightsman, Joe L.--

--Eastman, Christopher L.--Bennedsen, Robert N.--Santiago, Anibal--

--Allen, Justin B.--Weikert, Matthew W.--Tilton, Jesse R.--

--Bartelt, Justus S.--Santos, Dave M.--Winters, Leston M.--

--Jarrell, John H.--Stanley, Chase--Reed, Jesse D.--

--Johnson, Matthew J.--Fisher, Zachary M.--King, Brandon M.--

--Goeke, Christopher S.--Stout, Christopher T.--Tate, Sheldon L.--

--Moon, Christopher J.--Garvin, Nathaniel D.--Antonik, Christopher J.--

--Mittler, Shaun M.--Negron, Carlos J.--Ainsworth, Jesse W.--

--Crow, Robert W.--Edgerton, Donald R.--Roads, Tyler A.--

--Dimock II, Joseph W.--Raney, Daniel G.--Simmons, Anthony W.--

--Arizmendez, Marc A.--Pridham, Michael S.--Lee, Roger--

--Fastuca, Louis R.--Cabacoy, Christopher F. Wood, Edwin C.--

--Osborne, Jerod H.--Cooper, Keenan A.--Creighton, Andrew J.--

--Dennis, Jacob A.--McGarrah, Clayton D.--Wisniewski, David A.--

--Jefferson, David--Grady, Ryan J.--Harris Jr., Larry D.--

--Hennigan, Matthew R.--Rogers, John M.--Chapleau, Kristopher D.--

--Shaw, Eric B.--Thomas, David W.--Richards, William T.--

--Caskey, Joseph D.--Holmes, David A.--Plunk, Jared C.--

--Thompson, Blair D.--DeBoer, Daane Adam--Repkie, Robert K. L.--

--Loredo, Edwardo--Madden, Russell E.--Justesen, Anthony T.--

--Dumaw, Joshua R.--Turner, Eddie--Patino IV, Claudio--

--Cueto, Kevin A.--Looney, Andrew R.--Miller, David T.--

--Andrews, Scott A.--Serwinowski, Timothy G.--Silk, Brandon M.--

--Hunter, James P.--Park, Benjamin J.--Ortega, William--

--Cox, Nathan W.--Bailey, Michael C.--Johnson, Joseph D.--

--Hotchkin, Gunnar R.--Standfest, Jeffrey R.--Osborn, Benjamin D.--

--Anderson, Brian M.--Rodriguez, Mario--Adams, Christian M.--

--Hoover, Bryan A.--Fike, Robert J.--Brummund, Gavin R.--

--Plank, Michael G.--Flores, Michael P.--Gentz, Joel C.--

--Smith, David C.--White, Benjamin D.--Klusacek, Erick J.--

--Walters, Zachary J.--Shanfield, Derek L.--Catlett, Matthew R.--

--Jirtle, Charles S.--Barton, Robert N.--Lukeala, Joshua A.--

--Redding, Blaine E.--Rankel, John K.--Neenan, Brendan P.--

--Bury, Brandon C.--Hernandez, Derek--Marler, Donald M.--

--McGahan, Michael E.--Theinert, Joseph J.--Peney, Jonathan K.--

--Dilisio, Anthony A.--Suter, Jake W.--Leicht, Jacob C.--

--Rivera, Edwin--Barton, Christopher R.--Fingar, Jason D.--

--Barnard, Shane S.--Clark, Philip P.--Xavier Jr.,Patrick--

--Tomlinson, Joshua A.--Tieman, Richard J.--Belkofer, Thomas P.--

--Bartz, Paul R.--McHugh, John M.--Paradarodriguez, Nicholas D.--

--Anderson, Billy G.--Perkins, Adam L.--Wood, Zarian--

--Kisseloff, Denis D.--Desforges, Joshua D.--Lamar II, Donald J.--

--Johnson, Jeffery W.--May, Jr., Kenneth B.--Shea, Kurt S.--

--Brown, Jeremy L.--Comfort, Kyle A.--Davis, Joshua M.--

--Slack, Wade A.--Penny, Richard R.--Rangel, Christopher--

--Barrett, Brandon A.--Benson, Austin H. Gates--Coleman, Mark W.--

--Finniginam, Eric M.--Corma, Salvatore S.--Rivers Jr., Thomas E.--

--Kennedy, Nathan P.--Wichmann, Grant A.--Kubik, Ronald A.--

--Santora, Jason A.--Laborde, John K.--Barrett, Robert J.--

--Sigley, Randolph A.--Ingram Jr, Michael K.--Caron, Joseph T.--

--Durkin, Sean M.--Jankiewicz, Michael D.--Lackey, James B.--

--Voas, Randell D.--Hall, Jonathon D.--Borio, Roberto E. Diaz--

--Swenson, Curtis M.--World, Frank J.A.--Griffin, Tyler O.--

--Zilberman, Miroslav--Brunkhorst, Scott W.--Miller, James L.--

--Heck, Randy M.--Ross, Jacob A.--Centanni, Rick. J.--

--Cottle, Robert. J.--Wilson, Justin J.--Santos-Silva, Carlos M.--

--Brown, Adam Lee--Clarkson, Joel D.--Gilbert II, Robert L.--

--Whetten, Glen J.--Porto, Jonathan D.--Gamble, Garrett W.--

--Kropat, Jason M.--Richardson, Jonathan J.--Cook, Nicholas S.--

--Dikcis, Alan N.--Paci, Anthony A.--Olsen, Nigel K.--

--Owens, Vincent L.C.--Aragon, Carlos A.--Gelig, Ian T.D.--

--Huston, Matthew D.--Crumpler, Josiah D.--Ricketts, William S.--

--Gorra, Marcos--Hanson, Matthias N.--Ward, Eric L.

--Peak, Adam D.--Salvacion, JR Robiniol--Eckard, Christopher W.--

--Cardenaz, Michael David P.--Stultz, Gregory S.--Birchfield, Joshua H.--

--Dunn, Kielin T.--McQueary, Jeremy R.--Coutu, Kyle J.--

--Johnson, Larry M.--Yazzie, Alejandro J.--Currier, Eric D.--

--Pier, Noah M.--Estopinal, Jason H.--Turbett, Jacob H.--

--Reiners, John A.--Wittman, Jeremiah T.--Pagan, Bobby J.--

--Ray, Adam J.--Williams, Charles A.--Foxx, Dillon B.--

--Hartman, David J.--Sluss-Tiller, Matthew S.--Stets, Mark A.--

--Lovejoy, Zachary G.--Whitten, Daniel--Freeman Jr., Michael L.--

--Thompson, David J.--Decoteau, Marc Paul--Christian, Rusty H.--

--Smith, David J.--Gill, Carlos E.--Smith, Zachary D.--

--Angus, Daniel M.--Poole, Timothy J.--Kane, Jeremy M.--

--Qi, Xin--Montgomery, Thaddeus S.--Pena, Paul--

--Ginett, Adam K.--Shannon, Michael P.--Donevski, Robert--

--Hrbek, Christopher R.--Wright, Kyle J.--Beachnaw, Lucas T.--

--Merriweather, Daniel D.--Whitsitt, Geoffrey A.--Ingham, Matthew N.--

--Lowe, Jamie R.--Uzenski, Nicholas K.--Meinert, Jacob A.--

--Juarez, Mark D.--Hickman, Jason O. B.--Smith, Bradley R.--

--Dion, John P.--Lengstorf, Joshua A.--Bowman, Brian R.

Plantation Architecture: part 2, Arlington House

2011-01-08T00:07:00.001-05:00

The following pictures show pieces of the Robert E. Lee plantation home, called the Custis-Lee Mansion or Arlington House. Robert E. Lee married a Custis cousin. They share family with Martha Washington.

The mansion used to overlook orchards. Part of the war reparations (which besides describing payment also describe 'repair' of injury) was that 624 acres of land surrounding this plantation was deeded to the nation for a military grave site, the place we call Arlington National Cemetery. Later, the house was purchased by the Federal Government. The history of the transaction is itself a sign of Northern resentment and shady dealings, later made right with the Custis family in part by Abraham Lincoln's own son, Robert Todd.

It's interesting to note that the first Memorial Service at Arlington National Cemetery was officiated by President Herbert Hoover in 1929, a man that most of the U.S. despised at the time. And interesting that the Lincoln Memorial is sited to architecturally answer Arlington House, starting from 1867 when the site was only swamp. Every single marble slab on the Lincoln Memorial is a specific planned inclusion; every possible message that could be made is reinforced in the execution of it. Just as the Custis-Lee House was meant to advance one family, the Lincoln Memorial was always meant to include every state and every citizen of the United States. It was built to advance Union: to honor the man who stood for Union.

President Lincoln faced off Lee's Army of Northern Virginia in his last, most fateful years. Now the Lincoln Memorial faces and answers Arlington House. The arc between these two historical tacticians calls and answers to victory and defeat, personal sacrifice to personal loss, classical Greek to classical Roman, justice to injustice, a temple in a flat park to a home on a hill. Along this arc rests the costs of victory, defeat, ultimate effort, and ideals in contention: our nation's military casualties.

Arlington National Cemetery is administered by the Department of the Army. The Custis-Lee home is administered by the National Parks Service. It is currently undergoing some renovation, but it needs a lot more.

Yesterday, I posted on my ambivalence to historic preservation of plantation architecture. But for this site, I have none. Because it stands amidst Arlington's hallowed ground, because the Lincoln Memorial answers it in full, I believe it should be restored to the utmost. Every strength we give the building shows what Lincoln was up against. Every trapping we add to its interior gives Lincoln's complex simplicity and stern but compassionate code all the more significance.

The next pictures are not so beautiful. I could have cropped them to be, but I wish to show you what kind of work preservation might entail.

A humidity sensor on a marble mantel with oak-leaf carvings.

Probably much more than a simple paint job required.

Cracking lintel.

The slave quarters have been partially preserved and provide their own answer to the house and to Lincoln himself. The Parks Service exhibit inside shows that they tried to preserve as many memories as possible from these slaves, through the gathering of geneologies and spoken or written accounts.

Mrs. Lee liked to entertain, whether General Lee was home or not. She had a built-in chaperone, a cousin who never married, and whose economic health was therefore precarious. As a family hanger-on, she was apparently irritatingly cheerful. The slave quarters exhibit recalls a slave who used to do a good imitation of her. It called to my mind that the woman's suffrage movement and the abolition movement were entirely linked in their first years--that women could rarely own property, and that no slave could.

But most of all, the story was exceedingly funny. And I think that is also worth memorializing:

Next to the house on the hill, a tiny cabin held a contingent of oppressed people. But even oppressed, they still had intelligence, and opinions, and many tactics for endurance, including humor. These slaves are part of Lincoln's self-perceived care and duty; his Memorial looks to them as well. The slave quarters also represent the Custis-Lee stake in the argument: their right to extract care and duty. The argument expressed in the architecture is therefore three-fold. The slaves were more than a class or concern: They were individuals with wit. The account also recalls that history is full of little moments. The slave's humor under duress is akin to the humor of military men who endure under duress.

Well-built but small, and no amenities inside.

The Custis-Lee Mansion and its slave quarters make Lincoln's memorial complete: they recall the totality of moral argument and military effort, political certitude and uncertain outcomes stated whole in Lincoln's Second Inaugural address. The slave cabin finishes out the Custis-Lee argument in a moral sense, reminding us that grandeur lived through the toil of others. The slave quarters also resonate to that other answer: those that lie all around, out of pain at last and some for over a century, in Arlington National Cemetery. They remind us that those that suffered in war are more than a number. They were individuals who did not attain, for the most part, their full span of years and its expression.

May they rest in peace, along this arc of conflict and care, under flat turf or on the hill. May we care over these questions, and these dead, forever.

The Lincoln Memorial and Inscription

2011-01-08T00:02:00.000-05:00

In Which I Traded Out Granny's Necklace.

2011-01-07T01:00:00.002-05:00

Well, I went to the Epiphany party last night, from 6:30 to about 8:30. And I indeed traded out grandmother's necklace.

In its place, I have a cheap plastic Menorah with nine brand-new light bulbs, of which six work.
I put it on my bed stand. For now, it is sitting next to the cheap red plastic Santeria Buddha I bought in Juarez in 1995.

Plantation Architecture, part I

2011-01-07T00:01:00.032-05:00

I have cynical feelings about restoring Plantation Mansions. Most of them are depressing indeed: in want of funds, with period wallpaper books open to show what they want donations for, and a dusty mayonnaise jar for you to put those donations in.

Most of these homes are mouldering faster than John Brown's body. In Louisiana along the (Mississippi) River Road, you can see them gradually cut out from under by river water, industrial development, weather, mold, cockroaches, mice, and human neglect. Most of them have elegant proportions that speak past the shabbiness and decay. They represent a type of architecture which will never return.

European Tradition
If this was Europe, we would prize the chateaus where elegance once reigned at high human cost. Europeans don't raze their architecture just because there were dungeons in the basement full of torture implements, or even though rich young lordlings raped servant girls in the pantry or peed on the marquetry table legs in marble halls. During the French Revolution, they chopped off the heads of the Lords in the palace and those who tried to sell luxury goods to those Very Royal. This scared the hell out of the rest of Europe, but not enough to change central government. Napoleon showed up, and the Royal Pageant went on. So did war--but it was not a war to free the oppressed. It was a war of Kings against an Emperor. Like his forbears in French leadership, Napoleon sought to control all of Europe with a ruling class, not to abolish central rule.

Our Idea
But in this country, we ended slavery through means not strictly class-driven. It was a regional break, and yes an economic break, but not by class: all classes went to war against slave states or to preserve their 'peculiar institution'. Today I'm not delving deeply into the long but true history of how the slave class had to suffer too long, and never got an even break afterward--that's for another time. But this is where some cynicism lies when it comes to preserving Plantation Architecture.

The American ideal of equality for all, plus a disdain for losing, makes a full-out federal preservation protection of plantation items seem ludicrous. Why would the United States of America revere the homes of its lost oppressor class? Yet those who don't grow up in the South never quite figure out that shabby plantation homes recollect war depredations (Sherman's torch) or reparations (carpetbaggers). Each failing site signifies that an entire economic class was decimated, that they were taxed and driven out of business, that they gave their all (gallantly) and lost. So in the South, preservation of the "highest achievement" is complicated by the fact that their best wasn't good enough. It was too long on grandeur, too short on foundries. Too cruel to sustain, but it propped elegance. A shabby Southern plantation denotes high ambivalence due to unresolved injury and the memory of historical outrage. Pick the injury and the outrage depending on who you are.

Therefore, any restoration of plantation architecture seemingly speaks to a lack of ambivalence: that the North should have left the South alone, and onward to that slavery somehow was acceptable. Onlookers who wish the Confederate flag to disappear distrust the motives of plantation preservation. .In this country, such preservation is a political statement. But I think the statement could and should be be more complex.

Yes, these plantation homes describe the high living of careless and cruel rich white people. Maybe some were "good to their slaves". They turned the cruelty over to subcontractors: foremen, patrollers, estate agents, so they could accord themselves this luxury of kind treatment on the face-to-face or escape altogether. And we do this now whenever we buy goods produced by slave labor elsewhere. These homes have the capability of throwing present sins into our faces, too. The ambivalence may be about a present international economy as well.

These homes also describe, just as the Egyptian pyramids do, or Versailles, or any Gothic chapel, the workmanship and artisan craft of the working class. Plantation sites don't just describe a place where whipping posts were used--but a place where black artisans designed and built sugar refineries, timber mills, environmentally suitable homes, levees that held back swamps, defensive avenues of fire, forest fire abatement, and strong buildings for storage and their own, far-lesser habitations. Most of these artisans are not recorded in history, just as the masons of palaces and cathedrals and pyramids are not. Most of them were never remunerated and hardly recognized.

