Momentum and Memento

My Earliest Memory

2011-11-06T16:39:00.001-07:00

I attended a memoir writing lab last weekend. Here is one of the results from it.

My Earliest Memory

By Joan R. Saks Berman, Ph.D.

We were going to California bytrain to see Uncle Sol and Auntie Ann. Although I was only about two and ahalf, I remembered them from before they left Chicago for Uncle Sol to become aHollywood writer. That was when we lived in the apartment with the Murphy bedthat folded into the wall.

Wewent by train because it was during World War II and air travel wasn't commonyet. I have my own young memories of the trip and some embellishments fromstorytelling at family gatherings. I remember walking on the platform next tothe big, black locomotive at Union Station and seeing re red wheels that werehigher than I was. The "We" was my mother paternal Grandma Sarah andme. We had our own compartment, with an upper funk bed that the porter wouldpull down in the evening—could it be that Grandma climbed up the ladder tosleep there? I also remember the toilet that folded up into the wall. For along time, I thought that perhaps that memory was an illusion, until, as anadult in my 30's, I visited a friend in ICU and there was one just like it! Itwas great to be validated.

Duringthe day we would sit in the coach with other passengers, many of whom wanted tomake friends with the cute toddler. The train was filled with soldiers goingfrom one end of the country to the other. My grandmother had carried a shoppingbag full of kosher corned beef, salami, and Jewish rye bread. My uncles, hersons, ridiculed her, pointing out that the train had a dining car. Once the traingot under way, however, we were glad to be able to make our fragrantsandwiches, because the wait for the dining car seemed interminable to thehungry travelers, and they hovered around us, wishing they had been as smart asmy grandmother to bring food for the three-day trip.

Afterthe long train trip, I remember being in Los Angeles in the sun. in addition tothe adult people, there was "Cousin Johnson," a black cocker spanielwho knew a few tricks. One of them, to my delight, was jumping over our legs oncommand as we sat on the grass.

Lu Gu Lake - The Land of Women

2011-01-02T13:49:00.003-07:00

I'm posting this because of a recent Facebook posting regarding LuGu Lake.

September 21, 1995. tape transcription from mini cassette 5, china 1995

After many long hours of riding on unpaved or semi-paved roads
through the mountains in the rain, and having to stop for a tire
change, we arrived at the overlook to Lu Gu Lake. Then we
stopped again at the toll gate entering the village, to buy
"tickets." The village had only been introduced to electrical
power, and therefore to television since July, not more than two
months earlier than our arrival. On the island that you can see
from the road, there's a red©roofed temple, which we were told
that we might visit later. Entering the town on our minibus, we
looped around on a dirt, or rather mud, road that went almost
exactly up to the shore of the lake. At the very end of the road
was our guest house, where our bus drove into the courtyard. The
building had carved wooden doors, brightly painted in primary
colors. We were ushered into the bare dining room, seating
ourselves at the plain metal table for a steaming hot lunch. It
was still raining when we finished eating, so the trip across the
lake to the Buddhist temple was cancelled. Given that the dugout
canoes that I saw at the shore were half©filled with water, I
can't say that I'm sorry.

So we switched to plan B, which was to visit in the home of
a Mosuo woman. We walked down the muddy road with our umbrellas
to our destination. Standing in the courtyard, our Mosuo-speaking guide explained that one section of the building was
known as the Flower House. It is where the young women, the
daughters of the family, receive their lovers. Opposite that was
the family temple, for these people are Tibetan Buddhists, or
Lamaists as the guide referred to them. There was a room with an
altar, and a pad for prostrating oneself in front of the altar.
Also in that section were some small guest rooms, sparsely
furnished.

Between these two wings is the part known as the mother's
room. It is the place where family ceremonies are held. We were
received inside by the mother of the household, and her daughter,
and the daughter's son of kindergarten age. The daughter's nine-year-old daughter was in school until almost the end of our
visit. We were offered seats, low benches and cushions, around
the fireplace in the floor of the room. A tiled altar was
against the wall behind it. On the altar was a bust of Chairman
Mao and several smaller items. We were offered plates of pumpkin
seeds and sunflower seeds, some apples, crackers, and small bowls
of wine made from oats and corn. Ears of fresh corn were roasted
in the coals of the fire and served to us. Two bare electric
bulbs hung from the ceiling, but were not turned on. A skylight
in the ceiling was covered with a translucent, parchment-like
skin. The fire and the skylight were the only source of light
while we sat in the grey afternoon asking a lot of questions.

The woman told us that she had only one child, her daughter,
because after the one birth she had some sort of sickness which
prevented her from having more children. In the Mosuo language,
there is no word for father. Men are called "Uncle," but now the
small children in the family know whom their father is. The
house had belong to the older woman's mother, and to her mother
before her, and three generations were living in it now. Neither
she nor her daughter had had the opportunity to attend school.
At one point in the conversation, she joked that she didn't even
know how to read the characters for "men" and "women" on the
bathroom signs, but she's glad that her grandchildren are able to
go to school now. A portable radio was hanging on a nail on the
wall. She had heard of the UN Conference on Women on the radio,
so she thought we must be very special people.

We asked her a lot of questions about the matriarchal
culture of her village people. When I asked if it was ever the
case that men forced themselves sexually on women, she said that
before the young man could come to visit the daughter, he must
visit the mother and she must give her approval. When we asked
about fighting and yelling and arguing, she laughed. She thought
that was a very funny question to ask about the relationship
between men and women. She said that there was no violence
between men and women.

The house had two big wooden pillars in it. We were told
that one was from the top of the tree, and represents the woman.
The other, from the bottom, or roots, of the tree, represents the
man. One of the ceremonies which takes place in the mother's
room is the passage to adulthood at the age of thirteen.
Depending on the gender of the child passing to adult, the
ceremony takes place around the appropriate pillar. After the
ceremony, the new adult wears a different style of clothing.
However, it's usually not until age 17 or 18 that young women
start taking lovers.

