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[12 May 2009|12:57pm] |
This isn't new news, but I'd like to share it.
I've always wanted to be a homeowner, and never have been -- and you can see from my userpic that I'm far from young.
But around the turn of the year I paired up with ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) enegim and D. to look for a place to share. We started in Providence, Rhode Island, where we live now; but then moved the search to Boston. Boston's better for both of their working lives, I'm flexible, and it is Boston.
And, on the 10th of March we bid on a foreclosed two-family house in Mattapan, far south in Boston proper. On Friday the 13th (oh, well), our offer was accepted; and on Friday the 24th of April, we closed. We own it.
It needs plenty of work; we've been talking to contractors (and still are). But we hope the enegim and D. can move in June, and I not long thereafter.
So I won't be the RI in ri_whittlesey anymore. It's new; I've lived in the same place in Providence for forty years. Wish me luck!
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| Is it really happening? |
[04 Nov 2008|11:20pm] |
The New York Times now counts 273 electoral votes for Obama, and has projected him the winner.
And the Senate seats in New Mexico and Colorado are going Democrat..
This is a projection. Lots of votes are yet to be counted. But it looks like it's really happening.
How to set an alarm that will go off for the McCain concession speech?
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| On into election night |
[04 Nov 2008|11:04pm] |
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California friends, your polls closed five minutes ago. Good luck! Especially, down on Proposition 8.
I'm watching the New York Times elections dashboard -- less nerve-wracking than watching TV commentators trying to pretend that something new has happened every five minutes.
And I'm worrying all along, of course. It was fun watching the Obama wins pile up. Now, the count is moving to the plains states and the southwest, and McCain wins are coming in. That's not fun, even the wins in states that have always been safe for the Republicans.
Reminder: The states where the race was considered tightest have mostly been breaking for Obama. (Go, Pennsylvania! Come on, Virginia!)
It looks like a good Democratic pick-up in House and Senate, though not quite as much as the best that was hoped for.
May Proposition 8 go down!
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| Meme |
[03 Nov 2008|08:07am] |
Copy this sentence into your LJ if you're in a heterosexual marriage (or if you think you might be someday) and you don't want it "protected" by the bigots who think that gay marriage hurts it somehow.
I apologize a bit -- say so little of interest to say, myself, and then sending a pure meme to my friends...
But: Take marriage as sacred, if you will; there's a point to that, a strong one. If so, it's a sacred bond between those married, and with their community. (Marriage isn't private.) If that bond is made and upheld faithfully, how does anything anybody else does with their marriage change that? And if it isn't made and upheld faithfully, how does anything anybody else does with their marriage change that?
May we all be faithful in what we do. Nothing anybody else says or does will make us a bit more or less faithful than we are.
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| Bach on the cello |
[27 Aug 2008|03:08pm] |
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I've long found the Bach unaccompanied cello suites (BWV 1007-1012) the essence of pure music: the barely-sweetened dark chocolate; the Lapsang Souchong tea; the Guinness Stout. Sometimes they're too strong for me; but other times, their wonder washes over me and cleanses my soul, and their beauty brings me to tears.
Recently enegim, knowing I love them and that I'm a fan of the cellist Matt Haimovitz, got me his recording of the six suites.
Matt Haimovitz gave up a successful career as a soloist, to bring the classical cello - first the Bach suites, then a whole range of serious and not-serious music - to places where it never would have come. He plays far-out twelve-tone music so I still can't understand it (who can?), but love it; he follows Jimmi Hendrix in a version of the national anthem worth an enormous grin.
And he makes the Bach suites accessible: raspberries and whipped cream, for the dark chocolate. He's freer with the tempo and volume, and with rubato effects, than I've ever heard. He's playful; who'd have dared that, with these suites? But he brings out a lightness along with the wonderfulness; I think, a lightness that was always there, but seldom found.
Thank you, Matt Hamovitz, and enegim, and Johann Sebastian Bach.
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| Baroque trumpet |
[25 Aug 2008|05:03pm] |
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I'm hanging out in the Coffee Exchange here in Providence.