And Just Maybe . . .
Maybe historical preservation can bring out that an enslaved people contributed mightily to American historical infrastructure. That without the unnamed architects of the sugar refinery, the unnamed engineers of the levees, and the faithful work undertaken, we would not be who we are and what we are today. I think when we preserve mansions and slave quarters, we should preserve technological works as well--less glamorous, far more important. Then we could see that despite every attempt to stifle personality, capital aggregation, and justifiable pride in the slave, their contributions remain. Our very map would be different along the Eastern seaboard and the Southern coastline were it not for these unnamed souls.

We could find a way to honor slaves at these sites as well as deplore their situation. We could advance our understanding of history and the human spirit--gifted and superior, even in slavery. Something past Gone With the Wind, King Tut, European Lords and Medieval Popes. Something that reconciles this historical ambivalence by refusing to bury any part of it. Something that gives shape to current national aspirations.

Still, though I believe this could be achieved, I remain cynical. I wonder, when the last plantation house in the South collapses, will we be done fixing the scars by then? On the other hand, I remember that forgetting history is like being blind to a warning. We have long been blind to the achievements of the unknown laborer, whether we espouse their cause en masse or not. So I do not know the answer.

Tomorrow, a plantation architecture that should be preserved . . . . or at least I think so . . . .

C.V.'s Birthday

2011-01-06T06:58:00.001-05:00

The day after Christmas
I hear C.V. before I see him:
a beautiful baritone voice.

Only if you can, please!
Only if you can.

He jingles a plastic cup. He sees me.
"Hello, love. How are you?"

I have some change for him.
For the Season,

His cup has a jester ring of red and green
felt spikes with bells on the end.
It's Holiday: the cup is full of fold.

I drop a quarter in.
"How was your Christmas?"

The day before Christmas he said,
"Some asshole stole my bike."
"That's bad."
"Too cold to ride it anyway."
He laughed. "I'm almost glad to let it go."

But for Christmas, he had a wonderful time.
His former wife's children had him over.
She died some time ago.
It makes him sad
And he drank a little.

"You know," he says. "I never drink.
But I thought one wouldn't hurt."

I nod. He changes his story.
"I stood up and I was dizzy.
And the kids told me to sit down and rest.
I was drinking cranberry juice. I didn't know
anything was in it. And they just kept giving me more."

I nod again.
"But I had fun," he says.
"The only thing I feel bad about,
I wanted to take pictures of my children
and I forgot."

I nod, third time.
"You'll find another opportunity."
He nods back. "Yes I will."
He smiles at me. "New Year's Eve is my birthday."
"Well, how about that?" I smile back.
"Only if you can!" he calls. "Only if you can."

On New Year's Eve,
he has a boombox with him,
still playing Christmas music.
I slip a dollar in: "Happy Birthday."

I'm Perfectly Serious

2011-01-05T00:45:00.001-05:00

I receive a newsletter from an organization that studies stressors on police officers in the field, including at the point of conflict. I have things to write about that--I have learned a lot.

But the thing that I keep thinking about on and off is a perhaps less acute problem--instead it's a nagging problem: the problem of lower back ache for police officers wearing lots of heavy equipment around their waists.

I know of at least one police officer with serious lower back pain. And he is not an officer with a pot gut that is swaying his spine. I'm willing to bed good cash that he does sit-ups, cross-training, and weighs the right amount.

And sometimes I think a little fix makes a big difference. So, in my armchair, without any experience whatsoever, I keep turning to problems of Design and Ergonomics. I should say also that I haven't studied Ergonomics worth a damn. However, Design always interests me.

Does anyone out there understand the lower back? I would like to know where weight should be distributed. In addition, there has to be a way to include safety and security as well as ease of reach for these heavy tools and weapons that officers carry.

Image via WikipediaSince I am also an armchair historian, I ruminated over historical methods. And this is funny, and I don't think it would work: the bandolier. It's a bit of a stretch thinking that a modern LEO wants to imitate Pancho Villa.

But I am perfectly serious in my interest to this question. So please write in if you have any ideas whatsoever. It's turning into one of those symbolic concerns I think: there's just too darn much on a policeman's back.

And that might be the psychological truth behind some of that back pain after all.

So I Have Work

2011-01-04T03:11:00.000-05:00

Meetings all day yesterday. The power blew--some stupid contractor. The elevator broke. Then after-hours, a meeting to discuss who we might hire as a manager at the condo.
Meeting to discuss the latest blow-up at the Front Desk. This is unpleasant but not usual--it's just a symptom of having no leadership for so long, and because that is changing. Still I have three write-ups to do and then deliver, which will be a full day.

Meeting to discuss other personnel issues. Three more write-ups. Then a list of questions to answer for other people. the financial statements came in and I will write the report on that instead of the general manager.

So I'm sorry. No post today! I am not complaining about the work--for once it will get us somewhere. But I miss letting you guys in on the fun. Plus I have ideas for four good posts. Later, mon amis!

I can't believe I do this stuff for free. Just crazy.

The Poetry Bus: Good Housekeeping

2011-01-03T00:01:00.007-05:00

This week, The Professor gave three choices in a prompt for the New Year: a. a poem about ten minutes and the progress of feeling during that time; b. a poem about constructive change in the New Year; or c. a version of Auld Lang Syne. (She does explain this better in her post, linked above.)

Thanks to Peader at TotalFeckinEejit for administering the bus station--and all those who have delivered poetry prompts since I have been participating. Their blogs are The Weaver of Grass, The Muse Swings, and now Revolutionary Revelry.
And also thanks to the other participants, who have come by to comment and who have also contributed to the Bus! I have enjoyed checking out new lives, new views, new words. The world of poetry is alive and well, at least in the electronic media. Happy New Year to you all, and many fine words!

No Escape

I hide from those I should easily meet;

Often I wonder where my courage went.

And when bravery returns and sets my feet

I find my efforts were mostly mis-spent.

Many I know dismiss change for the good,

They want just what they please, and nothing more.

I recoil from petty injustice and brood

Amidst petty pleasures behind my doors.

Often I am angered by an unjust world,

Along with my failure to prevail in it;

Sometimes those two are so tightly curled,

That faulting others makes me a hypocrite.

To stand for another, to attack all that’s worst

I must straighten my house; be just inside first.

-- Ann T. Hathaway

A Book for Poets

2011-01-03T00:00:00.048-05:00

I offer this book to poetry writers--

Lewis Turco, The Book of Forms: A Handbook of Poetics. University Press of New England. Available.
Mine is I think a second edition: "The New Book of Forms" but there's a third edition out.

Professor Turco has gathered Norse, Welsh, Anglo-Saxon, Japanese, medieval, modern, archaic forms--as many forms as possible--the complaint, the Blues Stanza, the rondeau, free verse, tanka et cetera. The forms don't all rhyme; they don't all count syllables. Since it's a handbook, it doesn't give you subjects or "ways to be inspired" or even pep talks. I sometimes use it to help me pick a form for the poems I write, or help me remember which sonnet is the English and which the Italianate.

I would never sit down and say, "It's time to write a Welsh englyn today!" (except for practice, maybe).
I look through the book, and see if my verse ideas fits a form that might further it. Then I try to give my words that form. If the form makes the soul of the poem disappear, then I don't pursue that form any longer.

Other poets I know don't need this book. They have their method of building worked out, their voice, their way of invoking the soul. And their poems are meaningful and lovely to read or hear.

But I recommend it more than any book for writing poetry I've ever seen. It never tells you what to do; it only tells you what you Can do. It describes where others have been before and found a way to pump up the volume.

----also soliciting other recommendations . . . .

December Muster

2011-01-02T00:09:00.003-05:00

Every month, the Ann T. Hathaway blog remembers law enforcement officers who died in the line of duty the previous month. Once again, we must count the costs of safety and security in human life.

Each of these deaths is untimely. Each loss affects the family of the fallen, their friends, their colleagues, and their communities. They affect us all.

--David DeLaittre--Dewayne Crenshaw--Brandon Coates

--Wesley Whitmore Jr.--Bryan Terry--James Lister--

--Andrew Rameas--Cliff Rouse--Ann O'Donnell--Michael Schaefer--

--John Maguire--Chadwick LeCroy--Jillian Smith--

I learned about these officers on the Officer Down Memorial Page.

The Old Station

2011-01-02T00:03:00.002-05:00

from the Popol Vuh

2011-01-01T00:57:00.001-05:00

Image via Wikipedia

Page from the Dresden Codex

The Popol Vuh is the ancient text of the Quiche', in territory we now call Guatemala. They were a Mayan people. My favorite part of the text isn't very studious in choice: one of the first men, Jaguar Quitze, had a wife named Not Right Now.

But what follows below comes before the advent of mankind. And at the beginning of the year, nothing better than to start at the beginning of the world: creation.

--
This is the beginning of the Ancient Word, here in this place called Quiche'. Here we shall inscribe, we shall implant the Ancient Word, the potential and source for everything done in the citadel of Quiche' , in the nation of the Quiche' people.
And here we shall take up the demonstration, revelation, and account of how things were put in shadow and brought to light by

the Maker, Modeler,
named Bearer, Begetter,
Hunahpu Possum, Hunahpu Coyote,
Great White Peccary, Coati,
Sovereign Plumed Serpant,
Heart of the Lake, Heart of the Sea,
plate shaper, bowl shaper, as they are called,
also named, also described as
the midwife, matchmaker
named Xpiyacoc, Xmucane,
defender, protector,
twice a midwife, twice a benefactor.

. . . . . .

This is the Account, here it is:
Now it still ripples, now it still murmurs, ripples, it still sighs, still hums, and it is empty under the sky.
Here follow the first words, the first eloquence.
There is not yet one person, one animal, bird, fish, crab, tree, rock, hollow, canyon, meadow, forest. Only the sky alone is there; the face of the earth is not clear. Only the sea alone is pooled under all the sky; there is nothing whatever gathered together. It is at rest; not a single thing stirs. It is held back, kept at rest under the sky.
Whatever there is that might be is simply not there: only the pooled water, only the calm sea, only it alone is pooled.
Whatever might be is simply not there: only murmurs, ripples, in the dark, in the night. Only the Maker, Modeler alone, Sovereign Plumed Serpent, the bearers, begetters in the water, a glittering light. They are there, they are enclosed in quetzal feathers, in blue-green.
Thus the name, "Plumed Serpent". They are great knowers, great thinkers, in their very being.
And of course there is the sky, and there is the Heart of the Sky. This is the name of the God, as it is spoken.

And then came his word . . . .

--

The Heart of the Sky is the Hurricane. And this I think is all very interesting. It gets even more interesting. Just like our year will. I suppose we will start it with breakfast, and then it will get every minute more complex. It will be life.

Happy New Year to you all.

The Popol Vuh: The Definitive Edition of the Mayan Book of the Dawn of Life and the Glories of Gods and Kings. Revised Edition. Trans. Dennis Tedlock. A Touchstone/Simon & Schuster Book, (1985, 1996). Excerpts from pp. 63-65. If you read Spanish, there is a lot of significant study on this manuscript taking place as they translate it from the Mayan language to modern Spanish. It might be worth looking up!

Fats Waller: Lulu's On The Town!!! (1935)

2010-12-31T02:43:00.000-05:00

For all of you going out tonight, be sure and dress like you're running into Lulu somewhere. And that means sharp, baby. Totally for effect.
But most of all, don't drink and drive. Lulu wants you to get where you're going. All Right Now! Fats!

Every Year

2010-12-31T00:07:00.018-05:00

Every year I keep a journal. Not a diary, because I can't fit a day in a tiny page.
Some days need no writing; other days pages and pages.

This year I kept it on-line, on a closed site. When I was at my worst, and couldn't go on-line, I couldn't use my journal either. Lessons learned.

Every year I buy one poetry book from one living poet. We love the poems tested by time, but we need to keep this craft going. I realize my one poetry book is not going to keep this going, but it's a start.

Every year I have black-eyed peas for New Year's Day. One of my concessions to good luck aggregation. And it's painless-what's not to like?
I also have a horseshoe over my door.

Every year I make a list of resolutions. Oh, who am I kidding? Every other day I make a list of resolutions.
Time to get cracking--I've got an hour or so left.

Upcoming Posts & Traditions
I have been working on some posts for January. I don't know if sixteen months and 535 posts allows me to qualify for tradition, but I think maybe so. (I started this gig in September 2009. The posts for August 2009 are all back-dated.)

Every month the Ann T. Hathaway blog remembers the sacrifices of law enforcement officers here. The post for December will go up January 2, 2011. I'm going to keep doing this throughout 2011.

During National Fire Week, the Ann T. Hathaway blog noted the sacrifices of the fire and EMS services. And again next year.

Every year the Ann T. Hathaway blog mentions the sacrifices of our military personnel over the past year.
Those posts will be going up on Sundays in January (the 9th and 16th so far) until this blog has noted them all--not every fear or pain or triumph--of course not--but a complete record of the fallen.

Continuing Series
Judging by the numbers, my gang pages are used and looked at. I'm going to try to fill in some interesting things on that over the next year.

The "Cities Crime and Economics Series" will get more posts. It is not as well-read as the gang pages, but I think useful from time to time for my readers. It also keeps me sharp.

This coming year, I want to take more photographs. But, I want to get brave and take street-side portraits. You'll see if I meet that goal.

And the Personal
Plus, I am sure there will be more on the Condo Board. There will be more poetry from the living and the dead. I want to include more passages from books on strategy, more memories, more street-side stories.

My biggest Ann T. resolution is to include advances in the present-day, non electronic world--maybe even some fiction published here and there. Thanks to my readers for cheering me on this year.

Come see your achievements--your good influence--because you have been. Thanks for everything you've done. Thanks for my advances, however uneven my performance at times, in 2010. Thanks for everything. I mean that.

Have a great day!

Every year I keep a journal . . . .

Greens for the New Year

2010-12-30T23:39:00.000-05:00

These are the white versions of ornamental Kale. A looseleaf one and a tighter-headed one.

I couldn't find them yesterday evening. Here you go, Bob and The Observer! More Martian lettuce. Although these don't look quite as wild as the other one did.

Full of Cheek

2010-12-29T00:46:00.000-05:00

In the post below, Ann T. posted gritty pictures. She keeps running on and on about unrealized genius. But then there's dinner. An acorn, as it happens. Enjoy!

Jan T.and D'Love, Nearly Famous Around Here--

2010-12-29T00:08:00.002-05:00

Now mind you, I understand this tagging or graffiti is vandalism, a crime. However, I am interested in it as a way that some express identity and hostility--or if not hostility, how they extend their space in the world.

I think taggs are similar to Queen Elizabeth's elaborate panniered skirts, soaring cathedrals, and election signs--extended "space-taking" through "decoration". They can be critiqued, therefore, and analyzed. The stakes in this activity are different for different people; you can kind of tell what the stakes by the actual tags that you see. I use a kind of amateur handwriting analysis coupled with number of tags, and amount of effort expended to reclaim space and fill it in.

A guy like Che needs to have a venue. He's developed some techniques. I'd like to see a large canvas from him--what he could do on the legitimate side.

I had this one figured out except for the J. Fortunately, Janti provided a helpful key.

On painted cinderblocks, along an alley. This is a pawn shop wall. As you will see through this post, he's still trying for the perfect signature. Don't ask me why I think he's a he. Never met him.

A space with poor graffiti remediation ALWAYS gets more graffiti.

Now my next question is: if you look at Che above, there are initials associated. Is this his fans--they don't disturb his work--or is it a message of some sort from Che himself, or a tribute to a sponsor? Then D'Love here has somebody R--k below them. Did R--k come first, then D'Love established supremacy, and then both of them were crossed out by someone else?

Here is D'Love not crossed out. This is a girl. I think so, anyway--after the jump.

She's got good control. Of the can, anyway.