We were told the story of the creation of Lu Gu Lake, also
known as Mother's Lake: Once upon a time there was an orphan boy
who was mute. He was something of an outcast among the other
children, and they didn't share their lunches with him, so he had
nothing to eat. He wandered off by himself and discovered a
stream with big fish in it. He cut off the tail of the fish and
ate it for his lunch. He returned to the stream every day, and
the fish would always grow back its tail. He would repeat the
process and have his lunch. Finally, the others noticed that he
wasn't lean and sickly any more. He had gained weight and looked
healthy, with rosy cheeks. They followed him and saw what he was
doing. Then they pulled the big fish out of the river, causing a
flood which formed the lake. While this was happening, one woman
was feeding her pigs and the pig trough floated away on the lake.
So now we see the dugout canoes which are the same shape as pig
troughs.

When we left the woman's house, we walked back to the guest
house and finally unloaded the luggage from the bus and checked
into our rooms. These accommodations are what our guide, Ginger,
called "basic," meaning there are not only no private in-room
bathrooms, there are no bathrooms. There is no running water.
There was an old©fashioned pitcher and wash basin in each room
and a latrine down the stairs and outside the courtyard. The
other thing which defined these accommodations as very basic is
that there was no electricity. Probably there was electricity
some of the time, because there were light bulbs and switches in
the halls, but turning on the switch had no effect. Candles and
matches were supplied in each room. Also provided were heavy
comforters to be put over the wool blankets on the bed, because
there is no source of heat at night. At the high mountain
altitude, and with the rainy weather, it was rather cold.

In the evening, after our meal, a bonfire was built in the
courtyard. A group of Mosuo women and men started singing and
folkdancing, wearing the clothing customary to the area. Later
they invited all the guests to join them. After the dancing was
finished, there was a songfest, with the different groups of
guests, including Chinese students and other Chinese tourists,
being to encourage to contribute songs of their own.

(start of tape 6)Other people at guest house: one was a journalist, one was an
artist...unintelligible...(one was an engineer at Shenzhen).
They had gone horseback riding the day before, going out when we
arrived and they came back while we were still eating lunch,
because it was raining and it wasn't much fun. It's been raining
for most of this trip, as a matter of fact. We're getting kind
of water logged.

The next day we left, backtracking over the mountain road to
the town of Fighting River, which we had travelled mostly in the
dark two nights before, after having a Mongolian barbecue dinner.
This time we had lunch in the same restaurant. Then we took off
in another direction for another 50 km. of bad road.
We've come down (in altitude) quite a bit. We're on a better
road, altho there's been rockslides on the road. We're right at
the Yangtze River, it's 5:28pm After crossing the Yangtze, we
made one of our famous combination roadside pitstops and
photo-opportunies, in the rain, of course. But everyone agrees
that the roadside pitstops, even in the rain, are better than
using the outhouses where we've gone in some of the small towns.

Friday, September 22

We are in Li Jiang now. In the morning, we went to the Jade
Mountain Summit Monastery, where we saw the entwining magnolia
trees, which were saved from the Red Guard during the Cultural
Revolution, by the Lama throwing himself on it and saying,
"You'll have to kill me first before you cut this down!"

Leaving the monastery, we went to Bai Sha, which means White
Sands.This is where, at one time, was the old capital of the
area.The old house built by Mr. Mu, who became the power of the
area.In that house are frescoes that are 600 years old.There
are over a hundred figures in the paintings, and they show a
mixture of levels of religion, including Tibetan Buddhism,
commonly called Lamaism here, Taoism, Chinese Buddhism, and then
the Four Kings in the 4 corners and there were figures on each
side showing factions that they had split up into. It was
explained to us that the art style of some of the figures show
the different time, because the Sung and Tang Dynasties were
portrayed as fleshier, chubbier--they thought that was good-looking.
The one told us about it is himself an artist, and
he was there with his little girl, who was sort of hanging on to
him. And then we went into their studio, where they were doing
paintings of Dung Ba writing, which is the Naxi pictographs. He
was working there with several artists, painting some scrolls,
which, of course, our people bought. Mona bought one which is
the choreography of a dance.

Saturday, September 23

On the way back into town, (this was outside of town) we
passed an area and off in the distance saw some buildings, which
is Ginger said, where Little Swallow lived. Little Swallow is
one of the characters in a PBS documentary on Li Jiang. This is
the place that the 4-hour documentary was made. Little Swallow
was a blind girl who wanted to become a massage therapist in
order to earn money to go away to school. As a matter of fact,
working in our hotel were two young people who were blind,
working as massagists (masseurs?), and I had a massage from one of them
yesterday, before dinner. Apparently, there is a massage teacher
who is helping these people to become productively employed.

But before the massage, we went for lunch in the old town.
The name of the place was Din-Din. We ate on the second floor of
a room which was, for the most part, open-air and rather chilly.
It has been very cold here. We're at 8000 feet altitude, more or
less, and it has been raining, as usual. What they had was a
brazier, like a deep bowl with a lip. They put burning charcoal
in it and put it under the table to keep our feet warm, and help
dry out our shoes! I feel like I've been walking in puddles of
water within my shoes and that I'm growing webs between my toes.

Then we walked through the old town, did some shopping, of
course. A lovely old town with narrow walking streets, no
transportation driving through it, and canals, with bridges over
the larger canals. The smaller canals parallelled the street,
with little planks or bridges that go from the street into each
shop or home. Among the things that I bought were a Naxi vest
which buttons on the side, and a little jacket with pockets, to
wear like a blazer kind of jacket or suit jacket. Also, at the
monastery, I bought a wall-hanging which shows figures for
longevity and good fortune, and up above are eight buddhist
saints. It's on red velvet background with gold braid sown on to
make the designs and dragons on the side.

In this town, many of the women wear "Mao" caps, supposedly
because Chairman Mao came to visit the town at one point. So we
saw them wearing blue Mao caps and their blue vests, similar to
the one I bought, and a skirt, and wrapped around them a padding
to protect their backs, and then they carry baskets like that,
and carry umbrellas over all of that. I took a few shots on the
street, I hope they came out.