They've got a baroque trumpet recording on the sound system. Playing old standbys; Purcell and Handel, I think.
The trumpeter has absolute control of those high notes, so much that he doesn't have to hit them hard, but sings them out and then dances ornamentation around them.
Other instruments are more versatile and more subtle, but nothing else speaks joy like the baroque trumpet does.
Good singing to you, my friend; may the joy of your music be joy to you.
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| Arthur C. Clarke |
[26 Mar 2008|12:31am] |
I'd supposed he had died long ago; over the weekend, I was regretting to a friend that he hadn't seen parking places in Clarke orbit become some of the most valuable real estate there is.
I only got the news from a commemorative piece in today's New York Times.
"Overhead, without any fuss, the stars were going out."
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| Musing: Personal responsibility |
[18 Oct 2007|05:49pm] |
On the E-mail list SPSSX-L, the following SIG is now appended to all postings:
=====================
To manage your subscription to SPSSX-L, send a message to
LISTSERV@LISTSERV.UGA.EDU (not to SPSSX-L), with no body text except the
command. To leave the list, send the command
SIGNOFF SPSSX-L
For a list of commands to manage subscriptions, send the command
INFO REFCARD
I don't remember who suggested it, but actually having it there is essentially my doing. That is, I posted suggesting going ahead, with a suggested text, requesting responses. I revised the text, following suggestions in the responses. And I suggested it to the list administrator; talked it over; and we agreed to do it.
Now, I'm generally full of good ideas and suggestions, and share them pretty freely.
But pushing a suggestion to change something that would affect a whole community, felt different. I gulped, before writing to the administrator.
Originating and advocating a change, still more ordering one, take responsibility a step above giving counsel. I was surprised how much I shrank from it.
A friend who teaches at a local college once told me of an assignment she'd given in a class on management methods or some such: To suggest a change in something that was being done at the school, and make a case for the change. The students didn't have particular trouble doing that.
But then she suggested, to at least a couple of them, that they go to the college president, recommend the change, and present the case for it. I'm pretty sure she was planning to go with them, and said so. And, they balked like crazy: to change an exercise into advocacy for something that would change the lives of everybody at the school. It meant, to assume responsibility; and they were afraid to do that. Even though they thought the change would be for the better, and had reasons for it.
I've had quite a collection of responsible positions, at a good handful of organizations. But almost always it's been as a facilitator; or as a member of a committee or governing body. My voice had weight, sometimes a good deal of weight; but the final responsibility was collective. Even when, as was sometimes true, I could give advice that would be very hard to ignore, I didn't have full responsibility for the action.
A handful of times that I can think of, I've been in the position of making the final decision on something important: my 'yes' or 'no' would decide the matter, either way. Commonly it's come by surprise. In the cases I can think of, I've risen to the responsibility: made and stated a definite decision, and been comfortable with it afterward.
But it feels different from being part, even a big part, of a collective responsibility. I'm not sure I dislike individual responsibility; but having it means feeling alone, and knowing I'm dealing with something dangerous. Apparently, I haven't sought it. Now, I'm reflecting on whether I would take it if offered, and how I'd do if I had it.
I didn't have final responsibility for the SPSSX-L SIG; the list administrator had that. But she would listen to an opinion from the list community. I think that, to some extent, she listens to me personally. Advocating the change created a strong likelihood it would happen; as it did.
And it's brought to my attention that there are certain things I might have done, and might do, that go beyond what I've thought of as my usual self.
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| Twenty years |
[22 Sep 2007|08:22pm] |
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My mother died twenty years ago this past Tuesday. I didn't even notice. But Thursday evening I was talking with a friend, and the topic of her death came up, and I burst out crying. After all these years.
I'd still no notion of the anniversary. But my friend asked to see what I'd written a few years ago, and I forwarded it. And still had no notion, until it occurred to me last night the anniversary must be pretty close, and I looked at my notes.
There are too many badly wounded people about. I wish her healing.
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| A New England winter story |
[30 Aug 2007|03:30pm] |
That last posting got me thinking about winter, and remembering this.
I was in Cambridge, Massachusetts, so this was the winter of '66-'67 or '67-'68. Winters were tougher, then.