Janti has been busy. We have a non-strategic defense on the part of this business. All they did was give him a glowing white field to play with. Art criticism: he didn't extend himself much to his canvas. Still it's a public intersection. But I conclude he is more interested in claiming space than developing his talents. And I could go way out on a limb and say that's a problem with his personal security. Threat interferes with training.

If you look closely, Mars painted here before in black. The owner painted it out with a slightly different white. Now when Mars paints himself in again, his name has texture. Art criticism: Mars hasn't exploited the surface enough, or the possibilities of the can of paint. Also I've seen his tags nowhere else. This is the only place. If it's so important that you come back, why not dress your tag up a little? The impulse is met once the name is in. It's not art. It's territory.

Nineteen days later. Totally different neighborhood. It would be quite a walk. Not impossible though.

His name is starting to look like Jan Tsi. Still it's the same angular J. I think it's the same dude. If not, could this be the kind of thing that starts a tagger blast? I'll never know unless I look.

Two more. Two different names. I think this surface has been treated. You'll notice all the paint disperses on the brick, which means I think that it's going to wash off.

I think this next one reads differently between urban residential and suburban/rural residential. If this was on a house, it would seem like a personal insult to an inhabitant, or an invasion of privacy. (Or at least where I grew up.) But since it's in a highly gay neighborhood, very high rise, it seems more like an affirmation or call to arms, or just, territorial. More that "I'm here to stay" than "I want you to leave." It's political.

Kweer!

Here is (Amen?) MOA with Cuzo on top. This does look hostile to me. Can't explain it, exactly, it just does.
But I remain fascinated. I will look for these names elsewhere. See if I can confirm this impression.

The MOA is also one of the initials in the Che picture. I think it stands for something, but not Member of the Academy. Now racking my brain. If anyone knows, Please Write In.

And may it interest you, even if it doesn't thrill you--

Have a great day, everybody!

A Long Dying Before Two Deaths at 1744 E. 75th Street

2010-12-28T00:16:00.001-05:00

This is what this post is about.

Photo originally Chicago Tribune; H/T The Fire Critic

Image by Getty Images via @daylife

On December 22, 2010, nineteen firefighters were injured at the site of the former Sing Way laundry. Four were trapped in rubble when the roof caved in. There is a tasteful but revealing photo series on the page here. It shows, among other things, that the Sing Way laundry was a red brick, slightly higher than one-story building.

Two of those trapped firefighters will be mourned this week. The other injured are healing from non-critical injuries somewhere off-camera--all released from the hospital, at least. And everyone in the Chicago FD, their families and friends, are surely rocked. It is the largest loss of life for the Chicago FD in a decade.

Today, Tuesday December 28th, the funeral for Edward Stringer will take place at 10:00 a.m. He had twelve years of service in the Chicago FD and reportedly loved his job. He leaves behind two grown children. He had a dog named Roscoe.

On Thursday, December 30, 2010, Corey Ankum's funeral will take place at 11:00 a.m. He had two years in the fire service. He was a former police officer; he had a wife and three children, the youngest of whom is one year old. His brother is a firefighter in the same house. They lived across the street from each other.

It is the numbers of deaths and injuries that drove the investigative journalists to find out the cause of these deaths. And I think there are three.

One: Negligence.

According to this NBC Chicago article:

The property, at 1738-1744 E. 75th St., was cited more than three years ago for a number of violations, including:

failing to maintain the parapet wall in good repair and free from cracks and defects...
failing to maintain the lintel in good repair and free from cracks and defects...
failing to maintain roof in sound condition and repair, watertight and free from defects...

In an Aug. 20, 2007 report, it was noted that holes were present in the roof and that it was leaking and rotten in some areas. The report concluded the owners, Chuck Dai and Richard Dai, had failed to maintain the structure in a safe and stable condition.

Among other fixes, the building's owners were ordered to restore the roof loads to their original use by removing additional weights and structures attached to the trusses.

City officials weren't able to verify Wednesday evening whether the property was still in violation following a Nov. 1, 2010 repair deadline.

Chuck Dai had been in court at least seven times in reference to the building and had indicated to the city that he expected it to go into foreclosure. A city official said Dai told them that he was attempting to reach an agreement by which he could deed the property back to his mortgage provider.

The Long Dying
So, those trusses. The Fire Critic has posted a great deal of information on his site about the fire, including a video from a former Fire Chief/textbook writer/expert consultant. One of the things he said is that very type of roof (a bow-string truss) is one of the more dangerous sorts of roofs for a fire. So I looked up the construction: it's curved, and an "economy roof". In steel, this can cross large expanses, but it's a tension apparatus. So that roof was overloaded with "additional weights and structures" that screwed the tension distribution that holds it up. And really, I suppose that goes for any roof.

One example of a bow-spring truss.

But the roof didn't crumble, or at least not first: the wall did. So this is what I think the deal is: just guessing.
The Dai brothers rented to a low-overhead dry-cleaning establishment "as-is". Neither tenant nor landlord hired engineers to help them place their equipment. They've probably been in code violation for a long time.

The rent got paid until the dry-cleaners folded in 2005. The Dai brothers either didn't inspect their property when it was rented, or they didn't care, or they didn't see what was in front of them. The structure-compromising equipment rusted in place. The brick walls didn't get tuck-pointed, the wood didn't get painted, and the walls degraded. The extra stress on the roof pulled more heavily on the walls. The walls cracked. And the roof leaked. The degradation speeds up. And the repairs didn't happen.

Two: Carelessness
The now-abandoned building was boarded up. But such things also take supervision. You have to check them, re-board, evict, sweep out, re-tighten. Because people will try to get in. They break in to get warm or to make deals or to escape the law.

Some vagrant lit a trash fire in the rear of the building. It got out of hand. The building went up at 7:00 a.m. The crew rushed out. They would have seen and probably known in advance, just like the police and the building inspectors, that this building was bad news. They had the fire beaten back, but were checking for hot spots on the roof and people inside. So dangerous building or not, a crew went in: to save life, to investigate, to be sure they were done.

Three: Blunt Trauma
More than one hundred seventy personnel were there. Two that came out died in the hospital of blunt trauma, when wood and brick piled on top of them. One firefighter injured his eyes by taking off his mask, giving oxygen to his brother-in-arms in the rubble.

So now:

Chuck Dai, who owns the building with younger brother Richard, reported himself as "in tears."

Perhaps he was. He is also on record to say that "he was just ready to send a construction crew in." Perhaps that's true too.

But it doesn't satisfy, somehow. Those tears don't remedy three to four years of compliance avoidance. They don't wash away a record of the city suing him three times since 1987 over code compliance. They don't keep us from noting his wish that defaulting on financial responsibility would remove the problem for him.

We as a society value human life. We also know that one fire can bring down an entire city. (London, 1666. Chicago, 1871. San Francisco, 1906.) We send in the few to save the many.

And it seems gothic today. It seems wrong. It seems like the ne'er do wells got the free ride. They still live; they took no risk. They have a chance to keep doing what they always do.

The truth is, the first responders go in for all of us. Because fire spreads, and we all potentially lose.

But we lost anyway. We lost two very fine firefighters, two good people.

But nobody lost more than Edward Stringer and Corey Ankum. May they rest in peace.

May we learn from this. May we be diligent in our responsibilities. And careful with fire.

The Set-up: 126 Words

2010-12-27T05:30:00.002-05:00

Zombie Boss resigns. I clean his desk, the papers as scattered as his mind. He avoided conflict; he shoved those things aside. I find bills that should have been paid, shingled with post-it notes. On them, Zombie Assistant paints a problem. I find bills that belong to others, or for things we don't pay. These have no warnings.

An employee has already said Zombie Assistant hid bills from him. Then she'd call our President, worried over bills unpaid. I find a stash she moved into his office, after.

She used his failings. She shortened his tenure, and I think his life.

Maybe this seems imaginary. But I see a difference in organization and placement.

The stink of ill-will covers the desk. I won't let this go.

The Poetry Bus: That Bad Gift

2010-12-27T00:04:00.000-05:00

I nearly passed on this Poetry Bus, hosted by The Muse Swings. Because, you know: ingratitude and all that. But then I got an idea and started laughing. It's also perfectly true.

The Dregs of the Heirlooms

The gift that arrived in the mail
Was a heirloom from grandmother’s stash
And though dear granny had plenty of dough,
She never had very much class.
The necklace was orange with blue plastic discs;
It clashed with my sister’s attire.
O horrid necklace, o necklace so bad
What a tacky piece of crap that you are, you are
What a tacky piece of crap that you are!

The note that came on this Christmas gift
Said: This reminds me of you!
And with the wrapping unwrapped, and truth unveiled
My sister didn’t know what to do.
Stepmom doesn’t know me, or she doesn’t care
And how will I fake Christmas glee?
Oh horrid gift note, oh gift note so bad,
What a snarky little note that you be, you be,
What a snarky little fake pleasantry!

But now sister’s so pleased: she’s sending the thing
To the home of wise-cracking Ann T.
I’ll exchange it for some other horrid re-gift
At a party on Epiphany.
With luck, someone tacky will draw it in lots--
Or else we will laugh while they cringe!
Oh horrid necklace, o necklace so bad,
My sister will get her revenge, her revenge,
My sister will get her revenge.

Leaves, November 21, 2010

2010-12-26T14:28:00.000-05:00

Just getting organized. And I thought they turned out.

One more after the jump, of a tree this time.

Ann T. Power Broker

2010-12-26T00:39:00.050-05:00

If you read the title fast, it sounds like "anti-power" broker. Take your pick.

I wrote that we had an employee theft situation here. In the immediate aftermath, the Board (herinafter, the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen) closed our network to this employee in the name of records security. We also found that he had been selling things on-line that looked remarkably like items we stock here for repairs.

Bad enough that a unit was robbed. Now we had to consider other possible grievances.

Image via Wikipedia

Nemo, Watching for Tentacles.

Captain Nemo Freaks Out
We then got a legal opinion, and learned that work-site e-mail of all stripes was the property of the employer. So we looked at other employee e-mail boxes to see how widespread this marketing situation might be. And one of the League of Extraordinary Gentleman started obsessing.

Nemo recently lost his job. It was a mystery to him, but not to the rest of the League. He never does any work. He waits until other people present hours of work and comes up with an objection. I am sure he feels like this is the right thing to do, but he's a putz.

This situation excited and terrified him by turns. He browsed employee personal mail, poached the contact position from another Board member with the network administrator, et cetera. It was quite the warning on despotism. And only his peers could stop it, which is quite the lesson in democracy, too.

But we weren't very effing fast at it. And really, he had all that free time. It was hard to keep up.

We warned him. But he started giving orders, each one more erratic than the next. For instance, I received these panicky e-mails ("cut the cord on the shredders! watch all the doors to make sure no evidence leaves!") I finally let him have it. Usually I am diplomatic. Not this time. I was stomping the putz.

At the next meeting, Nemo was just as panicky and querulous as before, but more erratic and rude.
So that's just the end. I know it's not real war, but I went to war.

Image via Wikipedia

Mina Murray, we need you!

Ann T. Panic Mode
If you read that fast, it sounds like anti-panic mode. Maybe.

That "last straw" meeting was the pre-meeting before our Annual Meeting and Elections. We were headed to the mob, or at least that's what we were afraid of. Every Owner wanted to know about the theft situation. They were up in arms about the betrayal of trust. Of course, we are negligent and dumb-assed, a poor sorry excuse for leadership. But nobody was running to replace us.

We had two vacant seats. As a favor, Nemo was planning to run again by acclamation after all. He kept asking, "Now how do I do this?" None of us told him. He did figure it out though.

Weeks before, I'd nagged Allan Quartermain to run by acclamation at the Annual Meeting. And he planned to run; he just didn't want to campaign. Quartermain is just who we need--calm, humorous, and a management consultant by day.

I'd thought about a second person, Mina Murray, who is socially adept, level-headed, and an office manager. I didn't ask her though. I didn't think she wanted to do it, and two days wasn't enough notice.

But I saw Mina at the Annual Meeting, right after Nemo drove me to the brink. I think I grabbed her. I'm pretty sure I didn't shake her. I didn't get on my knees either, but nearly. Her eyes were as wide as saucers and she was nodding as if to a crazy woman while I whispered how important it was. But at least she agreed to run.

That was two minutes' notice instead of two days' notice. I'm not pleased with myself over that.

But I quickly wrote a nominating speech for Mina while Board President Mycroft Holmes ran the meeting. I also gave my Treasurer's report. We had an impromptu/tacky awards ceremony for our committee volunteers over the past year--my idea, just so we'd maybe get a few more after some recognition.

Later, I attempted to nominate Quartermain, who said he would nominate himself. Then I nominated Mina from the floor. She gave her own campaign speech--which I thought was a great sign. The vote was tallied.

President Mycroft Holmes
Afterwards Mycroft Holmes stopped me outside.
"Just how did you arrange this coup d'etat?"

"Didn't you see me?" I said. "I begged, that's how."

"No, I didn't see that. Somebody said you had, though. But how did you get them elected?"
I debated whether to add. Because the begging was the answer.
"I talked to everyone in that meeting hall," I told him. "I fetched coffee and cookies for anyone who didn't have any. I asked them how they were."
He waited.

"When I gave my presentation, I didn't stand behind the podium," I said next. "I always come out from behind and then I am one of the people."
He rolled his eyes.

"And in my Treasurer's report, I thanked every other member of the League for something specific that they did, except I didn't mention Nemo at all."
"Huh." Mycroft shook his head.

"And then I made it clear who I thought should be nominated," I said. "And then I just hoped it would work."

"Well, thank you," he said. "I still don't know how you did it, but thank you for doing it."
"You should thank Mina," I told him. "She's the one who agreed to this with no notice."

To stop tyranny, at least in these tiny circles I run in, we needed a volunteer.

In four days time, we grew a small-minded madman, a witch-hunter on our Board. He was injudicious, indiscreet. He cloaked it all in principles ("the safety of the residents"), but he was dangerous. He was going to sink our whole damn ship in some crazed quest for secret but irrelevant information. And we have enough leaks in our ship already.

Mycroft Holmes is now calling me a behind-the-scenes power broker. What I think I did was break a power, not broker one.

Thank you, Allan Quartermain and Thank You, Mina Murray!
We need you against the Zombies.
And Happy New Year to the Arkdale residents.
You now have a fighting chance at one.

Merry Christmas

2010-12-25T00:20:00.006-05:00

These photos are red and green and not traditional like holly or ivy. Still, they are my Christmas card to you.

Have a Great Day, Everyone!

from Ann T. Hathaway.

Happy Birthday Clara Barton

2010-12-25T00:07:00.000-05:00

Clara Barton (December 25, 1821 -- April 12, 1912) learned medicine at her brother's bedside, starting at age 11. At 22, she was a teacher. And in 1861, she was treating wounded Union soldiers in the U.S. Capitol.

In 1865, Abraham Lincoln put her in charge of finding missing soldiers in the Civil War. But she is best known as the organizer of the American Red Cross. Clara Barton is a symbol of tireless mercy in action. (Although in real life, I'm sure she did get tired.)

Thanks to those who serve our troops and our society through their medical skills--the paramedics, the E.R. nurses, the E.R. docs, the clinic staff.
This Christmas, the troops are on call, and they need your helping hand. People still get sick and injured right here at home--that doesn't stop for the holidays either. And there you are. A lot of times we're too sick, or too scared about someone else, to thank you at the time. So thank you now.

Happy Birthday Clara Barton. Your work lives on.

Happy Christmas Eve and Day

2010-12-24T00:20:00.005-05:00

Ann T. wishes her readers a Very Nice Christmas.

Whether you believe or not,

celebrate or not.

Whether you are alone

or have family or friends to celebrate with.
A very nice Christmas to you all.

To all: please don't drink and drive, or get stoned and drive. Call a ride or stay where you are.
If you are alone, plan against loneliness. It's a coping strategy. Plan for a good day.
--
I talked to a cab driver the other day, an immigrant from Ethiopia. His daughter is two years and four months old this Christmas. He can't wait to show her Christmas for the first time. He reported that she asked: "Daddy, what is a Christmas tree?" He was so proud.