And so now, we're heading to Dali. A few comments on
Chinese society. It seems that no semblance of a classless
society has ever been achieved here, and now the privileges of
class are blooming strong again. For example, some sleeper cars
one the train are restricted to those who have position, for
example an academic position or other kind of important position.
An ordinary person, even if they have the money, cannot buy the
privilege of a soft sleeper. There is also still a heavy system
of guanxi, which is something like obligation with connections.
You use your connections to obtain favors and pay back favors,
and that's how things get done. Sometimes, according to Roger,
our guide in Chengdu and Sichuan province, the favors that you
have to provide somebody to whom you are obligated, is to find a
"beauty," in other words to find an attractive young girl for the
purposes of sex. So you also still have sexism alive and well,
along with the class privileges. The physicist that we met in Lu
Gu Lake, when we exchanged cards, was very impressed with the
fact that we were Ph.D.'s, that we had such a high level of
education. That's part of the stratification.

We just had lunch in a little neighborhood restaurant, Jian
Chuan, and took some pictures of the open kitchen and sat at
little tables with little benches, sort of your
local.........try again to decipher this phrase.
This trip is much different from my previous trips,
where we always ate in hotel restaurants and other kinds of fancy
restaurants. This is eating where the real folks eat. Last
night at dinner we had what we called french-fried potatoes, and
the flavor brought up the memory of when I was at Peterson
School, and we used to go to the Chinese takeout restaurant on
Bryn Mawr and buy a box of French fries, and pass the good-tasting french fries around and enjoy the salty taste/

Passing a brickyard where they have big stone ovens that are
making bricks and roof tiles, and some other kind of ceramic
shape, obviously also used in housing construction somehow.

We arrived in our hotel in Dali around 4:30 or quarter to
five in the afternoon. It's a charming hotel in the sense that
we're in an old-fashioned courtyard, with lovely designs on the
building. However, the rooms all open out on to an open©air
balcony, and, it is once again, icy, damp, cold, and there's no
heat in the rooms (sniff) and it's raining. Although the view is
nice, it's very uncomfortable. My shoes are soaked again. Last
night in Li Jiang, they gave us electric heaters, but there are
no heaters here, so we have electric blanket pads to go under the
sheets, so you're fine as long as you're in bed, but it gets cold
when you get out of bed. And it's raining, raining, raining....
We're going to have to cancel the trip to Tiger Leaping Gorge,
because the rain has washed out the road, making it dangerous to
travel. I'm not sure what's going to happen with our boat ride
on Erhou Lake, which we're supposed to do tomorrow. We will be
going to the place where they make batik. I'll talk more about
that later. Meanwhile, I've been spending the evening after
dinner...Oh we ate dinner at a place called Salvador's Dali,
which is sort of a cute little play on words...and then I've been
sitting in the room, writing postcards and watching Chinese TV.

My photos may be posted later. Meanwhile, for those who want to see what LuGu Lake looks like, go to

Fidel Comes to Dinner

2010-12-29T14:19:00.004-07:00

This is something I found in the files on my computer:

FIDEL COMES TO DINNER

Dream Journal, November 1, 1997

This must be a good omen, to be dreamt on the night of my last official day as an employee of IHS. I suppose it was suggested to me by reading the flyer about the potluck for the Caravan which is coming to New Mexico on its way to Mexico and Guatemala. Or maybe it was all the news about Zhang Zemin, from China, visiting the US, and ringing the opening bell at the Stock Exchange, amidst a week of wild ups and downs. In any case, I was sitting at home with a few friends on a sunny fall Sunday afternoon. There was some kind of flower festival going on outside, or a few blocks away, a big event that a lot of people were coming and going for, but in a relaxed Sunday afternoon kind of way. We knew that Fidel was in town for various events, and while we were chatting came up with the idea of inviting him over for a visit. I guess there was going to be a potluck for him later in the evening, but luckily there was a slow spot in his schedule where he had time to just kick back for a while. Another thread of my life which might have suggested this was that Thursday nite, at El Grupo, the Spanish conversation group I attend every two weeks, we were visited by 15 teachers from Bogota, Columbia. They’re in town for a couple of months to attend intensive English classes at the University, part of the LAPE program. I spent the evening talking to Gilma about her life in Bogota, and the contrasts she finds here.

Well, Fidel was charming, but anyone who has seen him in person knows that. I actually did have an experience like that, when I was in Cuba in 1970 with the cane-cutting Venceremos Brigade. He came to our camp to address the 500 of us, and afterwards, sat around the table where we had our meal and talked with us informally. Lowen, then my husband, took some great photos. I wonder if we can find them. The man in my dream didn’t look like the real Fidel; he was much younger, didn’t have a beard, and his hair was caramel-colored and curly. Perhaps, in the dream, I was but younger, too. I remember some difficult scene in my dream when I went to change my clothes, dress up a bit I guess, and had some trouble with the plumbing in the bathroom, while the company waiting in the living room. We spoke in Spanish, but the ideas flowed easily, fluently. In fact, later in the dream, someone asked why we didn’t ask him questions in English, since he supposedly does know the language, but we responded that there was no need, we were doing perfectly well in Spanish, and I think somehow it seemed to be a more intimate exchange. I don’t remember the content of what we discussed, altho we never did get to take him out to see the flowers, since he seemed much more interested in sitting and chatting with us. For a while, I had his full attention, as the others were elsewhere in the room, and he seemed to take a special liking to me, so we were really having a tete a tete. He wanted to get a real sense of the people living in Albuquerque, instead of being dragged around from one formal event to another. For a while, we sat on the front porch, and talked with people as they came by, on their way to and from the flower show. (Perhaps this was my mind’s representation of Albuquerque’s annual international balloon fiesta). No police or bodyguards were present. The sun was the golden color of a warm fall afternoon, and the ambiance relaxed and pleasant, a lazy but exciting Sunday afternoon. I wanted somebody to take my picture with Fidel for a memento (how unusual for me, I usually refuse people’s offers to take my picture when I’m photographing). Everybody else kept trying to get in the picture, for a large group shot, when all I wanted was one of me with Fidel, to show the warm intimate conversation we had had. I think it was about here that I woke up, having to go to the bathroom, about 7:10 a.m. So much for my ideas about sleeping late on Saturdays...