This was a bitter cold day: daytime high in single digits Fahrenheit, blustery wind. All buildings were cold; furnaces and heating plants couldn't keep up. Outdoors, you put on all you had, put your head down, and bulled your way through to the next warm place.
Those days, Polaroid was a very big employer in Cambridge. And in those days a lot of hourly workers still got paid in cash in pay envelopes, instead of checks.
This was a Polaroid payday. Harvard Trust Company had the big cash shipment all ready to send over. And just about on time, two guys come in for the Polaroid payroll. They're wearing pistols, and uniform caps from the armored car company, and heavy winter jackets. One signs for the money; it's a signature on their approved list. He apologizes that his signature looks funny because his hands are so cold.
Nobody thought a thing of it, until a little later two other guys come and say that they're there for the Polaroid payroll.
Of course, nobody on the street saw a thing. That day, nobody would have noticed a parade of elephants. Absolutely the perfect day for the heist.
I never heard what happened. I wanted them to get away. Likely not; jobs like that always have inside information, and you crack them by finding and breaking the inside source. But I still cheered them.
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| Happy New Year! |
[28 Aug 2007|07:54pm] |
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Here we go again! Saturday is the first of September; Monday, Labor Day.
That's New Year's Day, here in southern New England. Oh, we keep the same calendar as everybody else; and we're glad enough for the holiday season around the winter solstice. But this is when the year begins.
It took me some years to recognize this, coming as I did from the mid-Atlantic and upper South. Labor Day meant a lot there, too; starting school and all kinds of things.
But here it isn't just starting some things; it's a complete new start, and we all get as ready as we can manage for the year's tasks and accomplishments.
The year ends on Memorial Day, but not altogether. We don't start much in June and July, but we're active continuing and finishing what's left from the year just closed. It's August that's the inter-year period; from the first of August, less and less happens, until the last two weeks the whole region seems in siesta.
Why is the near-equinox important, instead of the solstice? Nobody says it is, but that's what we do. And it's the equinox heading toward dark and cold, not light and warmth. Fall is the season of beauty and awakening, here, but it also means heading to winter, the truly tough season. (Or it was. Winters haven't been much, the last two decades; global warming?)
For us, it's not the emerging into light, nor the celebration that light will return. We dive in, and the dark is our energy.
Happy New Year, everybody!
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| Home again |
[12 Aug 2007|07:11pm] |
I'm back, I'm happy to say. I was away on several trips, or in brief periods between, from Thursday the 12th of July through this past Thursday, the 9th of August; and I've been groggy and recovering since then.
Good wishes to all; and I'm afraid I've read hardly anything of LJ in all that time. I'm catching up, but I'll probably never read everything from that time, thoroughly. If you posted what I might well have responded to, that's why I didn't.
Good wishes to all!
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| A meme for our Times |
[31 Jul 2007|05:52pm] |
From, of all people, the : if New York Times: reasons for sex. If that isn't a meme, I don't know what is.
"The heart has reasons, that reason knows not of." OK, folks: heart or reason? Or both?
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| Hubris is followed by nemesis |
[28 Jun 2007|04:11pm] |
Dear Weather Gods,
I did not insult you, remember? I didn't say it had to be beautiful forever. I didn't say we had a right to it. I was thankful:
We've had days that have been almost crisp; air crisp rather than soggy, cool enough to walk out in at midday, cool enough to stimulate brisk walking in the evening I can't say either like spring or like fall; a real high-summer day, but better than I can imagine our having any right to.
See? I was even humble. I don't think this was necessary:
Weather Underground Email Service for Providence, RI
National Weather Service Forecast
Mon Jun 25 2007: Sunny. Highs in the upper 80s.
Tue Jun 26 2007: Sunny, hot. Humid with highs in the lower 90s
Wed Jun 27 2007: Sunny, hazy, hot. Humid with highs in the mid 90s.
Thu Jun 28 2007: Mostly cloudy. Humid with highs in the upper 80s
"The weather I left Washington, D.C., to get away from."
OK. We get it, thank you. Enough, already!