"So I had to go get one, you know, to show her."
We talked a little bit about how exciting it was to view through her eyes. And I said parents do that a lot: they get excitement from their kids.

"Love pushes you," he said. "See, she pushed me, and now we have a tree, and everything."
He was thrilled.

They are having a traditional Christmas dinner, but also a lot of cakes, he told me. And maybe also some Italian food.

I love it. Write me if you want, and say what you are having and doing.
If you are having turkey, tell me what's in your stuffing. I collect stuffing stories all holiday season. Everybody does theirs differently. Next year I may start an official Ann T. survey!
--
My cats are having Turkey Surprise out of a can. We are having a play date.
I am having pancakes with maple syrup, sausage AND bacon for brunch, and then going out to take a lot of pictures. I bought a Michael Connelly novel and will read that. Then I think I might have a lot of cakes and Italian food. Or maybe just the cakes.

Happy Christmas!

A Christmas Carol for the Night Watch

2010-12-23T00:07:00.008-05:00

This is my favorite of them all: God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen. It's also my sister's favorite. I think it's a good mix of the spiritual, the reassuring, and the historical. It's also easy on the ears, which Jingle Bells is not. So for those who might be reading who are not Christian, I hope you will enjoy (as I do) the inherent humanity in it.

The lyrics were first collected in the 1800's, but have been around since the 15th century. It is also a carol associated with the night watchmen of English villages, who used to sing it for tips hundreds of years before tax dollars paid for city security.

This is Annie Lennox, with her clear voice and some great minor key harmonics. (Sorry, you do get a commercial first.) The video is meant to convey the "mummers" of English folk life also.

A special thanks to all our watchmen and women,

keeping us safe during holiday hours.

Merry Christmas to you all.

Thank you for the gifts you give us--security, confidence--

every day of every year.

I got the lyrics from carols-dot-org from the United Kingdom. They are below the jump.

God rest ye merry, gentlemen

Let nothing you dismay

Remember, Christ, our Saviour

Was born on Christmas day

To save us all from Satan's power

When we were gone astray

O tidings of comfort and joy,

Comfort and joy

O tidings of comfort and joy.

In Bethlehem, in Israel,

This blessed Babe was born

And laid within a manger

Upon this blessed morn

The which His Mother Mary

Did nothing take in scorn

O tidings of comfort and joy,

Comfort and joy

O tidings of comfort and joy

From God our Heavenly Father

A blessed Angel came;

And unto certain Shepherds

Brought tidings of the same:

How that in Bethlehem was born

The Son of God by Name.

O tidings of comfort and joy,

Comfort and joy

O tidings of comfort and joy

"Fear not then," said the Angel,

"Let nothing you affright,

This day is born a Saviour

Of a pure Virgin bright,

To free all those who trust in Him

From Satan's power and might."

O tidings of comfort and joy,

Comfort and joy

O tidings of comfort and joy

The shepherds at those tidings

Rejoiced much in mind,

And left their flocks a-feeding

In tempest, storm and wind:

And went to Bethlehem straightway

The Son of God to find.

O tidings of comfort and joy,

Comfort and joy

O tidings of comfort and joy

And when they came to Bethlehem

Where our dear Saviour lay,

They found Him in a manger,

Where oxen feed on hay;

His Mother Mary kneeling down,

Unto the Lord did pray.

O tidings of comfort and joy,

Comfort and joy

O tidings of comfort and joy

Now to the Lord sing praises,

All you within this place,

And with true love and brotherhood

Each other now embrace;

This holy tide of Christmas

All other doth deface.

O tidings of comfort and joy,

Comfort and joy

O tidings of comfort and joy--

A Meaning of Christmas: The Nativity

2010-12-22T00:02:00.005-05:00

The Nativity is really a frightening story with a happy ending. It had to be full of tough emotion for its participants. And we usually skip those emotions and go straight to the happy ending. We forget the uncertainty in the happiness of the result.

Consider Joseph, with a pregnant wife on the back of his one donkey in the cold. They didn't have a lot of luggage--not much extra food, not enough money. Not a lot of blankets or special clothes or the tools of his carpenter trade. They're on the road. That displacement has been ordered by the Roman government, so that a census may be taken. It's a sign that things are not going to be the same--they are a conquered people and soon to be a taxed people. They have a local despot for a king, a distant administration who props that king up. Joseph is supposed to protect Mary in the large and small things--and what's large and what's small had to change perspective every other minute.

And for all Mary had an Annunciation, she had to be worried something would go wrong or she wouldn't measure up. She's on the back of a donkey. She has to go to the bathroom now, but they also have to keep going. She has no women to help her with the layette. No midwife she knows will be there to cry on during labor pains. No midwife, even a stranger, guaranteed at all. Her first child will be born among strangers and maybe even in the dirt. There's no guarantee in the Annunciation that she'll live through labor either. It only guarantees that she is chosen and she is blessed. That leaves a lot of room for fear of the unknown. Because being chosen is not usually an experience without suffering.

The inn they found was probably a tavern. It was a gathering place for all kinds of people--reliable and unreliable. More of the unknown. If it was crowded with others like Joseph, just trying to fulfill responsibility, we don't know it. We never hear about them. At best it was full of tired and cranky people, but possibly revelers and gossips and people who needed a little reform. The innkeeper and his staff were slammed with work. The permission to use the stable for a Birth might have been a kind impulse. But that innkeeper also didn't (as far as we know) ask anyone to make room for a pregnant woman and worried father. Maybe he did ask, and nobody had compassion. Maybe they had reasons why the innkeeper should ask someone else. Maybe the innkeeper didn't have time to ask, or maybe he didn't care enough to ask. Maybe the stable was cleaner anyway.

So Mary had a baby in a stable. It was not her husband's baby, but somehow that had been resolved--through love, or faith, or need on one side or both sides. Joseph would have stabled the donkey. He would have shoveled the floor of the stall and piled up hay while she bit her lip and waited or even possibly fussed. Possibly he snapped a little, because he felt inadequate to the task. They would have been scared to death--no matter how much meaning was packed into it for them--and possibly even more afraid, given the meaning.

She lived through labor. She had a baby on straw instead of the side of a road. It was better than their worst fears, and hard to reconcile with the prospect of a large gift to the world.

They would have changed the hay. They would have listened for threat from the tavern, from Roman centurions, from the weather, from animals bigger than a woman lying on straw. Still it was a miracle. It was good.

The shepherds knew to come, but no town or tavern resident on record came. The baby was viewed and watched and exclaimed over by men with low-paying menial jobs, uncertain hygiene, rough habits. But he was loved immediately.

It is a remarkable account, you know, just for its human effort. And this particular birth, in this particular set of conditions, later changed the world and the language of the spirit. For most of us who celebrate Christmas, it is the onset of our religious beliefs. It changed our understanding of the Divine, and where that Divine is present.

But even those with a different religion, or no religion, can ponder this and perhaps see meaning in it. They can see why decency matters, why worry and care are tied, why life is precious and poverty is hard. How much we need each other and how much we must do for ourselves, the very best we can.

Infinite possibility was born in soiled straw by one scared woman with one worried man in attendance, and a host of threats, large and small, all around. And that infinite possibility was, and is always, a miracle.

Every Day could be Veteran's Day

2010-12-21T00:40:00.000-05:00

One month after Veteran's Day, the Ann T. Hathaway blog is remembering veterans.

In September, when it was still very hot around here, my sister and I went to Arlington National Cemetery. You know there is a scandal running about mis-handled burial sites. That is a failure of trust and care, and it should be rectified.

But the interred don't know of it. All the world's untrustworthiness is over for them. We fix this so that we can know honor and respect has occurred. And I think we should make sure it is a good resting place as well as an honored one. That means they have to water and renew the grass. I know space has gotten limited, but I think they ought to add a few more trees. They should be hardwoods that stand for the backbone these men had; willows for their sorrow; and evergreens, because we want to symbolize that we flourish and renew from their sacrifice. But that's only my opinion.

The truth of sacrifice is very stark.

There is a beautiful arbor there for services. Those pictures are below the jump.

International Standards of Law and Order: Vancouver & the Olympics

2010-12-20T00:33:00.005-05:00

Cities, Crime, and The Olympics

This is the second part of Columbia University’s video linked here, starting about 28 minutes in until the end, on “economic violence”. The first presentation was by Sudhir Venkatesh, on gangs and inner city regimes that conflict with urban political systems. That was discussed in a previous post. Professor Cutler discusses, in high contrast to poor inner-city regimes, the moneyed regime of the International Olympic Committee. I wouldn’t call it violent. I do find it interesting.

She refers to the “collision in normative values.” She means we have daily expectations for city services and amenities (police and parks, for instance). Just as gang regimes pressure cities and reduce control, she says the International Olympics Committee dis-empowered the government of the City of Vancouver.

You should know that I checked with a correspondent in Vancouver. This correspondent thinks Ms. Cutler has an inaccurate analysis of events. And I found Ms. Cutler to be unreliable too--with a theory that makes some sense, and that I might even agree with in part--but spinning the results into something that approaches a violence toward reality. Still it's food for thought, even if it reads like Orwell's 1984.

My synopsis of Ms. Cutler's words are green.

Vancouver Prepares for the Olympics
Ms. Cutler reports that the City of Vancouver subordinated its own authority over its own jurisdiction in order to attract the Summer Olympics. By so doing, they reduced the rights of Vancouver's citizens--their human rights--but also their economic rights. In order to win the Olympic bid, Vancouver had to be an "international city". Its urban planning was then modified to suit people who do not vote there, live there, or go to school there. Those who have local businesses, or provide local security were not accorded the same protections.

The "international community" that expects and values "international cities" are generally parts of large corporations, cartels, and governments, and individuals with a significant disposable income. Every city wants their spending dollars, their investments, and their interest. (Ms. Cutler didn't mention this.) However, what does it mean for those in small business, the homeless, the lower middle class, or the privacy of individual citizens, each who are accustomed to a certain street standard?

Paraphrasing Cutler (and I was typing notes as fast as I could):

Changes in Security Regimes:
A.Vancouver had already begun increasing Panoptic Surveillance and control, but the Olympics bid created a major impetus. Surveillance ranged from elevators in the city to along the long highways to Olympic attractions. The surveillance included perimeter detection, license plates readers, airport style surveillance technology all over the featured parts of the city. Sometimes these surveillance systems along the highway traversed different jurisdictions, outside of Vancouver’s bailiwick.

This indicates something about the control of the state--though Vancouver was the one doing it. It means the nation of Canada may have
1. abdicated control (letting Vancouver hold the mandate instead) or
2. that the state of Canada authorized Vancouver’s extra-territorial control or
3. that both state and city suspended their control in order to let the Olympic Committee create standards, ordinances, and methods of security provision, for the benefit of visitors over residents.

B. The technology-driven security is an economic boon to international marketing, not local security. It is "the corporate face of a new war." But private (international, for-profit) security firms were given broad powers of search, seizure, and arrest. This sidelined both the Vancouver Police and the RCMP (national).

If local security was not sidelined, it still creates a culture of cooperation with a corporate/market entity. It gives some parity to corporate security that formerly was a government monopoly. Security arrangements also privileged international security organizations such as NORAD, which played a part in anti-terrorism measures.

Public/private security partnership may be permanent. Contracts were for installation of surveillance devices, but not their removal.

In other words, these systems were purchased not rented. In almost every alternative, the city continues to give away its power over its own jurisdiction.
1. Vancouver decides not to use the security system they paid for, and still must pay to maintain, thereby creating unsustainable development.
2. The RCMP uses it, giving local security duties/powers to the state of Canada that belong to the city of Vancouver.
3. Vancouver PD staff is diverted from street security to panoptic surveillance, swelling police budgets with new hires or reducing street presence. They also watch areas that are not their jurisdiction, thereby wasting some man-hours or exceeding their authority. (NOTE: she offered no reference for this).
4. Vancouver hires a private security company, thus diverting security to a private firm who has first access to the data.

I'm not sure which of these competing alternatives Ms. Cutler found more dangerous. Mostly she was ranting in the scholarly way, of course.

Zoning Restrictions
C. The city re-zoned itself into orderly zones and free speech zones. No dissing of the Olympics, no demonstrations, riots, posters, sit-ins, or protest parades allowed in the Olympic zones or near city attractions. These "orderly zones" included the public library and art museums. Universities were approached, certain known activists, and students, warning them not to kick up any fusses in areas adjacent to Olympic events. Cutler maintains this also crossed jurisdiction (e.g., University by-laws).

I can't get too worked up over this, given how awful protests could have been. In a way, the City of Vancouver is protecting its investment in Olympic attractions, its reputation, and local property. But it does bring up the specter of how much, how long, what precedent does it set? What is considered a "non-celebratory Olympic demonstration? Does it get into bad manners? Will it mandate manners next time?

Local Expectations vs. Local Capacities.
D. Courts and Citizens
1. The City of Vancouver empowered the police to take homeless populations to shelters or jail them. But there were not enough shelters for the homeless population, so many were inevitably jailed.

2. Vancouver also empowered "City Ambassadors" to "move undesirable people along", watch streets or parks, and report undesirable persons or activities.

Where I live, this activity is routine and not draconian. It does extend surveillance in particular tourist-attractive areas. It also keeps the streets clean, gives the tourists good directions to attractions, and so forth. It is also a benefit for those who live in those parts of my city--that is not shared equally by all residents of that city, but for which all taxpayers must pay.

During the events, a special system of courts was set up, separate from normal municipal courts, to deal with jailing "undesirables" 24/7. This may strain city budgets.

E. Likewise, local business was subject to specific opening and closing times. In the event of business conflict, local businesses in Olympic venues had to agree to take grievances to international commercial arbitration rather than the local court systems.

That’s pretty standard, I think, around the world. It keeps international corporations out of local court. It also creates a huge barrier to suing an international corporation for a small business.

Conclusion—Two Dilemmas
Perhaps the citizens of Vancouver saw this influx of security, such as a 24/7 court system, as desirable. Perhaps the drastic change in "normative values" by moving the homeless along meant that sitting in the park, going to the library or museum, or even taking a walk was better than before. We would then say that international business brought in greater urban capacity. And that’s what cities need.

But even finding it desirable might also show that cities have lost power. Maybe Vancouver could not enforce these desirable standards without international scrutiny (or the excuse of international scrutiny). Maybe citizen scrutiny was not enough. Or maybe citizens have already accepted a decline in normative values.

Either way, under Cutler's exposition, the city looks weak. And we need not single out Vancouver, either. All cities are trying to attract international business. They are all giving out tax breaks and making promises to get them to come to their cities.

Second, at what point do all of these temporary "protections of investment" manage the risk of terror, riot, local safety, and at what point do they impinge upon citizens? Maybe demonstrations aren't your concern. Maybe some other "normative right" is.

I wonder what you all think of this, and what examples you may have in your own city.

Stars: The Poetry Bus

2010-12-20T00:17:00.003-05:00

Well, The Bug has been doing this forever. And C.L.'s been doing it. And I thought, maybe every once in awhile, I will do it: it's the Poetry Bus, hosted this week by "The Weaver of Grass". The prompt this week is "stars".

Eclipse: December 21, 2010

1.
Above my city
On the night of the solstice
The moon eclipses.

On a flat rooftop
I’ll bring a full thermos
(Coffee regular)

And wrap up warmly
To see the moon’s shadow and
The stars showing cleanly.

In the dark desert
The big sky bulges with stars.
In town, hardly one

Competes with neon.
With luck, I’ll outlast the cold
With wool and coffee.

I'll watch a red moon
Pass into darkness and out,
The stars as witness.

2.
Long ago, my man
And I watched the moon eclipse
In small-town Texas.

He placed a penny
On a train track in the dark
To show off, playing.