Resistance is Futile

2010-11-12T08:44:00.003-07:00

You may wonder why I titled this rant about so-called red-light cameras with a line from Star Trek: The Next Generation, uttered by The Borg. (I started out thinking I would call it "The injustice of the red light camera.") It's because, in my attempt to avoid having to pay the excessive seventy-five dollar fine, I have run up against what feels like the stone, or metal, wall encountered by humans who meet up with The Borg.

I have received tickets from the cameras three times. The first happened when making a right turn on red, which is not illegal. However, according to the camera and the hearing officer, my stop was four-tenths of a second too short, and therefore illegal. The second occurred after making a left turn on an arrow some unknown tenths of a second after it turned red—I didn't request a hearing that time, because I couldn't think of an argument that would win me an dismissal or at least a reduction in my fine. Actually, I don't think there is such a thing as a reduction. There may not even be such a thing as an dismissal. The third, and most recent one, took place at 12:30 a.m. on July 20, 2010.

I was on my way home from working as a grief counselor for the employees of Emcore, where a horrendous multiple murder scene had taken place a few days before. I knew as soon as I went through the intersection and saw a flash of light in the dark night that I had done something to generate a ticket from the camera. I waited at home for the bad news in the mail, even though this date was after cameras were removed from three intersections because they were on state highways. Central Avenue is still a state highway, as far as I knew. When I received the notice of violation in the mail, it stated that I had been going 45 miles an hour in a 35 mph speed limit zone.

The hearings for these infractions take place separate from Metro Court, since the violations are in a different class from ordinary traffic tickets. The cameras are not even owned by the city, but by a private company somewhere in Arizona. I had received and read a humorous article in my French class, Police Checkpoints: how to avoid problems? Translating freely, the three rules are: #1,don't discuss, i.e., don't try to give the officer excuses; #2, don't lie—this is a corollary to the first; and #3, stay calm, above all stay calm.

Aggression will complicate the situation irrevocably. Be polite with the forces of law and order, at least as much as they are with you. Don't believe that a smile will betray you. It won't cost you anything. Follow the instructions that they give you, like a good student, "Your papers, please, and exit from the vehicle." Don't sigh and don't tense up. If you haven't done anything irreparable, there is no reason that the stop will go badly. If you respect these three principles, you will see that even law enforcement officers sometimes have their hand on their hearts.

The only problem with all of this is that there is no traffic stop, and there is no contact with a human being. It's you (or me) against the robot, against the machine. So, skipping these rules, go directly to "jail" and pay the $75 fine. The trouble is, these are administrative processes, not criminal misdemeanors at all. According to my lawyer friend, they are a beast unto themselves, without any real due process, and unconstitutional. Breaking those rules, I wanted to discuss my ticket. In the past, I had often been able to overcome parking tickets and simple moving violations by going to court and presenting my defense.

In the hearing room on the date assigned, I listened to the procedure of the victims before me, as they presented their thinking to the police officer conducting the pre-hearing counseling. He spoke of having the laws for reduction of risk and preventing accidents. He mentioned something about nuisance control. You may have heard of the city's task force on nuisance abatement which sometimes results in old hotels on Route 66 being torn down because of their unsavory clientele, and old ladies being evicted from their homes. The officer succeeded in discouraging several people from going to hearing. A couple said they just came to hear the explanation of why they got their tickets. One woman was upset because it was ruining her perfect record of no tickets in 40 years. The officer spoke as if from a scripted response sheet of talking points.

Finally, just one man and I were left wanting a hearing. Then the judge came in. Only she's not a judge, but a City Administrative Hearing Officer. She seemed warm enough, in a formal kind of way, as if she, too, were pre-programmed. When it came to my turn I told why I was on the street after midnight, returning home from doing grief counseling. The hearing officer told the police officer to look up the dates of the Emcore incident, and he apparently did an internet search on his laptop verifying that my violation was within a couple of weeks, but not the day following the incident. Therefore, I wasn't overcome by emotion because of the intensity of the event, she concluded. So, now she's doing mental health evaluations as well! I didn't say anything, but I thought it wouldn't have been in my favor to be driving if I were overwhelmed.

I pointed out that there were no other cars or people on the street at the time that the camera caught the alleged speeding, and therefore, it was unlikely that I would have caused an accident. I wasn't causing a nuisance or safety hazard of any kind. The police officer was in the role of prosecutor, and apparently had a close relationship to the "judge." He pointed out that there was no way of knowing that a pedestrian wouldn't suddenly dash out into the street. He went into his talking points again, regurgitating the general case of accident prevention and nuisance control being the reason for the law. The "judge" again asked me why I had mentioned where I was coming from and what I had been doing, trying to determine if there was another aspect of my thinking that I hadn't brought out. What I didn't think of saying at the time, but only after the hearing was over and I had walked out the door and onto the elevator, was that my intention was to throw myself on the mercy of the court.

As I was handed my paperwork, an order to pay the fine within 35 days, with payment instructions, I was told that if I desired, I could appeal the judge's ruling. On my way out the door, I turned to the third page of what I had been handed. Browsing down to statement number 2, I read: "THE FILING FEE OF $132 will NOT BE REFUNDED IF YOUR PETITION FOR WRIT OF CERTIORARE IS NOT GRANTED [sic]". So, this is where the Catch-22 comes in. You may appeal to District Court. Up until now, we've been operating within S.T.O.P. That stands for Safe Traffic Operations Program. However, it will cost you $132 even if you win, and if you don't, it will cost you that as well as the $75 fine. There is no way to come out ahead in this scenario. Why bother to appeal? Is this justice? The driver is warned , before paying a filing fee that it can be very helpful to discuss your rights and options with an attorney. In other words, if you haven't figured it out by yourself, your attorney will tell you, "Resistance if futile. You will be assimilated."

* * *

Ironically, the day after I wrote this, the contract for the "Photo-Stop" cameras expired, and they were turned off. A study made by the University of New Mexico showed that the cameras did not decrease the rate for accidents. However, after consideration by the mayor, as well as the city council, the contract for the cameras will be extended and they will be turned on again at the end of this week. However, they will not target speeders, only those who go through red lights.