Your faithful correspondent has been good for just about nothing. I think I used to handle this all right, back in the Washington days. Not acclimated? Is it true, being not so young lowers your tolerance?
Lethargic at best. Near-stupor, sometimes. I was out yesterday afternoon, and felt so weak and light-headed I was nervous driving home.
A half hour in a cool bath, and was finally cool enough that my 88° apartment (it's 89° today) felt good. In honor of which, here's something I wrote for cyan_blue:
I love water. The mysterious peat-darkened murkiness of a still lake, mud on the bottom, tree branches trailing in the water. The tang of salt and sand and sun at a sea beach, and the game of playing through waves that are too strong to face up to, and how good it feels to shower off in sweet water afterward. Holding onto a rock in a cool swift stream, letting the current wash the dust of a long meeting off my soul.
Or, suspended out over the side of a small fast sailboat, watching the hull skip over the water as the centerboard slices through below, so wet from spray that afterward, you can't tell by looking whether we capsized or not.
Steering a heavy sailboat in the brisk breeze she likes, holding against the thrust of the wheel, turning harder or easing off to keep the balance of wind and water and hull.
Hurray for water.
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| Don't drive in Rhode Island |
[28 Jun 2007|01:47pm] |
I want to say everybody knows that; but a few of you fortunates 3,000 miles away may not.
I have it on good authority that in one Rhode Island driver-education class the teacher was talking about signaling. One kid raised his hand and said, "My dad says you should never signal; it just lets people know what you're going to do."
Well - yesterday I was driving on Interstate 95, just south of Providence. I had a left-hand entrance and a right-hand exit close together, and had to get two lanes right quickly.
I signaled for the first lane shift. (I didn't grow up here.) There was a good space in the next lane right, right by me. But before I could move over, two cars that were a little behind, sped up to fill the gap. One of them got ahead of me and moved left, into the lane I was trying to vacate.
I wasn't sure I believed it even seeing it. To be aggressive for some advantage? Maybe; some believe in courtesy, some don't. But against their own interests? I was signaling I was leaving exactly the spot they wanted. Isn't it easier to wait, and make the easy change?
I wasn't sure I believed it, even having seen it. But when I signaled for the second lane change, an SUV that was behind me in the right lane roared ahead to pass me on the right, then went left ahead of me into the lane I was leaving.
And you know? They may not have been irrational. If they'd waited for me to move over and leave a gap, other Rhode Island drivers would likely speed up to close the gap, leaving the guys in the right lanes stuck.
Would anybody offer political asylum? What if it's based on well-founded fear of abuse?
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| Incredible weather |
[24 Jun 2007|07:09pm] |
My friend Hal laughed at me a bit, earlier this week. I was describing to him what incredibly beautiful weather we've been having in Rhode Island, and I guess I shied a little, as if we don't deserve it and it was inviting retribution to talk about it. He said I've been living in New England too long. Likely so, and an upbringing by good midwestern Calvinists doesn't help.
Truly, it's hard to write about how it's been, and not fear I'm tempting the gods. We've had days now that have been almost crisp; air crisp rather than soggy, cool enough to walk out in at midday, cool enough to stimulate brisk walking in the evening.
I never expected to be cool enough at a contra-dance, in this season; but Friday evening, we were cool enough that people tried not to be in the set in front of the fans.
After Meeting today I had a long talk with a good friend. Then I had a small errand to do before going inside; and after the errand, instead of walking the two blocks back home, walked back by way of Blackstone Boulevard and the north end of Elmgrove Avenue, the three miles of many walks with the dogs.
I never expected to be comfortable walking in the noonday Solstice sun; but even at a Solstice noon, it was a day for finding any reason not to go in.
Yes, it was a Solstice noon. I walked in the shade when I could; and the long pants I was wearing were a little too warm.
But for the day - I can't say either like spring or like fall; a real high-summer day, but better than I can imagine our having any right to.
The sky was almost steel-blue. The leaves are still a rich-green canopy, with no sign of the stress of a long summer. The most exposed, and shortest-cut, grass is showing summer-brown, but most is still a full-vigor rich green. The color came to me: this is what it was like, the day in Indiana when my aunt Nancy took an excited little boy out the back yard to see the bees swarming.