The town was empty.
We were courting then. He took
The moon’s photo twice,

And the town’s photo
Once. Stars in skies. Stars in eyes.
The train rattled through.

The picture’s on my wall.
The flattened penny’s safely
Saved. The memory too.

A copper shadow.

Light and dark. It's different

Now. I remember

Those were your last words

In a dream after death. You

Were happy. And me

I forget sometimes

I promised to keep the light.

Stars as my witness

In wool and cold air

I will see and remember

We'll talk it over.

Tomorrow's Post

2010-12-19T09:50:00.000-05:00

Tomorrow, instead of presenting an economist I agree with, I am presenting one that makes me uneasy.

I subscribe in part to her theory--that states/governments are losing power compared to markets. I'm just not sure she picked the right example, or that her follow-through from theory to event is correct. So be warned--critical reading ahead.

Big day tomorrow on other fronts, too. But I can't write about them yet!
See you all in the threads.

from Keep Your Mind on Your Job . . .

2010-12-17T00:04:00.001-05:00

More from Keep Your Mind on Your Job. This is the stepdaughter, Jenny, thirteen years old. She's remembering when she was six, and her father deserted the family after he couldn't make a go of it out west. They ended up in Camp Verde, Arizona, instead of California.

Her uncle Elijah Harris is one of her captors--her birth mother's brother, out with bad companions. Jenny's relationship to her uncle is one of the things keeping them in good health--and maybe the only thing--except Anne Davison's wits.
--

We used to live in Camp Verde in our busted wagon. You could hear what anybody said on the dirt outside. I don’t think Uncle Eli would call it a street.

There were Indians down the hill and soldiers across the way. Cowpunchers and settlers would come through and sometimes dead people got carried in. Most nights the bar would tinkle with fancy music. Noah and I wanted to go. But Mr. Flynn told Noah we’d get the whip hand if we disobeyed our Ma.

One night, some fight crashed out of Mr. Flynn’s saloon. Ma must have been listening for it, because she was still dressed, almost to the hat. They yelled and cursed and grunted when they got hit. I covered my ears and cried; I couldn’t help it. Back then, with my father first gone, I was crying scared almost all the time.

Ma said it was the last straw. She opened the front of our wagon cover and stood behind the seat. She raised the shotgun and fired a double blast. We found that out later.
Noah said that he knew it at the time. But he didn’t know in advance.

“Gentlemen, I have young children.” Ma was so scared, her voice cracked. “I’m sorry to disturb you, but please don’t kill anybody where they can hear it.”

Noah doesn’t think they wanted to kill each other. But he only said that long afterward. At the time, he was scared just like me.

The next day, those men and some others started coming over for coffee. Every last one left a nickel a cup. Each one also advised her to shoot at one of them next time, not at the air. Because she was lucky no one shot back.

And that made no sense to me then, and it doesn’t now either.

But that’s how it started: Ma lost her temper. Then she was ashamed because she put herself forward. And then she went to work, fixing things.

She served bean soup and cornbread and strong coffee off of the back of our wagon. Those men would come by to eat a meal or take away a piece of cornbread. Some days after that, Mr. Hough came to taste the soup. He staked Ma so she could expand business into a tent. And Mr. Flynn had our wagon’s wheels repaired, so we could move behind the business.

Ma thanked him over and over. But I think he did it because men liked to fight in his saloon. And no one gets to fight much with Ma around.

Looking Up

2010-12-16T05:13:00.000-05:00

Christmas decorations and a crane. The crane was sandwiched between two heritage buildings.

The quality of light in the winter time seems so different to me. Slightly yellow, and flattering to many things.
Both taken December 4.

Oh, Zombie Virus!

2010-12-16T04:27:00.001-05:00

It gets us all!

Each in our own way. But in general, we are shambling around, trying to find our way out of the mess Zombie Boss left behind.

We have two new Board Members--which means we have two former Board Members too. At last sighting, one of the former Bored was at the Meeting last night, strangely quiet, lounging in an unusual position on the sofa in the Meeting Room. Maybe recovering from, or delaying the rest of, a real bender? He's been getting more erratic all the time. The other one was wearing Spandex on the elevator.

We had five people who had complaints or issues. Usually no one shows up for Board Meetings. I have no idea why anyone would ever skip one! But for the new Board, it was like baptism by fire.

Me, I have turned into a weapon on the side of organization but can barely talk. I have this internal thought process going for cleaning out Zombie Boss's former office and finding all the Pending. But if you asked me to explain it, I couldn't. It is all part of the Deep Focus. My subconscious is doing it, and it's driving everyone crazy. Too bad it didn't work on the Zombies.

There is a lot of Pending. There was also a lot of photocopies of the same thing, over and over. I shredded those (not the Pending but the Duplicates). But enough about me and papers. There are still too many left. I even had an e-mail from a desperate lawyer. I've never had a letter from a desperate lawyer before. I have almost gotten him out of Zombie Stasis. Couple more steps.

One of the new Board Members said being at last night's Board Meeting was like watching reality TV. Ha ha ha! We almost had a fistfight between a resident and the Board President over (kid you not) laundry lint. I love our Board President. He was getting far more blowback than laundry lint ought to cause. And I could at least speak up about that.

The meeting adjourned at 10:00 p.m. One of the new Board Members announced at 9:50 that he had ten more minutes for the Meeting. He did the right thing. We would have shambled around all night. I would not have been able to cut it off--but I did tell him, in advance, that somebody was going to have to do it. And I knew he would.

Unbelievably not done yet

2010-12-15T00:04:00.000-05:00

We had a Condo Board meeting last night and there's more stuff on my plate than there is plate . . . it's going to work out. But I can't think to post. It's not nerves at least.

Have a good day, everybody.

Shazzam!! Zombie Wrestling

2010-12-14T00:06:00.005-05:00

H W F

Welcome to the HWF!! Horror Wrestling Federation!! Beamed every weekday live from the Ark House Condominium Arena, right here in HotWinds, USA!! And you're sure to see talent like never before!!!

We've got quite a match for you folks out there.

In this corner, we have: Zombie Assistant!! She's a famous villain--known to implement the Positivity SuckerSmack, the Credit-Stealing HammerLock--
Able to depress pretensions with one well-timed comment about a co-worker's body, hair, or clothes--a BodySlam, in other words--
And inventor of the unbelievably effective Snit--Lock!!

And in the other corner, we have: Georgina the Strong. Too bad she doesn't know it yet.
But she's been through hell on earth many times, and doesn't remember this is nothing compared to that.
She grew up in the Chicago projects, had an abusive husband and a drug habit, which she kicked both. She went on to become a home health aide, a strong mother, and dispenser of joy, cookies, and hugs to others--and Zombie Assistant's sometimes assistant.

The betting odds are low. Georgina's going to be a long shot to win. It's that Snit Lock, that Body Slam, that Hammerlock that get her every time. She just isn't ranked very high in the Horror Federation--

Enjoy the show, right here at the Ark House Auditorium! And your referee tonight, at the Ark House Arena, is Ann T. Hathaway. Go place your bets. Remember, the odds are long against Georgina. And odds are what we call "prevailing wisdom."

For more Zombies that Wrestle, go here to the WWE Night of the Living Dead! These people may be pikers compared to Zombie Assistant. Still, you get the idea!.

In case this isn't quite coherent--Zombie Assistant is putting her mood on everyone else. And I am going to stomp it quick.

Fiction: Doubt to a Desert Man

2010-12-13T01:38:00.000-05:00

This is from a novel I wrote but haven't sent out yet, called Keep Your Mind on Your Job or alternately, The Territory Man. In it, James Davison and his stepson Noah Miller are trying to chase down the men who kidnapped James' wife Anne, his stepdaughter Jenny, and the toddler Sally Anne.

The reason I chose that title is because James is a Territory Man. He's in a big damn hurry and scared of course, but the way he works is also to maintain his own integrity in the desert. That way, he's able to win just by sticking it out longer, making fewer mistakes. But this is much more of a test.

Going out to the writers out there--(hello, The Bug and C.L.)--the desert man I know who's coming back from vacation (hello, Captain)--Bob and Momma Fargo, who are dealing with environment all the time--to Slamdunk and BobKat for the missing persons work--and to anyone who enjoys it. And I hope you do.

They've stopped for the night--this chapter is told from the stepson's point of view.
---

I hear him drink out of the jar. My stomach growls again, loud and long.
“Careful now. We’ll want that jar.”
I feel for the jar in the dark. The tomatoes taste just fine. I use my knife to get them out.

“Annie’s good cooking.”
I cough. It’s the last of Ma’s canning, then. I set them down.
“Finish ‘em,” he says. “That’s what we have.” Something hits my leg. “Plus some of that floodwater rabbit.”
It takes me a minute. But he’s waiting, and he’s right. I pick them back up. He starts talking, low as always.

“When a man comes back from a job like this, he generally says he had the most doubt right before the fast time. But that’s only the story he makes afterward, against people congratulating on him, or telling him how he should have done different.” Pa clears his throat. “But if he remembered true, he’d know he lived in doubt for the whole job. Do you live to be a hundred, Noah, doubt only grows in life. But you get used to it. You learn to work with it heavy on you. I’m more used to it than you are.”

He doesn’t know where they are. That’s what he’s saying. But I knew that.

“Noah,” he growls. “Pay attention.”
“I’m trying.”
“You’re struggling. Just quit.”
I draw in air. “Doubt grows, and you get used to it.”

“Uh-huh. You’ve already made a good start on growing it and getting used to it. You take care of what’s yours, responsible most of the time. But a responsible man is rarely certain what’s altogether best, or if he can do what’s required. He has to choose, and he might be wrong.”

“Yes, sir.” He’s telling me he decided wrong. We should have gone west—

“So. You’ve been right patient, like I said.” Pa’s boot scrapes against rock. “Seagraves will get the message out, that’ll stave off some kinds of trouble we might have afterwards. Or maybe make the difference if we can’t. But we’re getting close to rapidity.”

Close to rapidity.
The jar starts sliding out of my hands. I grab it. “That scout told you something.”

“He had knowledge of this range. I found a stick with blue thread tied on it, two blue threads, not too far from where we are. It might be Annie’s sign for the second camp.”
“Lord.” I take a huge breath. “That’s good. That’s the best yet.”

“So now tell me how much doubt you lost,” Pa says. “Maybe you think I didn’t miscalculate now, but we’re still behind. Next all your what-ifs will come to roost. When we find out which one it is for sure, you’ll start on the if-onlies. Then you’ll sorry me, or expect I’ll sorry you. And maybe I will at that.” He waits. “Nope, that doubt didn’t go down any.”

Lord. He pegged me exactly.

“We’ll find them,” Pa says, after a long quiet. “The chance for disappointment is the same as it was before, Noah. Maybe you’ll never see them alive again. Maybe they’ll be bandbox fresh. But doubt doesn’t leave you, either way. You just handle it, same as you have been. You’ve kept your mind on getting through. So remember you can, and that you have.”

Sometimes I wonder why he doesn’t say these things earlier. But there’s no point in asking that. Pa’s more or less always on desert time.

There are tomatoes left. I eat them, then set the jar to the side. “What’s another way to grow doubt? Other than being responsible.”
“If you were in that band of snakes, you’d have doubts I reckon.”
We’re coming after them. They should have doubts.

“When men have doubts, they fight themselves and each other. We have. They take measures against threat. We’ve done that too.” I hear him pop his knee. “Question is, what fights they had and what measures they took. That refines what you do in fast time.”

Zapped but Zippy

2010-12-12T01:27:00.000-05:00

When people are angry with me, I have this desire to assure them that I am not having fun either. When they are mad, this is at least partially true and usually Mostly True. But it can also lead to false martyrdom. I learned false martyrdom somewhere, (but I'm not pointing fingers, mind you) and I've been trying to unlearn it since about 1980. Before that, not so much, but it was a drag to us all. LOL.

So, I went to a party tonight. It was so much fun! I wore a suit my sister gave me years ago. It has a velvet collar and cuffs, all black. She'd bought it for herself, some $200 suit for $15.50, and never worn it. I pulled the tags off. I put on a scarf with border collies on it (not that you could tell, the way it was all scrunched up), a top hat, and my clodhopper oxfords. I looked good, especially considering I am not a spring chicken. I am an early-fall chicken.

And when I am a winter chicken, I expect I'll still wear clunky shoes (but not beige ones) and sometimes that hat.

Anyway, a person who has been trying to be a friend to me for over a year had her birthday party. We ate Italian food and I met a couple who helps put on a jazz fest every year in my city. That just can't be bad. I just can't be unhappy about this. She's a very nice lady with very nice friends.

Then I came home and worked on condo stuff. But you know, I feel like that may be coming along. Not that I'm near done, b/c I'm not. It is piling up like an avalanche ready to drop.

I'm still catching up with everybody. I still have tons of letters to write. I'm still on my way back. Talk to you soon.

A Little Trivia about Kevlar

2010-12-12T00:06:00.003-05:00

The inventor of Kevlar was the chemist Stephanie Kwolek, working for duPont Chemical in 1966.

Kevlar is five times stronger than the same weight of steel. It is a polymer--an important class of compounds starting with the polyester in your socks and ending with the materials that repair arteries.

Kevlar does not rust or corrode. It is used as bullet-resistant shielding, from vests to windows. There might also be Kevlar in your brake cables, your skis, and in the materials for your building.

Ms. Kwolek invented many other polymers we use today. She was born in 1923, and worked for 40 years at DuPont. Twenty-eight patents are held by her in that 40 years. She was inducted into the Inventor's Hall of Fame in 1995 (heck, what took them so long?) I learned about her right after I learned about pop-up books, right there at the Smithsonian.

She was originally planning to be a doctor. She's saved a lot of lives out there without medical school. Nowadays she's semi-retired, serving on a lot of Science Foundation boards.

Some people just never give up.

Wikipedia has an article about her here.

Plenty Work Ahead.

2010-12-11T07:13:00.000-05:00

The Axe

2010-12-11T07:06:00.001-05:00

In this post, I am the lucky one. Even maybe the villain.

We fired someone. I am not the only one who thought it necessary, but I have thought it necessary for the longest time. I am the one who made the machinery work toward that end.

This year, Zombie Boss was more and more absent, less and less responsive to owners and contractors and staff and the Board. ZB would call meetings and fail to show up for them, make deals or promises and not finish them out, pass the blame or the buck or the duty. He relinquished oversight, and staff ran amok with it.

We had a lawsuit that cost us over $100K when one of the owners couldn't get an answer about a grievance. The Board handled it. We nearly didn't pay utility bills in spring and we have a cash crunch right before Christmas, which means that payroll and utilities are going to be a bit of a stretch. In winter, no heat? No paychecks? No, it's not quite that bad. We can make it. But I don't think we should wait until we can't.

In early November, we sought a legal opinion how to get out of the contract. Because the Board That Was stupidly did not get their manager contract drawn up by a legal representative, and we were stuck. Somebody cobbled it together from parts of an old contract, a raft of high-minded aspirations, and by the seat of their pants. Note: Do not do this, ever. It did not save us any money on legal fees.

The legal opinion was that we had to write an official memorandum detailing the reasons we could "terminate with cause". I wrote it; it took me a solid week. I tied our grievances to specific documents and went through them point by point. It was ten pages long, and could have easily been twenty. The back-up material was twenty pages long and could have been a hundred without much additional effort. The lawyer looked it over and said it was great. So we could do it.

Special Session of the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen
No sooner had the Board voted on it and learned the legal (and most protective to Owner privacy) procedure to accomplishing it, we lost another employee because of criminal acts. I mean literally--fifteen minutes after our meeting adjourned. The entire Condo was rocked, and the Board put off the action until we could figure out what to do with new actions in front of us. We got a legal opinion on that too--I said you can't wait until it's convenient for us (e.g., I'll fire her after my vacation), you have to do it at the point of grievance.