"The Help"

2010-08-17T23:53:00.002-06:00

I wanted to tell you about the delicious novel that I just finished last night, one of those that kept me up reading late into the night. The title is "The Help," and it was on the Los Angeles Times best seller list for over a year. Interestingly,the novel is Kthryn Stockett's debut. It took her five years to complete the book, which was rejected by at least 45 literary agents. Just goes to show, you should never give up.

It takes place in Jackson, Mississippi in the early 60's, just as the U.S. is getting into the midst of the civil rights movement. It's told in rotating chapters through the eyes of a young white woman just graduated from Ole Miss and two Black women who work as maids in the houses of her friends. I thought that it would make an interesting movie, and then I saw in Wikipedia that it was scheduled to start filming in July. So, you'll get a chance to see it in that form, if you won't read the novel. It's not as dense as the "Girl With the Dragon Tatoo," so maybe it would be worth the effort. One of the things mentioned is that the Black women aren't allowed to withdraw books from the white folks' public library, only from the library for the colored.

J.A. Jance Presentation at the Main Library

2010-08-03T22:47:00.002-06:00

9:38 PM

Tonight I went downtown to the main library to attend a presentation by author J.A. Jance. My first thought when she walked out on the stage at the front of the auditorium was, I didn't know she was so big. She said later that she was sux feet tall by the time she reached 7th grade. And, she looked older that her photos on the bookjacket, but of course, that would be retouched. Looking over her bio on her website, I figured out that she's actually about 3-4 years younger than I am.She talked about her personal life, and how it got incorporated into her novels. I tried to record her remarks, but after taking a few photos and less than 15 minutes into her talk, my recorder ran out of memory! Usually, I usually carry an extra memory card and an extra battery, but tonight I traveled light. So, I'll have to remember as much of it as I can. If I forget anything, you probably can find it on her website, since I noticed that her bio contains much of the same information as her talk.

She talked about her first husband, who was an alcoholic who also fancied himself a writer, but in the style of F. Scott Fitzgerald or Ernest Hemingway, with a lot of drinking and little writing. She described an early experience of gender discriminaton when she tried to enroll in the creative writing program at the University of Arizona, only to be refused entrance by the professor, because women were teachers and nurses, not writers. Only men were writers. So she made the mistake of marrying a man who had been admitted to the creative writing program, but who never had anything published. When he was passed out in his recliner, she wrote poetry, and hid the scraps of paper in the strongbox, along with the birthcertificates and other important documents. She found them years later, after she had divorced him, after his death, when she went to look for those important documents of identification.

This was beginning to sound familiar. I was sure I had read it in one of her novels, and a short time later, she revealed that she had written it in Hour of the Hunter, a revised version of her first, unpublished novel, and she made the evil English professor who had refused her admission to the creative writing program into the villain, the serial killer. It was also interesting to know that the story was based on something that actually happened on the Tohono O’Odham reservation in 1970, that had touched her and her husband's lives. They found out that he had been given a ride home by the serial killer just 20 minutes after he had committed one of his murders, and later, that he was captured on July 20, just before he had planned to kill her and her husband on the 22nd, since he always committed his murders on the 22nd of the month. When she wrote all this in a fictionalized version and tried to submit it for publication, the editors who turned it down said that the parts that were real were totally unbelievable, and the parts that were fiction were fine. Eventually, after she had written nine J.P. Beaumont mysteries and wanted to move on to something else, she cut 600 pages out of the manuscript and it got published. Other of her experiences on the rez, working as the school librarian, are included in Kiss of the Bees, and I recognized them as she talked.

The reason she uses her initials instead of her name, Judith Ann, which is the way it's listed in the library catalog, is that editors didn't believe a woman could write police procedurals, so she had to disquise her gender. Even now, after she has her photo on the book jacket, there are some who are sure that they are written by a retired cop, and she's just fronting for him.

That's about all I remember, except that she said that when she heard Janis Ian's song, "Seventeen," she though that she and Janis were kindred spirits, because they had both been rejected by the popular kids when they were in school. Until she found out that Janis is 4'11", compared to her 6 feet, that Janis is a Democrat and she's a Republican, and a few other discordant details. However, she got to meet her at a recent writers' convention and now they are friends. Ms. Jance closed out her presentation, after one of her hearing aids ceased to function because of a dead battery, by singing that song, "Seventeen."

10:46 PM

An evening with Arlo Guthrie & Family

2010-04-04T13:25:00.002-06:00

I guess only one photo got uploaded. I'll try to upload the rest as an album on Facebook. In any case, the photos aren't very good--they're blurred because I took them from the mezzanine of the National Hispanic Cultural Center, Disney Theater, and couldn't use the flash. And, of course, they were moving. So the white blur is Arlo Guthrie and the other singers and musicians are his sons and daughters and grandchildren. It was a fun concert, except that after the encore song about going from individual peace to world peace, a man who had been sitting a few rows behind me, complained on the way out, that the flashing light (from when I took videos of the last few songs--I hope they come out better; if I upload them to youTube, I'll add it here) bothered him. He called me rude, but I certainly felt the effect ofhis anger as rude. I'm sure there was a nicer way to tell me about being careful about it in the future.

I was disappointed that Arlo didn't sing Alice's Restaurant. I did buy a CD of children's songs to give to my grandchild for his birthday in May, and then on impulse decided to buy a T-shirt, because I don't have a tie-dyed T. It's bright and colorful, good for a nice spring day like today.

Sunday, January 24, 2010

2010-01-24T14:43:00.005-07:00

I went for brunch to Manny's, and took my book Snow, for a time to read without distractions. I had huevos rancheros with a blue corn tortilla. It was accompanied by hash browns and whole beans and topped off with lettuce and a pale slice of tomato. My other choice of place had been Bandido's Hideaway;in fact the thought of going out for brunch today came to me when I was there for the Pena last night. Now I'll really have to go there for breakfast one day, to see if their huevos rancheros are better. The one thing that Manny has, however, is fresh-squeezed orange juice. It's a large glass and I couldn't finish it, so I asked for a cup with a lid to take the rest home. Before I left the restaurant, I noticed, on the wall above the cashier's head, a sign proclaiming that it's a Google Favorite Place. So you can find it if you want.