Plenty of people to see, and dogs to meet, along the Boulevard. (Walking right by the "No dogs allowed" signs, as I've walked by them many times with Souchong the pug, and Taber the Lab.) There was one black pug to melt over. And Tara, the Italian greyhound who's a regular at Books on the Square; a beautiful dog, almost tiny, with perfect slim face and body - and doesn't she know it!
(Souchong wouldn't have liked today. With short black fur and short little nose, he'd have had trouble with the strong sun no matter how cool it was. I hope I'd have remembered to keep his fur wet.)
Drat it, even if this is New England, this day is to love. Nemesis, you can strike later; this is our day, OK?
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| Darkroom: a memory |
[24 Jun 2007|05:51pm] |
cyan_blue reminded me: It was especially good to be in a space where I had no tasks to do and no schedule to keep. ("Home from Harbin...", 2007-06-24 13:26:00)
This has to have been when I was a college sophomore, by what physics course it was.
We had one of those lab experiments where you measure a multiple-flash photo of the trajectory of a steel ball, and then calculate velocities and distances and accelerations.
The multiple-flash was a disk with a slit, spinning in front of an arc lamp; measurement was counting squares on a background grid; the calculation was paper, or slide rule, or mechanical desk calculator; and the photo was 4"x6" sheet film, wet-processed.
We'd take the exposed film to the darkroom; set the timers for developing and fixing times; check that we could find everything by touch; turn out the lights; slide the film into a carrier, and the carrier into the developing tank; start the timer, and - do nothing.
For 90 whole seconds, there in the darkness, there was nothing you could do. You couldn't work on your lab notebook entry. You couldn't study, no matter how far behind you were. You couldn't rush to get out quickly - the chemicals worked at their own speed.
For that little time there was peace, without the duty or even the chance to reject it and hurry on.
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| Renewable: an informed view from Washington |
[24 Jun 2007|05:29pm] |
"A Wind-Powered Town, an Energy Bill and a Lot of Hot Air"
By Dana Milbank
Washington Post, Friday, June 15, 2007; A02
"There's a certain irony in Washington's failure to devise a modern energy policy. This is, after all, the one place on earth that is powered almost entirely by wind.
"Lawmakers are growing further apart on energy legislation, as Democrats demand alternative fuels and Republicans insist on more drilling. But for both sides, the ability to talk about energy is both plentiful and renewable. ..."
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| Nancy and the bees |
[08 May 2007|05:32pm] |
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Just after the Second World War, when I was two, my mother and I, and my younger brother when he was born, lived for about a year with my mother's parents in Bloomington, Indiana. (Father had taken the job in Washington where he was to spend his career; and for that long, it was impossible to find living space for a new family.)
My mother's sister Nancy was living there, too; she'd married a Marine captain during the war, and been widowed on Iwo Jima. She's stayed one of my core good people all my life, and she was for me then. She told me only recently, when I wrote of those times, that I'd been support for her then, too.
My grandparents had an old farmhouse in the country near Bloomington, and among other things had some hives of bees. On a beautiful day in May or June, some of the bees were swarming.
Nancy took me to see them. I was afraid, but she encouraged me along; not pushing a frightened child, but showing the child the wonder in what could be frightening. I was frightened but excited too; and Nancy was with me, and I held her hand very tightly. She said, "Rich, when the bees are swarming, it's like they're on a picnic. You know when you're on a picnic you're having a good time, and you feel friendly to everybody. The bees are like that, and if we don't bother them, they'll leave us alone."
The bees were in the stage of swarming when they all fly around, before they've found a place to settle in a clump; and we walked right in among them. It was a wonderful early-summer day: the strong colors of bright sun, deep blue sky, the grass a rich new green. And the bees, all around us. I hardly remember seeing bees; instead, it was a golden humming haze all around us, a gold foreground against the background green and blue and sunlight. I held Nancy's hand very tightly, in joy at the day, and in wonder at the bees and that we could be there among them, and my heart gone out to my aunt who brought me there.
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