I was ready to go. But legal said no, we were in our rights to wait.

A Final Chance
But Zombie Boss hasn't handled this crisis either. Ann T. has been doing it. Writing the incident reports, collecting them. Checking the bad guy's personnel file, cutting off his access to ordering materials and billing us, setting up procedures, damage control. I don't mean I've been alone--the rest of the Board has also been doing stuff--writing the announcements, checking the building systems, interfacing on anything I don't know. But they have day jobs. It's been scary and hard. And even in this Zombie Boss hasn't pulled things together.

So, as one Board member said, who was unhappy, we let him go "right before Christmas". We've been telling him in increasing conversations that his performance is not good and that repercussions were imminent. I gave him a list of expectations this spring; I wrote him up this summer. He's been having correction conversations multiple times a week for years now. And the entire chain of command is twisted and broken. Everyone on the Board has been working hours and hours for months and months, in areas depending on their expertise. For free. Taking off work to visit lawyers or meet with contractors. Stuff like that. And that twists chain of command too.

He had a final chance to get it right, the reprieve of over a month. He didn't meet the challenge. In the last month, working with him multiple times a week, I could see that everything he did was a liability to us all.

He's gone. We were nice about it. He was. We all shook hands. He drove away.
Still not a good outcome. The axe is always a loss to all parties. And the timing just sucks.

Zombie Boss has a million things to figure out now. We do too. This stuff goes on long after the axe has swung. I wish him luck. I'd do it all again if I had to. We were in big trouble. We still are.

Street Art: Happy Birds!

2010-12-10T00:57:00.001-05:00

Something for you kids at heart, for those missing warm days and sunny walks, for those nursing colds and blahs and driving through snow:

This fence hides some construction--this time of a play area for kids in a skyscraper. And talk about advance billing. Somebody knew how to spread their wings over art, graffiti, and kids all at once. Love it. Something happy and sloppy and detailed at the same time.

I keep wondering if this bird has a halo.

Two more detail shots after the jump.

Love it. Have a great day, everybody!

In Which Ms. Frivolous Tosses Dear John, the Baker

2010-12-09T00:06:00.017-05:00

Just now I got off the elevator with a six-foot, three-hundred pound man who lives on my floor of my building. He has a crew-cut, looks like a retired football player and he works out at Gold's. He also bakes a lot of cookies.

A long time ago we had two dates, within the space of a week. After the first one, I was talking on the phone in front of my window and he was watching me from the window in the hall, where the building makes a 90 degree angle. It didn't last very long, but I noted it. Still I didn't pay enough attention. After the second date (I should tell you these were coffee dates or walk dates), I hugged him good-bye and said I hoped he'd call me again.

That Big Chocolate Chip on His Shoulder
I got a blistering e-mail about how men have to do all the work to get dates. That he had already bought two cups of coffee and it was my turn to ask to go for a walk. That he didn't appreciate the tack I had taken, my tone of voice, and so forth.

I added this up with the themes of his conversation. At the time, he was looking for a job. He told me that he had cursed out the hiring supervisor at a company he hoped to work at, because she didn't process his application fast enough. He also told me about his divorced wife not allowing him to be alone with his daughter because he would spank her and she was fourteen, which is not too old to be spanked, according to him. (Like all ex-wives), she was a bitch. And then on the way home from this second date, he told me about going into a gay bar (which he wasn't, or some permutation thereof, I hadn't figured that one out yet) and being in the men's restroom and almost choking a guy to death for hitting on him.

Maybe it was supposed to illustrate his straightness. But that was enough for me. I figure if you're a guy in a declasse gay bar, you should expect to get hit on in the bathroom. I mean, you're there. And I've been in that bar. It is a hit-on-ya bar.

Somewhere in there he left me a phone message that he then asked me not to listen to, because he was so angry. He was very charming about it, but this is Ann T. you're talking to. I listened to it.

In Which John, the Baker becomes Dear John, the Baker
So I sent him a dear-John e-mail. It was about how my life was busier than I thought it was, and that I wouldn't have time for a new relationship. I got a vituperous letter back about being a bitch, dishonest, and insinuating in the bargain--not to mention those cups of coffee that I had sponged off him. I spent a serious hour thinking about giving him a five-dollar bill.

About a week after that, I was leaving the building and he was coming in. He turned around and started yelling at me. He followed me down half a block, yelling that I was a bitch and so forth. I don't run from stuff like this: absolutely fatal to run. I turned around and told him he was done following me. And he turned away.

At the local store, I was friends with a police officer who moonlighted in security. I told him what had happened. I asked him what I should do. "Call the cops," he said.

Well, it wasn't going to be Officer Securidad that got called, you know. So I wasn't going to take that advice.

When I came back to the building, my dear John, the Baker was waiting at the back door with a toothpick in his mouth, and he was not done. He had more to say, and I was going to listen. I faced him off again and went inside. I should tell you it was pitch dark out there, and he was still fit to be tied.

I shook for two and a half hours in my apartment. And finally the word harassment came to me. So I did call the police and said it was not an emergency. Well, they sent two cars. We have really responsive police in my neighborhood. It was one a.m. You could say I over-reacted. On the other hand, I don't like being blocked access to my building in the dark.

I met them outside my building. I mean, they were fast.
"Look, thanks for coming, I'm afraid it's really stupid," I said. "But this is what happened, and this is the kind of mail he's sending."
One of them read it.
"Aw, he just doesn't want to break up with you."

Well, hell. I do not consider myself to be a frivolous caller of the police, but there it was.

"Well, if you don't think it's worth pursuing, then I think that's okay. Generally I handle things. I think it's dumb that I called you."
"Nah, we'll go up and talk to him."

So they did. I have been getting dirty looks from this man for years. He still lives down the hall. I used to listen behind the door before I went outside, to be sure I didn't run into him.

Out of the Deep Freeze
But about two years after the incidents described above, we started saying hello again. Recently he brought me cookies. I find that to be odd, but also maybe it was just a bad time. Still I had no plans to date this guy.

So he wanted to know tonight why I would call the cops on him. He prefers direct communication. But also he wanted to apologize. I accepted his apology and said that I was also sorry it happened. Then he wanted to know why. Because he just wants to know why I did it.

I reviewed. He said he guessed he could understand it, that he's a big guy and all that. But still. And this went on for awhile. Then finally I said this:

"You escalated very quickly," I told him. "You wanted me to talk a certain way, and to act a certain way, and you said whatever you wanted when I didn't talk or act as you wanted. Many of your stories were about hurting people. And then you followed me down the street yelling at me."

"It was only half a block."
"It's a long block. It's even longer when someone's screaming at you that you're a bitch as you walk down it."

I was honest. I went through it with him, I don't know how many times. By the end he was arguing with me. He thinks I didn't like him because he was unemployed. And that's when I got mad.

Somehow again, by the end of the apology, I am at fault for bringing in a third party. He never wanted to date; he never waited for me. Well, he doesn't like it when I'm straight with him, and he doesn't like it when I give him a vague brush-off. All I can do is what I can do.

"I got you back, you know," he just told me. "I told them you were off your meds and crazy."
"I don't take meds." (You'll notice I didn't say I wasn't crazy though.)

"I know, I just had to get you back. I'm on a report somewhere because of you."

He is just one step on my road to agoraphobic tendencies. Not the biggest one. Not the most important one. Not by a hell of a sight.
But damn it.

Muster Posts.

2010-12-08T10:05:00.002-05:00

Every month, the Ann T. Hathaway blog remembers officers who have died in the line of duty. However, Ann T. did not keep up with her stated mission in September, October, and November.

What I'm going to do, I will post September, October, and November this week and next. Each one will have pride of place for a day, as I have always done. Then I will change their date to reflect when these men and women should have been remembered by putting the post in its proper archive.

Update: September Muster is now posted under October 1, 2010.
October Muster is now posted under November 1--originally on December 13, 2010.
November Muster was posted December 17, 2010.

The reason this explanation is a separate post:
I am not putting my excuses next to the names of the men and women who served our communities without boundary. This particular post will also change dates for awhile until Ann T. gets her house in order.

I saw this sign in the city where I live. I think there should be one for every fallen law enforcement officer, all over my city.

Reserve Sergeant Joseph Pozell was struck by a vehicle and killed on May 17, 2005. He was 59 years old.
I learned this by searching the Officer Down Memorial Page.

originally posted Dec. 8

Blue Streak

2010-12-08T00:57:00.000-05:00

Cities, Crime, Detente: Sudhir Venkatesh

2010-12-07T01:36:00.000-05:00

More on Cities, Crime, and Economics:

Colombia University's School of Social Studies gave a Conference on "Cities and New Wars" which is definitely a timely topic Sudhir Venkatesh spoke, (and so did Claire Cutler of Victoria, Canada). With only two panelists, and two divergent sets of concerns, I don't think it was the best panel ever. However, each speaker was interesting in their own way. And I'm actually going to take them both, one post at a time.

But never mind Cutler now. Here is the link to the video, 55 minutes long. Professor Venkatesh spoke starting at minute two, and ended at minute 30 or so. That's plenty to start with.

The examples are set in Chicago. Nobody needs to think this is limited to Chicago, by any means.

Policing, or Not, in the Urban Ghetto
Venkatesh's topic was ostensibly "Policing in the U.S. Ghetto." However, it took a sharp turn into urban economic violence from the start. His contention was that the ghetto has a "city government within a city government." It is unofficial, shady, what we call extortion, gang wars, and the crack economy. The police are not the main security providers in these areas.

He describes drive-by shootings--that they have a definite sound sequence, a noise associated with "incoming". One of the things I noted was that children were growing up in the Robert Taylor homes with the same expectations of violence that we consider a feature of Beirut or Baghdad. That a mother's care includes an admonition to "get your ass down now."

He then describes the park/turf that was the proximal cause of this violence: a three-way gang war for the economic benefits of the park. This included sales territory for drug or weapons sales, but also "taxation authority" for the other activities around the park: food vendors, clothing vendors, prostitutes, car repair.
Before they were torn down, the Robert Taylor Project was truly ruled by an alternate authority than the City of Chicago. It's interesting to note that under-the-table businesses do have a huge tax bill, in the government that makes the place work (dysfunctionally or functionally, take your pick) and that with this alternate government, they also try to evade or avoid taxation through under-reporting of receipts.

The gangs have pride of place. Like a nation, they control specific territory. When two gangs contest turf, the sets of diplomats include community leaders such as pastors and activists. A summit meeting is called, several diplomatic activities through different intermediaries take place. The gangs eventually agreed to a division of the park for commerce and taxation. They also agreed to avoid certain hours for their activities, such as when children were out of school.

Mr. Venkatesh does note that the police came but did not get out of the car on several occasions when drive-bys or other violent/war-like events occurred. I don't think he was making a judgement, just underlining his theory that the City does not have primary authority in this area, even in security.

More Recent Data
The Robert Taylor Homes are long gone. This second video is from last year. Hat/Tip Second City Cop's "A Riot? Not Quite" post of August 16, 2009. And this one is perhaps more to the point.

1. You can see that the police car is the first presence, and that the police disperse the crowd--by getting out of their cars at great risk--only when the second police car shows up.
2. You can also see that the fighters don't disperse right away. They're defiant.
3. You can also see that if they were totally defiant, things could have taken a totally different turn. But two police officers in two cars cannot change a neighborhood in the middle of the night. They can only impose order for that time, that place, that minute.

It remains a question about how controlled the "rioters" were. I think not so very. .

What a riot! from Joe Gray on Vimeo.

But let's look at the other city, state, and national authorities. Their first job is to provide security, and they have, in some fashion. Governments also have tax authority--this goes hand in hand with having the "standing armies" that maintain the state. Yet this is equally compromised. No IRS or other local authority shows up to collect taxes--they send a letter once a year. The evasion or avoidance of taxes to the local authority--the gang--is even more prevalent for the government--because the first tax becomes "business overhead".

The place where (what we call) the legitimate state makes the most impact is in a kind of internal "foreign aid". This aid is a tied aid--to certain behaviors (live here, for instance). Like much foreign diplomacy, it does not succeed in changing many internal cultural values. It may not even seek to. Mostly it stops war from breaking out along the border. In the end, looking at the shadow economy, you almost begin to wonder: just who runs this territory? At what point does legitimate rule go to who claims it?

The U.S. claimed a lot of land by sending people to sit on it that were sympathetic to their government, their culture, and their folkways. Other parcels they bought: from Mexico (the Gadsden Purchase), from France (the Louisiana Purchase). Other parts were wrested away (e.g. the Republic of Texas fighting against the government of Mexico). At the time we brought all this territory under one aegis, we also allowed people to barter, make local arrangements, and didn't tax so much. Many customary activities then are now considered shadow economy by our own nation, state, and city. And yet we won't pay for increased security without increased taxation.

If we want the inner city claimed by the government we know, then the city has to have a presence in that area that can contend with the de facto government that really seems to run it. That means increased security, and establishment of taxation authority, and cultural interchange, and--gaining the consent of the governed.

Venkatesh doesn't necessarily lead where I did, but he has plenty to say. It's well worth picking up a book or two of his and giving them a good read. The one I am still reading (fascinating!) is:

Off the Books: The Underground Economy of the Urban Poor by Sudhir Venkatesh. It's not at every bookstore, but still readily available.

The Bus Bench

2010-12-06T01:34:00.001-05:00

Coming home from very lonely places, all of us go a little mad: whether from great personal success, or just an all-night drive, we are the sole survivors of a world no one else has ever seen.

--John le Carre, "The Chancellor Who Agreed To Play Spy",

The New York Times, May 8, 1974

Photo September 1.

I would write more, but everything is so serious right now. I have to finish this road. I think two weeks. That doesn't mean I won't blog for two weeks, but maybe not about the real stuff. I mean, the condo board.

I am catching up on your blogs and trying to comment here and there. You'll see me.

Ann T.

Fast and Efficient: Opera

2010-12-06T00:55:00.001-05:00

Friday I switched my condo board mailbox from clunky-cluttered-slow Internet Explorer to Opera. I like it. It was an easy download and is lightning quick. I could add my old mailbox to it, no trouble, no change of address. I've been searching and checking mail on it since then with no troubles.

I am still using Google Chrome for blogging. I like it too, and I'm not switching. I think it has more of the fun stuff that I'm used to, a little easier to customize. But for business, I think the Opera set-up is really good.

Probably all of you are wondering why the heck it took me so long to leave Explorer, and have had a good platform quicker. Well . . . . I'm chicken.

Depredations

2010-12-03T23:23:00.001-05:00

I wonder if people who watch security cameras ever try to quantify the expressions that they see on the faces of those committing criminal activity--I mean, past "Look at this jackass."

This past month I saw one film up close and personal. It was of someone I knew and had tried to establish rapport and friendly relations with. He was filmed going through someone else's possessions, taking the contents, and putting the box back. His face was hard, sharp, triumphant--cruel, in other words. Past predatory.

I have met other predators: almost been carjacked, had my purse snatched, nearly been mugged, blah blah blah. All these faces were different than the face I saw on film.

So I wonder if there is a register of expressions out there, a quantitative or qualitative scale. But I already have an opinion.

I have seen that cruel face before, but not in connection with a theft. For some reason, this was an emotional crime. If you saw the face but not the hands, you would say it was a beating, an abuse, a kill.

This man thought he was winning. And every viewer was outraged. Everyone who saw or heard about it said he was an idiot. They said he'd "thrown it all away for nothing." I know from past experience, how the details spun out, that he was unimaginative. His method was just so ordinary. What nobody said--absolutely no one--was that he was morally and ethically wrong.

And that still bothers me.

The Dish and Spoon Just Carrying On Like Trash

2010-12-03T07:31:00.002-05:00

This is just a silly thing, but I have pictures. My sister is a scrap-book expert. Every year I get a custom book of photos from her, all done up in grey paper with burgundy trim, or cream paper with sage insets, with pictures from the year. She also makes dynamite cards. It's amazing.