As I drove down Monte Vista on the way home, I did look at mountains. First, before I left the parking lot, I noticed that the sun was shining and the sky was blue. The storm clouds that had been here for the last 3 or 4 days had blown away, probably off to the east to bother other places more used to snow. Once on the street, I could see that there was still a small halo of clouds casting shadows on the mountain tops, but mostly I noticed the snow, sparkling white confectioners' sugar decoration. It was beautiful up there on the mountains, as long as it wasn't down here clogging the roads and blocking our sidewalks.

The book I mentioned reading, Snow, is by Orhan Pamuk, the Turkish 2006 Nobel Prize winner for literature. Starting from the first page, he describes events happening to the main character that take place during the fiercest snowstorm in the memory of the town of Kars. I never imagined so much snow in Turkey, since I had only been there in the month of June. Reading it during the heavily overcast days this past week, with moments of snow and hail, it was easy to imagine being in an environment so thoroughly wrapped in constant snow and darkness. Perhaps it's because I lived the first part of my life in a northern climate, where I experienced a few fierce snowstorms, that I was able to imagine the hero walking through the streets in the snow. I wonder what it's like for someone who has lived all their life where there is little or none.

The other book that I've been reading woven between the chapters of Snow, is Three Cups of Tea, by Greg Mortenson. Strangely, the first part of it is also about snow, but this time about the glaciers at the tops of mountains, as he makes his way down from an attempt to reach the summit of K2, in the Karakoram mountain range. It is an arid and inhospitable place but that is its beauty. The topography often consists entirely of glacier, bare rock and mountain peaks (thanks to Wikipedia). Mortenson, in case you don't recognize his name, is the one who established a foundation to build schools along the Pakistani/Afghanistani border. The villages where he build his schools are incredibly poor. The people may be hungry much of the time, but it is their hunger for learning that was most striking to him.

Lately I've been troubled by minutes of sleepiness, probably due to my medications.. If I close my eyes, I do start to fall asleep, and then I fall into a bit of a dream, a story about something. Just now, it was about a promise I had made to a friend about her unmarried daughter, purely fiction. Maybe I should collect these little bits and weave them into a story. But for now, I think I should just lie down for a nap.

RAINBOW ARTISTS CELEBRATES 20TH ANNIVERSARY IN JANUARY 2010

2010-01-01T18:06:00.004-07:00

Rainbow Artists at their November meeting at OFFCenter Community Arts: (left to right: Gloria Hajduk, Jacqueline Hertel, Janine Wilson, Judith Kidd (founding member), Lonni Ann Fredman (founding member), Shari Adkisson, Martha Heard, Ginger Quinn, Roberta Delgado, Grace Collins, Suzanne Visor, Thora Guinn (founding member), Joan Saks Berman).

RAINBOW ARTISTS CELEBRATES 20TH ANNIVERSARY IN JANUARY 2010

Rainbow Artists: A Women's Collective celebrates their 20th Anniversary with an exhibit of their work, "Celebration!", and a party with refreshments and music at downtown OFFCenter Community Arts, 808 Park Avenue SW, Albuquerque. The party will be on January 15, 2010 from 5 to 8:30 pm. Please come and help celebrate! The exhibit of painting, photography and other media will be on display from Tuesday, January 5 through Thursday, January 28. Call OFFCenter for hours, 505-247-1172

Rainbow Artists was formed in 1990 by a group of women gathered at the old South Broadway Cultural Center in Albuquerque. They met to express the difficulty women, especially women of color, had in exhibiting their artwork. Other artists' groups existing in Albuquerque at the time were not inclusive. The organization they formed is a multi-racial, multi-cultural, and multi-generational collective. The non-hierarchical format allows them to further their artistic endeavors, to encourage each other, to take on community projects, and to look for venues for group exhibitions.

During the past 20 years the members have shown in a variety of places in Albuquerque and other parts of New Mexico, from cafes and restaurants to public gallery spaces. Our exhibits have been seen in such places as the Kimo Theater Gallery, Arts Alliance, the Symphony Store, the Harwood Art Center, the National Hispanic Cultural Center (NHCC) and the South Broadway Cultural Center (SBCC). The group has put on art exhibits with varied themes including "Sister/Sister, Honoring Women of Color", "Tango", and "Endangered Species."

In 2000, The Pocket Project, a collaboration between Rainbow Artists and the New York group, Entitled: Black Women Artists, was exhibited at the South Broadway Cultural Center in Albuquerque. At the end of its run here, it was moved to the Skylight Gallery in New York City.

Rainbow Artists worked with young students in the community to produce "Through the Eyes of Babes" and completed an installation in Main Library’s children’s section. For the past several years we have had an altar for the Day of the Dead at the SBCC for which we won the award presented by the Mexican Counsel for best traditional ofrenda (altar). During the March Celebration of Women at the NHCC we exhibited in the lobby of the Journal Theater.

The Albuquerque community acknowledged the enriching experience of working with women of many cultures and various ages with an award from the New Mexico Arts Alliance, the 19th Annual BRAVO for Outstanding Arts Organization 2003, and from the Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Multicultural Council, Inc for the "Keep the Dream Alive 2003".

Currently, Rainbow is supporting Global Pathways, a group of refugee women from Africa and Asia, in their activities here in Albuquerque. We are also contributing financially and artistically to OFF Center. We now hold our meetings there on the second Monday of the month.

RAINBOW ARTISTS CELEBRATES 20TH ANNIVERSARY IN JANUARY 2010

2009-12-07T19:51:00.003-07:00

Rainbow Artists at their November meeting at OFFCenter Community Arts: (left to right: Gloria Hajduk, Jacqueline Hertel, Janine Wilson, Judith Kidd (founding member), Lonni Ann Fredman (founding member), Shari Adkisson, Martha Heard, Ginger Quinn, Roberta Delgado, Grace Collins, Suzanne Vizor, Thora Guinn (founding member), Joan Saks Berman).

RAINBOW ARTISTS CELEBRATES 20TH ANNIVERSARY IN JANUARY 2010

Rainbow Artists: A Women's Collective celebrates their 20th Anniversary with an exhibit of their work, "Celebration!", and a party with refreshments and music at downtown OFFCenter Community Arts, 808 Park Avenue SW, Albuquerque. The party will be on January 15, 2010 from 5 to 8:30 pm with music by guitarist Abel Lemus. Please come and help celebrate! The exhibit of painting, photography and other media will be on display from Tuesday, January 5 through Thursday, January 28. Call OFFCenter for hours, 505-247-1172

Rainbow Artists was formed in 1990 by a group of women gathered at the old South Broadway Cultural Center in Albuquerque. They met to express the difficulty women, especially women of color, had in exhibiting their artwork. Other artists' groups existing in Albuquerque at the time were not inclusive. The organization they formed is a multi-racial, multi-cultural, and multi-generational collective. The non-hierarchical format allows them to further their artistic endeavors, to encourage each other, to take on community projects, and to look for venues for group exhibitions.

During the past 20 years the members have shown in a variety of places in Albuquerque and other parts of New Mexico, from cafes and restaurants to public gallery spaces. Our exhibits have been seen in such places as the Kimo Theater Gallery, Arts Alliance, the Symphony Store, the Harwood Art Center, the National Hispanic Cultural Center (NHCC) and the South Broadway Cultural Center (SBCC). The group has put on art exhibits with varied themes including "Sister/Sister, Honoring Women of Color", "Tango", and "Endangered Species."

In 2000, The Pocket Project, a collaboration between Rainbow Artists and the New York group, Entitled: Black Women Artists, was exhibited at the South Broadway Cultural Center in Albuquerque. At the end of its run here, it was moved to the Skylight Gallery in New York City.

Rainbow Artists worked with young students in the community to produce "Through the Eyes of Babes" and completed an installation in Main Library’s children’s section. For the past several years we have had an altar for the Day of the Dead at the SBCC for which we won the award presented by the Mexican Counsel for best traditional ofrenda (altar). During the March Celebration of Women at the NHCC we exhibited in the lobby of the Journal Theater.

The Albuquerque community acknowledged the enriching experience of working with women of many cultures and various ages with an award from the New Mexico Arts Alliance, the 19th Annual BRAVO for Outstanding Arts Organization 2003, and from the Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Multicultural Council, Inc for the "Keep the Dream Alive 2003".

Currently, Rainbow is supporting Global Pathways, a group of refugee women from Africa and Asia, in their activities here in Albuquerque. We are also contributing financially and artistically to OFF Center. We now hold our meetings there on the second Monday of the month.

Israeli Women Resisters: Maya Wind and Netta Mishly - Human Rights Heroes at Home 2009 - Peace

2009-10-05T12:15:00.001-06:00

Israeli Women Resisters: Maya Wind and Netta Mishly - Human Rights Heroes at Home 2009 - Peace

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There are many worthy candidates for this prize, including Malalai Joya, the youngest member of the Afghan parliament who represents Farah province, who has been called "the most courageous woman in Afghanistan." Also Bruce Gagnon, Coordinator of the Global Network Against Weapons & Nuclear Power in Space, who appears here in ABQ periodically, and Amy Goodman of Democracy Now. Scroll through all the nominees. Only 5 hours and 54 minutes left to vote.

Help Bat Nha Monastery

2009-08-25T20:06:00.000-06:00

Help Bat Nha Monastery
From Thich Nhat Hanh
Today at 5:54pm
Nobel Peace Prize Nominee Thich Nhat Hanh’s Vietnam-based Bat Nha monastery is under severe economic, violent, and governmental pressure to abandon its premises by September 2. The cause: A statement supporting the Dalai Lama, and a letter of ten suggestions Thich Nhat Hanh provided to Vietnam President Nguyen Minh Triet, which included a call for religious freedom.

For that, their safety is threatened. They have had their electricity and water cut off for more than two months, their property vandalized, and have suffered innumerable verbal abuses and other forms of harassment. Since Thich Nhat Hanh’s return trip to Vietnam after nearly 40 years in exile in 2005, these 400 monks and nuns have been allowed to practice at Bat Nha.

The monastery has serves as a training and practice center in the tradition of Thich Nhat Hanh’s home monastery, Plum Village in France. Unfortunately, the government has withdrawn its permission for them to continue practicing for varying reasons. The monks and nuns just want a safe place to practice.

Here’s how you can make a difference…

1) Write your Senators, and ask them to take action now on behalf of the young monks and nuns of Bat Nha.
2) If you have a blog, please write about Bat Nha Monastery.
3) Share Thich Nhat Hanh’s Facebook fan page, and write on the wall about Bat Nha Monastery, asking people to write their Senators.
4) Tweet, ‘Please stop the violence against Thich Nhat Hanh’s Bat Nha monastery in Vietnam.” http://helpbatnha.org #batnha

Reproductive Decisions, Revisited

2009-08-16T00:46:00.006-06:00

(published in the August 14 issue of The New Mexico Breeze.)

From the front page article of the July 24 issue of The NM Breeze:
The U.S. federal government funds a significant proportion of Planned Parenthood's budget, much of which is used to reach and educate young girls and women … in this country regarding the abortion option. It is also used to fund abortions.

According to the 2008 Annual Report, forty percent of Planned Parenthood's budget is funded by contributions, patient fees, and commercial insurance for health related services. In addition, many fundraising events occur through the year across the country. While it's true Planned Parenthood offers abortion services and referrals, many other services are provided. Among them (listed on the website www.plannedparenthood.org) are birth control services, emergency contraception services, general health care, HIV testing services, hepatitis vaccines and HPV vaccine services, lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender (LGBT) services, men's health services, patient education, pregnancy testing and pregnancy services, sexually transmitted disease (STD) testing and treatment, and women's health services.

It seems to me the real issue here isn't about how our tax dollars are used. It's about whether those who oppose abortion, often for religious reasons, can impose their beliefs on all women, in our country which values the separation of church and state and includes that separation in the Constitution.