So when she came to town, I was anxious that we check museum exhibits and tourist attractions she might like. Thanks to the Smithsonian, I had a plan!

We went to look at a display of ancient-to-modern pop-up books. Did you know that learned astronomers used pop-up books????? They could study orbits just by sliding a tab. Illustrations by Renaissance Artists of note. I didn't take a picture of it--it was too old and valuable for the Smiths to let us. But it's true: the first pop-up book readers were studying Copernicus, Kepler, and Galileo. They had to read Latin.

After awhile, the lofty standard of the pop-up book dwindled. Now anyone can own one on astronomy. I just don't know what the world is coming to. All that scientific advance, and here's what we're teaching:

And if that's not bad enough, here's a bunch of bunnies. I think it's a plot to keep children from being afraid of Animal Farm. The next thing you know, your children will grow fur and live in communes. And take a look at that cow on the right. He's clearly plotting something. And from above, you can already see he's won the Space Race. Keep an eye out, you all. It's a sign.

Here are two pages from one of my favorites. This is for you car enthusiasts out there: the Gas Station!

Well, we loved this exhibit. It takes a long time and much effort to make a pop-up book. I wish I had one for calculus back in the day. On the other hand, that probably wouldn't even have reconciled me to calculus.

Have a great weekend, everybody!

Grey and Gold

2010-12-02T02:04:00.000-05:00

taken November 2.

Hello.

2010-12-01T23:58:00.001-05:00

I hardly know how to come back. I guess first I will say I am okay.

I fell down a rabbit hole. I think it is the fault of that damn closet--so close to perfect, with other things not so much, and I got tired. The only thing that got me out was that my sister was coming for a week's vacation, and I knew I had to be presentable. So of course the week before she came I could hardly talk. And not blog either.

You could say her coming also tripped me down that damned hole, even though I wanted to see her very much.

I knew I was presentable, but I didn't believe I was (if you get that, I think you will). And the house needs work. Although really it's an attitude adjustment. You know.

So instead of adjusting the house or my attitude, I wrote a Western novel, and I thought about Momma Fargo and Bob G. the whole time I was writing it. I finished it the weeks after my sister left. 65,000 words--set in Arizona Territory--I think it's good.

Still haven't sent it out.

I wanted to send it to you guys, and see if it was any good. I thought about it for weeks. I thought about peedee all through October because I was going to visit her in Sunny Florida, but I couldn't even answer the phone. Every time I fixed lunch I thought it would be a better meal if I was hanging out with Mrs. Fuzz and every time I saw a cute dress I wanted The Bug and Gia to see it too. But I had to get through a week of close familial scrutiny first.

It was good my sister came. She thought I looked wow, and everybody who saw us thought I was the younger one (not true, and I don't know why she asks people this, because somebody always has to suffer over the answer). But I love her dearly, my very good sister, who lived through thick and thin with me, back in the day when we had no power. There aren't any words for how I feel about her.

We talked a lot. A lot, a lot, a lot. And she was fairly cheerful to rest on the bed instead of the sofa I am supposed to have but don't (the cats scratched it to hell, you understand). And I even managed to fix a huge dinner for her and my b-i-l. We ate it on the roof deck, and it was pretty grand. Big salad, chicken, you know--nothing extraordinary. Just the first dinner I've fixed for anyone in seven years or maybe more. We went to all the Memorials, the museum, we walked and I scandalized her by treating taxicabs as reliable transportation (although we mostly took public transit). We wore ourselves out by day, and I was insomniac by night, but it was good she came and we had fun.

I knew my pre-arranged National Firefighter's Week stuff came out, and I thought about Joe Schmoe. I thought about Sandra and Raindog and Christopher, I thought about Slam, and everyone really. I was angry at myself on September 30 and October 31, not keeping up with the memorial posts I do. I will do those later, and put them into the blog. Because even though I didn't write, I didn't forget.

So. I was coming back, a lot sooner than this. And you know, it is hard to write this post, because I know I haven't been a good friend. I want to say I'm sorry. I haven't even read your letters yet; haven't read the comments; don't know how much I've failed everyone. I've been afraid to do it. This post is what you call the first step.

So, I was coming back, a lot sooner than this. But since November started, there has been Zombie War for sure, and they opened a second front of attack. Suffice it to say there is a warrant out for one of our Zombies, and he is still at large. (No, he didn't kill anyone--later. Later.)

I'm going to read your letters--then I'll be back. I missed you all terribly. I'll be writing people back over the next few days, and catching up on your blogs. It's going to take me awhile.

I have missed you all so much. I'll be writing soon.

November Muster

2010-12-01T00:09:00.000-05:00

Each month, the Ann T. Hathaway blog remembers officers who have died in the line of duty. Each one leaves behind family, friends, colleagues. They leave behind a world of actions that have enriched our community.
During this holiday season, we could also reflect upon the sacrifices made, and still felt, by the people that knew these officers well.

--Ryan Bonaminio--David Grove--Kevin Kell Roberts--

--Gary Chapin--Jonathan McDonald--Packy Pascewicz--Dwayne Parks--

--Patrick Sirois--Sam Brownlee--Michael Flisk--

I learned about these officers on the Officer Down Memorial Page.

October Muster

2010-11-01T00:42:00.000-04:00

Every month, the Ann T. Hathaway blog offers a post for the memory of law enforcement officers killed in the line of duty. The officers who died in October are remembered here. Please take a moment to reflect on the sacrifices made, and the lives forever changed, by the life and death of each of these fine people.

--Merrill Bruquier--Karl McDonough--Shaun Lin--

--Joe Schuengel--Sean Drenth--Tommy Portz--Timothy Prunty--

--Odell McDuffie Jr.--John Abraham--George Green--

--Jose Cordova-Montanez--Christopher Wilson--

--Dean Miera--Sergio Antillon--Paul Dittamo--

You can learn more about these officers on the Officer Down Memorial Page.

The Hydrant Inspector

2010-10-09T00:35:00.007-04:00

The following photos are from Ann T. Hathaway Archive's extensive collection of Fire Hydrant Studies. A limited edition print can be yours for the modest sum of one thousand dollars. Kick in an extra hundred and it will arrive at your home, matted and framed in either Rustic, Silver, or Golden splendor (specify, please).

These photos are accompanied by trivia about fire hydrants. So that you know more than not to park next to one. For instance, some of them are made on very high stacks for rising above snowdrifts. I forget where I read this--a Japanese site. Others take advantage of lake water instead of municipal pipes.

In the United States, the American Water Works Association (AWWA) and the National Fire Protection Association (NFPA) both promulgate standards on fire hydrants and inspection regimens. Since 1881, the AWWA has concerned itself with all kinds of water management and water quality, including safe drinking water and safe sewer disposal. The NFPA promulgates safety standards for buildings, especially electrical codes and sprinkler codes for buildings, the use of smoke alarms, and other fire-fighting standards.

This is where engineers, scientists, fire-fighters and city managers get together to transform science and safety into law. In short, they are also lobbyists on the national, state, and local level. Their lobbying efforts are based on factual information and definite preferences for safety. All official standards are available to the public for a relatively modest price. Organizations like these stretch from government to private industry. They are part of the good foundation for an advanced economy.

There are also world-wide standard promulgated for fire hydrants, published by the International Standards Organization (ISO), based in Europe. Another world-wide standard comes from the American Society of Tool and Manufacturing Engineers (ASTM), "an open forum for the development of high-quality, market-relevant international standards used around the globe."

The reason the ASTM standard is international is because the U.S. still has much clout world-wide, based upon our manufacturing and research reputation. Many businesses around the world use ASTM or ISO standards in airline repair, tool design, shipping standards, and, apparently, fire protection. International corporations implement ISO pretty stringently--it cuts their costs because it's standard and helps them with insurance costs. ISO and/or ASTM is a voluntary program, frequently enforced by the insurance industry or by treaty around the world. It is one reason why it is safe to travel internationally, or that a container coming from Brazil has similar specs as one coming from India. That a fire-fighting crew in Manila, for an international factory, has similar tools and specs to work with, even if they were born in France.

I don't say it always works out in practice, however. Because:

Smaller corporations find it very hard/expensive to get into compliance with international standards. Cities also are generally not in full ISO compliance. It's part of the 'aging infrastructure' challenge. On the good side, the standards are there to work towards. It's harder to make a 'mistaken' investment if the standard is there.

Most city laws don't specify a standard. They say something like: "The department shall adopt rules and regulations that it determines are reasonably consistent with generally recognized fire protection standards, governing conditions relating to the prevention of fire or for the protection of life and property against fire" and leave the specs to the experts. It also frees the pols up to meddle in other affairs. But no, they wouldn't do that.

For historical preservation districts, there are 'retro-looking' but modern-standard hydrants, as shown HERE. There are also communities that paint their hydrants to look like little people, or a face, or whatever seems to strike their fancy. This latter whimsy might be cute, but it's not exactly helpful for a fire.

Historical preservation or whimsy aside, hydrant colors should actually Mean things. From Wikipedia:

In the United States, the AWWA and NFPA recommend hydrants be colored chrome yellow for rapid identification apart from the bonnet and nozzle caps which should be coded according to their available flow. Class AA hydrants (>1500gpm) should have their nozzle caps and bonnet colored light blue, Class A hydrants (1000-1499gpm), green, Class B hydrants (500-999gpm), orange, and Class C hydrants (0-499gpm), red. This aids arriving firefighters in determining how much water is available and whether to call for additional resources, or locate another hydrant. Other codings can be and frequently are used, some of greater complexity, incorporating pressure information, others more simplistic.

Ann T. Hathaway, Volunteer Hydrant Inspector, has determined that HotWinds is not in full compliance. But she called in an expert to be sure, all the way from New York City. His resume is impressive:

This is a fine art photograph by Bryan Hochman. You will have to work out your price and framing details for this photo with him.

Red Lights, Blue Streaks

2010-10-08T00:22:00.016-04:00

This picture looks like a Boring Post Card, possibly showing you the Excellent Modern Facilities of some Health Complex you Wouldn't Be Found Dead in.

No, it's just an office building, a mere two seconds after averted disaster!

Sirens screamed! The ambulance buzzed and honked! Tires squealed! and a distinct "Holy Shit" came out of the mouth of the pedestrian to my right.

A cab (not pictured) decided to cross an intersection in front of an oncoming ambulance. Only the fine reflexes of the ambulance driver and the routine care of emergency vehicle brakes prohibited
a. the second emergency and
b. that chance for a photo opportunity that would have driven my point home. Gotten me a job at CNN, too, no doubt, covering gang wars and the home improvement projects of serial killers.

I hear that at some agencies, conversation inside the vehicles are recorded. The imaginary agency I work for would have fired me already for the blue streak coming out of my mouth. There is a word beginning with 'f' that has lost, as far as I'm concerned, all sexual connotation whatever. It just means, idiot. The cab driver was an idioting idiot.

Drivers-pedestrians-bicyclists: Please pay attention to those emergency vehicles! In your own quiet way, you help save somebody's life.

And a hat tip to all those safe drivers in big red trucks and box-like ambulances!
Bonus points for remembering that son of a goat-haired step-child recording in the cab of your vehicle.
And may these pecan-brained mastodons shove it up their violin! Idioting idioters, every one!

Moths to the Flame: The Rubbernecker Follies

2010-10-07T00:31:00.002-04:00

If you have been following my Fire Week Special, by now you have figured out that I am a rubbernecker.

I am not the kind of rubbernecker that likes to cause trouble though.

I bet you've heard that before.

Three vehicles from the local fire station are in front of Big Green Bar. I am just taking a walk, not expecting to turn a corner and run into such excitement.

I take a picture of the lights on the fire truck, even though it's pitch dark. Like a bug to a zapper, I drift closer. But I stand, out of the way. Two women are watching next to me, from across the tiny cross street. One of the paramedics is setting up a stretcher covered with clean white cotton cloth. He's not rushing, so, good. Not anything horrible.

"What happened?" I ask. The young women shrug.
"Somebody called an ambulance."
"Right," I nod. "And they went into Big Green Bar."
"Yup."
They stare at the empty stretcher, eating yogurt with Gummy Bears in it. I am reminded of a newspaper photo I once saw of a grisly crime scene where spectators had Slurpees. So I cross the street to get farther away, and go to the grocery store. How about that? Told you: I'm the kind of rubbernecker you want.

But the excitement's still there when I get out! And here's your proof! Damn I love the lights!

Thankfully, the paramedics and firefighters have it under control. But it's an arena, for sure . . . packed with an audience of people who just wanted to go back in and drink. Maybe they got to scream or found a conversational gambit in it. It is a pick-up bar, after all.

I am glad you professionals knew what to do. I went home, secure in the knowledge it was my best contribution.

I'm sure you wondered why I took photos of your vehicles in the pitch black night. Just another mental case out on the street with enough money for a camera. What is the world coming to?

Fire Safety: The High-Rise Priority

2010-10-06T00:50:00.034-04:00

So, after reading about the ship, yesterday:

When you work in a skyscraper, or stay in a hotel, or live in an apartment building, do you ever think what systems are supporting your safety in the event of a fire?

Big Buildings, Big Projects

As a Condo Board Member, I am supposed to think about it. We have to replace our fire safety system in a couple of years, for which funds must be available. We also have regular tests and checks of that system, for which the Condominium Association contracts experts. Various consultants check our boilers; our heating systems; our fire safety system; our emergency generator.

This past summer, we bid out and endured a fire-stopping project in the garage. We were grandfathered by the Code, but does that count? The City Inspector thought not. The Board found (as immediately as a Board can--three days) that it didn't wish to argue with that. It was not in our Association's best interest to defer a safety measure or invoke our venerable status. The project took two months and tens of thousands of dollars. Many residents with cars were inconvenienced. When it was done, we gained a safer place to live.

Big Projects, Bad Follow-Through

A few years ago, we added a fire extinguishers to the roof deck when we added the three new (electric) grills. That next week, we had flames shooting six feet up, too close to the elevator tower. The old fire extinguisher didn't work. Fortunately, two guests happened to work in fire service. Lucky for everyone but them.

Oh, there was hell to pay on that one for the Zombies in the Management Office. No replacement grease pans. One new extinguisher; Two old fire extinguishers unchecked. FAIL.

That next week, Condo Board members electronically passed 303 grease-mails through the medium of the Internet. Eventually we bought a grease-only, fire-safe (to all, including California standards) trash can. We also ordered three hundred grease pans so that they would be immediately, easily replaced. And got the fire extinguishers inspected. I figure about 263 of those grease-mails were not required, but we all wanted to kick ass, and that was how we did it. That condo manager left the next month or so, and we got the new Zombie Boss we have now.

Regular Maintenance

Twice a year, our Building Engineers replace a/c filters, check for dripping faucets, how much carpet is down on the floor (noise control) and--for working smoke alarms. We do not allow battery-operated ones to suffice in our building. Each unit must be hooked up to constant electricity. If they don't work, then the next week they are changed out and the Owner charged for the maintenance.

Every floor has a set of fire extinguishers. We pay a firm to check them and replace them on time.

Sometimes other stuff relates to fire safety: a banister falling off the wall in the stairwell. That's not just a stairwell, it's the emergency exit. More, the phone and cable boxes are also in these stairwells. They need to stay locked, so that the box lid doesn't raise up and impede progress in the event of an incident. The Board also had them put safety strips back on the steps in both stairwells, after a two-year absence.

So, how do you find the way out of your office? Do you know what the fire alarm sounds like? How about at your hotel? Where's the nearest stairs?

Scary and Careless

Somebody threw a gas can down our trash chute. The fire department inspectors came for that, to determine if it was attempted arson. We had to pay for trash chute cleaning after that stupid move, over a thousand bucks of Association money.

Somebody sprayed fire extinguisher in a stairwell for a prank. That screwed up a fire extinguisher and an emergency exit. It also cost money.

The point of this article is that all building systems are still dependent on human compliance.

We have to get them in place correctly. We have to update them and inspect them. We have to pay for experts and take their advice. Last of all, even the best systems can be taken down by one full grease pan, one prankster, or one idiot's gas can in the wrong place.

So individual safety is based on good systems and a good emergency response.

What is your personal emergency preparation?

Emergency Safety Committee-An Active Minority

Currently, we have a volunteer Emergency Safety Committee trying to figure out some safe evacuation plans for our building. There's a lot of frail people, and one guy in a wheelchair. The guy in the wheelchair has a lot more together on this than the frail people do.

Some of the committee members, like its chairman, have a lot of experience in emergencies. Other have volunteered to run a floor, or get a frail person out.

But it's a work in progress. For instance, no one wants to practice a fire drill. They want to kick back when they're home, and watch television, cook dinner, stay in their shower. We elected officials are weenies on this point. The consent of the governed and all that.

For each of us at home: we need to think about our safety. Because a Condominium Association has multiple owners, we contract some of this out or enforce it with Staff. And yet in the end it still comes down to this: we have to think about how we get out of our own door safely. We each have to have a plan.

The U.S. Fire Administration, a part of the Department of Homeland Security, has a portal page with everything you need to know about Escape Plans, Fire Extinguishers, Smoke Alarms, Rooms of the House, and Flaming Stuff such as Cigarette, Candle, and Cooking Safety. It also has special instructions for High-Rises, Mobile Homes, Rural Areas, and so forth. It's a good place to start.

Shipboard Fire, September 1949

2010-10-05T00:30:00.009-04:00

Image via Wikipedia

For National Fire Prevention Week:

My grandfather was a little older than the "Greatest Generation." He was an engineer, and so worked steadily and hard through the Depression. During World War II, likewise, he was involved in the industrial might of the War Effort, and worked long hours. In the meantime, my grandmother--a notable clubwoman and mother--ran the household.

By 1949, they decided the children were old enough to stay with family for a week. They booked passage on a cruise, drove to Cleveland, Ohio, and boarded "The Queen of the Lakes" on September 15, 1949. The ship, built in 1916, was a gorgeous luxury packet, with wood wainscoting and all the amenities. It could hold as many as 600 passengers. For this cruise, 524 had signed up.

The S.S. Noronic would usually cruise Lake Ontario, spend a couple of nights in Toronto's harbor (as shown above). The ship was grand, with a band and 171 crew--fabulous! From there, people would enjoy the night life and (package theatre or nightclub deal, for instance) included with the trip. My grandparents went out drinking and dancing, returning quite well-lit I'm sure from the evening of September 17th. Unlike many of the shipboard passengers, they did not bring guests back with them. But a great many passengers did.

Despite the late hour and possible Scotch-and-water overload, my grandfather, for some reason, could not sleep. He heard a clunk, the word 'fire' and got up to investigate.

One Bad Move, or Two, or Three
Apparently another passenger beat him to the concern. Don Church, a passenger on D deck, noted a smell of smoke about 2:30 a.m., when almost everyone was sleeping off their martinis. He followed it upstairs and then located a steward.

My grandmother said they could never figure out what caused the fire. They thought it was oily rags, piled sloppily together from polishing the fancy woodwork, that had warmed themselves to ignition: a kind of spontaneous combustion. The oxygen was all that was required to make a disaster. I sometimes wonder if a cigarette or cigar had a part in it.

Don Church, the steward, and another crewman attempted to fight the fire. According to the Walkerville Times:

The first person [Church] encountered was a bellboy named Earnest O’Neil, and they rushed to the linen closet. They both heard the crackling sound of fire from behind the door. Finding that he did not have the right keys for the closest, O’Neil ran to the steward’s office on D Deck to get the correct keys.

He returned with a fire extinguisher, and prepped himself for fighting the fire, and opened the door to the closet. Two others appeared to aid in the fight, including a passenger across from the closet.

Freed of the linen closet and with a fresh source of oxygen, the flames backdrafted down the hall in both directions, gaining fuel from the walls. Still with the hope of containing the fire, one of the courageous three went to get a fire hose, but as they opened the valve, only a trickle of water came out.

Church ran to D deck and got his family out. That might have been who my grandfather heard, slamming out of their cabin and running to evacuate. He stopped to notify:

[Church] soon encountered the wheelman on duty, Windsor’s Jim Donaldson, and explained the severity of the situation. Running up to A Deck, Donaldson advised Capt. Taylor and the First Mate, Gerry Wood. The Captain had returned from an evening ashore only 20 minutes earlier.

Having determined that the fire was serious, Donaldson ran to the wheelhouse to throw the ship’s whistle for the fire signal, but tragically, the whistle seized. Instead of sounding one long blast, three short blasts and another long blast – the signal for fire on board – the horn emitted a bone-chilling shriek that pierced the air without a pause.

At 2:38 a.m., eight minutes after the first passenger realized there was a problem, the ship was already 50% on fire. The harbor security called the fire service. Those responders could see the glow before they had even reached Pier 9. They called for reinforcements at 2:41.

Picture Montage: The Walkerville Times.

My grandfather pulled my grandmother to the deck, which was already starting to crowd. At this point I should tell you that none of the decks had direct access to the dock. Therefore people were trying to get out by jumping overboard. Once my folks determined the lay of the ship, they also were going to jump. The problem was, of course, all the other people who were each trying to see what they could do. And that problem was complicated in that a great many of the crew (all but sixteen, including the Captain) had been given the night off.

Evacuation: Not for the Squeamish
So, the fire-fighting equipment did not work. There was no exit, no organization, a huge fire out of nowhere in one of the worst possible sites for a fire: a ship. The fire fighters could see people silhouetted on B deck and surrounded by fire--no way out. They tried making a ladder bridge for those who could evacuate, a heroic effort in itself:

It was clear to all that the most daunting task was how to get people off the ship. Setting up fire department Aerial Number 5, an 85-foot long wooden ladder built in 1931, at the base of Noronic’s bow, the fire fighters aligned it with B Deck at an angle of 26 degrees. It barely made contact when a woman immediately jumped upon it, as did many other passengers.Almost in frenzy, the fast-clambering passengers and the natural movement of the ship made it very difficult for the fire fighters to keep the ladder aligned on the tip of the bow. Panicked, a female passenger stumbled on the ladder and the following passengers fell into her, their combined weight focused on a small point on the ladder. With a terrifying crack, the ladder snapped in two and sent the frightened passengers into the cold water.

The Fire Department tried again:

At this time, Aerial Number 1 arrived, but could not get to the ship because of parked cars. After clearing these obstructions, Aerial Number 1 neared the ship to a distance of 90 feet and extended its 100-foot ladder to C Deck. Having been made aware of the failure of ladder 5, they braced ladder 1 with hand-ladders underneath it at 15-foot intervals.

They were also lifting people out of the water who could cling to shorter ladders--backbreaking work.

Valiant efforts were made to extinguish the flames by fire fighters, but the heat was so intense that the water vaporized before it reached the hull of the ship! The metal structure was visibly white from the intense heat. By 2:46 a.m., the fireboat tied up to the Noronic’s bow and began to pour water in via two smaller hoses and the turret nozzle.

The stories my grandmother told about the evacuation were horrible. One man thought he could get out by sliding down a wire cable. My grandmother watched as he slid down, losing all his fingers before he dropped into the water. Another man, an Olympic grade swimmer, deserted his wife and children on board ship in a neat dive. He was never seen again. Lake Ontario is deep, wide, with temperature differentials that cause turbulence. My grandmother always said that he drowned, but there was only one drowning death reported: perhaps that was the one.

Somewhere in all this my grandmother suffered severe burns to her hands. Then my grandparents got their opportunity to get off the ship. They jumped together and started swimming. Unfortunately, my grandmother got stuck in a rain of suitcases over the side. Those that were evacuating planned to do it with their luggage. My grandfather lost her as she was buffeted, and taken under, by several direct hits. Plus, with her hands injured, and less fit overall, she was not doing so well.

The Fog of Disaster
My grandfather was swimming to the dock, turning around and seeing a dark-haired woman behind him in a blue gown. It was the wrong dark-haired woman in the wrong gown. He managed to save himself, and the strange woman. My grandmother was picked up by a skiff on the third gulp down after the third or fifth suitcase. They were re-united in the hospital. My grandmother wore bandages and later had plastic surgery to repair the defacement of her hands. They were always fragile after that--not for everything, but some minor impairment.

Lessons
What use is this family legend? Well, it gave my family examples of human selfishness and selflessness, life and death. We learned disaster potentially hits anyone. Beyond that, we did not think about evacuation any better than to know not to take our suitcase on the way out.

Image via Wikipedia

In truth though, this story could have taught us many lessons:
1. To know our terrain well enough to be able to leave it.
2. To believe in safety measures and safety standards and to ask about them.
3. Pack light or do not pack at all. Possessions are a hindrance in an emergency.
4. Be a leader, even if it is only to be the first to follow instructions.
5. Keep a clear head.
6. Don't park in a fire lane.

These are pictures from before, in 1930, during, and immediately after the fire. Nobody knows how many passengers died, somewhere between 104 to 139 of the 524 on board the ship, plus an unknown number of guests--as many as 300 total. The inquiry afterward was long and pointed. No crew member died. This was thought to be significant, but I don't think it is as important as the rags, the wood polish, the possible cigar, the time-off schedule, or the fire hoses and whistle out of commission. In other words, the best way to forestall disaster is to prepare for it.

Firefighter's Week: Pickles the Fire Cat

2010-10-04T00:03:00.002-04:00

This post mentions those best public relations experts for the Fire Department Out There: children's story book authors. I think kids are interested in the equipment and the heroism, then frequently reassured by the idea of safety. I think the firehouse fascinates because it compares and contrasts to the family arrangement they know.

I don't think we ever lose that fascination with this profession. But here's where it starts!

This is Pickles, the Fire Cat, created by Esther Averill. He is a feral cat and a bit of a bully until the firemen give him Purpose in Life. Now he is the one who saves the cats stuck in the trees. For you fire fighters out there who are tired of old Mr. Sweetcakes calling you about Tabitha--Esther Averill is who you should blame.

Just get your own Pickles! It'll work out.

Right now he is dancing with Florio and Jenny Linsky, the black cat who founded the Cat Club. We have some wild doings at the Fire House?? No, no, Pickles just Loves being a Fire Cat so much that he always hangs onto his hat. I do not know what Florio's deal is, however. They are all playing at the Cat Club.

Richard Scarry has an entire book about Fire Stations. The raccoons are being paid good tax dollars to stripe the pole when a fire alarm goes off. All the Fire Pigs get smeared with red paint! Hardee har har! These firefighters won't let a little red paint stop them though! What good guys they are!

Just in case you fire folk are feeling bad about being portrayed as pigs, I have added a little equal treatment footnote. Personally I wish Mr. Scarry used the ginger cats for the first responders. They are adorable. But really, so are the pigs. No one should worry over this.

Then we come to the Big Red Dog created by Norman Bridwell. Clifford is so huge, that without any training whatsoever (or opposable thumbs), he can handle the hose on a high-rise building. We are so glad! In all his books, Clifford scares people with his size and wins them over with his service. There are also children's fire safety rules in this book.

"Mama, I want to be a fire fighter when I grow up. Save people and do important things."

So there you go. Before life got complicated.

Thanks to all Firefighters this Fire Prevention Week!

Firefighter's Memorial Weekend

2010-10-03T00:12:00.060-04:00

This weekend, right before National Fire Protection Week, firefighters honor their fallen comrades. This is a picture of the US Fire Administration's National Fallen Firefighter's Memorial. It stands on the grounds of the National Fire Academy in Emmitsburg, Maryland. Flags all over the nation should be at half-mast today.

This ceremony will honor 105 fallen firefighters. The Fallen Firefighter's Foundation has a "Project Roll Call", to honor firefighters who fell before 1981.

In 2009, there were eighty-three fatalities. Around one hundred deaths per year occur for firefighters in the line of duty nationwide. This was a safer year, but still there are many names to remember, and many losses to grieve. These are their names. All of them left behind grieving family, friends, and comrades.

--Gary Stephens--John Myers--Kevin Kelley--Richard Rhea--

--Kyle Perkins--Cory Galloway--William Parsons--

--Mark Davis--Dean Mathison--Jeffrey Isbell--Albert Eberle, Jr.--

--Timothy Nicholas--Johnnie Hammons--John Adams--

--Derek North--"Freddy" Pierno--Charles Myshrall--

--Michael Darrington--Alan Hermel--Christopher Dill--

--William Vorwark--Gregory Cooke--Nolan Schmidt--Robert Strang--

--Mike Gilbreath--Robert France--Manny Rivera--

--George Wimberly--John Jeffers--John Weber--Heath Van Handel--

--Damion Hobbs--James Harlow--Charles Clough, Jr.--

--Dennis Simmons--Patrick Reardon--Brian Buss--

--Michael Flynn--Thomas Risk--Cohnway Johnson--

--Frankie Nelson--Stephen Cospelich--Paul Roberts--James Hall--

--Matthew Tramel--Jeffrey Read--Debra Cole--

--Conrad Mansfield--Lyle Lewis--Jimmy Cameron--William Thompson--

--Brett Stearns--Allan LePage--Dale Haddix--

--Robert Johnson--Ryan Wingard--David Grass, Jr.--

--Joseph Grace--Thomas Marovich--Eric Tinkham--

--"Jack" Horton--Paul Warhola--Jimmie Zeeks--David Jamsa--

--Jonathan Croom--"Chip" McCarthy--"Arnie" Quinones--

--"Ted" Hall--Kenneth Frizzell, Jr.--Richard Holst--Ricky Christiana--

Terry Sharon--Patrick Joyce--Carl Nordwall--

--Gary Street--John Thurman--Roy Westover, Jr.--

--Phil Whitney--Chad Greene--Robert Stone--

--Ramon Hain--Terrance Freeman--Walter Hessling--Gary Neidig, Jr.--

--Jimmy Davis, Sr.--Gregory Thompson, Jr.--Tommy Adams--

--Bobby Mullins--Craig Starr--Clair Pierce--

--Paul Holmes--Steve Koeser--Richard Miller--

These names can be found at the memorial page at the U.S. Fire Agency, Department of Homeland Security. By clicking upon their name, you can learn official information.

Thank you, firefighters and paramedics everywhere. I am so sorry for your many losses. Today I offer my condolences to the families and colleagues of fallen firefighters.

Photos from the DHS and Midwest Honor Guard .com.

Next Week is National Fire Prevention Week

2010-10-01T00:37:00.011-04:00

and this weekend is National Fallen Firefighter's Memorial Weekend.

The Ann T. Hathaway blog will be featuring posts in relation to: True Disasters! Fire safety. Fire trivia, and other small tributes to these national heroes and all-around good people next week, from October 3 through October 9.

Those of you in the fire service will hopefully get some of the credit you deserve, and a few laughs. If I have made some mistakes or omissions, feel free to write in! I am always interested in what you do, and hope to learn more.

The rest of us will maybe learn a few things, and also get a chuckle. And a chance to show some of the love and respect we feel for your profession. I hope you enjoy!

September Muster

2010-10-01T00:18:00.000-04:00

Every month, the Ann T. Hathaway blog honors those law enforcement officers who died in the line of duty. Please take a minute reflect on September's losses to our nation, our states, and our local jurisdictions. Each one died trying to bolster the good in our community.

--Kenneth Hall--Michael Gallagher--Kellie Pena--

--Dan Kromer--John Zykas--

--Thomas Alexander--Mark Barrett--Dan De Kraai--

--Ralph Slaton--Mark Longway--

--James Fowler III--Tracy Cooper--Will Phillips III--

You can learn more about these officers at the Officer Down Memorial Page.

Ann T. Hathaway

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