One of the slogans of the pro-choice movement is "Don't like abortion? Don't have one." It seems very much to the point of not dictating your beliefs to others.

It is our duty as citizens to pay for government services which are for the common good. I don't object to paying taxes for schools, even though I don't have children. I vote yes on bond issues that support public schools, as well as the police department, the fire department, and other public agencies. There was an opposition by conservatives against Social Security when it was first founded in 1935. Now Social Security has been so accepted that the concern is to save it when the funding is precarious. Tom Tomorrow, political cartoonist, put it this way: "If the Right doesn't want their tax dollars going to fund abortion because they disagree with it, does that mean the portion of my own taxes that has gone, or will go, to pay for the war in Iraq will be refunded? "

If every action taken with tax payer money required a vote of every citizen the government would never accomplish anything. At some point we need to relinquish our own sense of specialness enough to cooperate with an organized government that makes decisions and to stop ruminating over our wish to control each of these decisions.
Our government-funded public health services, which include the Veterans' Administration (VA) Medicare, Medicaid, and Indian Health Service (IHS) are aimed at insuring that even the elderly, the poor, and the disabled, as well as those who have served our country in the military, have some access to health care. These services should be available without discrimination as to race and sex. Nevertheless, such discrimination exists. Medicaid and federal employees' health insurance covers some of men's reproductive needs such as prescriptions for Viagra. The Hyde Amendment, however, that for decades has been attached to Congressional appropriations bills, prohibits payment when women need an abortion.

Native American women seem particularly singled out. A recent article by Michelle Chen in In These Times magazine stated,

When it comes to their health, American Indian women face extraordinary barriers—from high disease risks to increased incidents of sexual violence. They now face another obstacle, rooted in the political battleground of abortion.

The obstacle refers to a provision slipped into the Indian Health Care Improvement Act which restricts abortions under IHS programs. Vitter's initiative tightens the restrictions of the Hyde Amendment that already applied to the Act. It is seen by some as a race-based amendment, reducing Native American women's right to abortion more than any other race of women in this country. By treaty and law, the federal government is required to fund health services for Native Americans.

The reasons women give for having an abortion underscore their understanding of the responsibilities of parenthood and family life. Three-fourths of women cite concern for or responsibility to other individuals, e.g. other children or elderly parents; three-fourths say they cannot afford a child; three-fourths say that having a baby would interfere with work, school or the ability to care for dependents; and half say they do not want to be a single parent or are having problems with their husband or partner.

Nearly half of pregnancies among American women are unintended, and four in 10 of these are terminated by abortion. Fifty percent of U.S. women obtaining abortions are younger than 25, and 17% are teenagers. http://www.guttmacher.org/pubs/fb_induced_abortion.html"
Research shows that unwanted, unplanned children have more health problems and lower birth weights. They perform at a lower level in school. They are more likely to suffer depression and anxiety at an early age, and more likely to have recurring episodes over time. They are more like to use substances to manage the negative emotions that characterize their lives. They are more likely to need unemployment funds and they are more likely to end up in our prison system. In short, unwanted children are more of a burden on society than children who are wanted and who enjoy good nurturing at home.

My own experience with Planned Parenthood was many years ago, before abortion was legalized in the U.S. It was 1962. The birth control pill was a new contraceptive method. I was about to be married, and my mother sent me to Planned Parenthood to get a prescription for the pill. Since I was about to graduate from college, and my fiance and I planned to go on to graduate school after the wedding, it wasn't the right time for me to get pregnant, even though my mother wanted grandchildren.
For all women, regardless of race or ethnicity, reproductive justice for women cannot be separated from women's economic and social well-being. There are not two kinds of women - those who have abortions and those who have babies. Sixty percent of those having abortions are already mothers. Such women are making decisions in order for them to be able to work to support the children they already have.

The July 24 article states that the health care reform legislation promoted by the Obama administration "provides federal mandates for abortion in nearly all health plans…."

This is not true. Nothing in any of the current health care reform bills mandates abortion coverage -- or any other type of health care service -- in the Exchange. With a Public Option in health care reform, taxpayer money would not be used to pay for abortion. The public plan is a not government-funded health plan like Medicaid or Medicare. The public health insurance plan in the Exchange would operate like any private insurance plan would.

In a recent (August 3) article in The Huffington Post, Cecile Richards, President of Planned Parenthood, revealed that the Family Research Council doesn't want health care reform of any kind, and in order to misinform people in key Senate states, is now using the idea of expanding access to reproductive health care as their latest target. Raising the question of paying taxes to fund abortion in the so-called Public Option is one of the ways of perpetuating several myths to generate opposition to this much needed feature of reform. According to Richards, "The simple fact is that most women with private insurance in America already have access to full reproductive health care, and the vast majority of employment-based health plans treat abortion coverage like the rest of health care -- as a covered benefit… women shouldn't be worse off as a result of health care reform."

All this is simply a distraction. Why do so many political leaders, elected or otherwise, make such objections to availability of abortion, but do so little to support pregnant women, parents and families? I don't see them allocating tax money for these kinds of social and economic programs. America is one of only two industrialized nations in the world that does not require any paid maternity or parental leave. The United States is also one of the few industrialized nations that does not provide child or family allowances -- cash benefits given to families with children.

The July 24 article summarizes a scenario proposed by John Holdren in his book entitled Ecoscience, Population, Resources and the Environment (W.H. Freeman, 1977), in which the government dictates means of population limitation, including coercive, involuntary fertility control. The Peoples Republic of China attempted some of these measures in its one-child policy, because maintaining the rate of population growth was undesirable. It should be noted that until the present time, most countries including the United States, have adopted pro-natalist policies, i.e. economic and public health policies that encourage women to have babies. It's obvious, however, the ideas summarized in the article are intended to horrify the reader.

At the other end of the spectrum is the equally-horrifying novel by Margaret Atwood, The Handmaid's Tale (McClelland and Steward, 1985). Written shortly after the elections of Ronald Reagan in the United States and Margaret Thatcher in Great Britain, this book is one of the most powerful portrayals of the late 20th century of a totalitarian society. It is one of the few dystopian novels to examine in detail the intersection of politics, sexuality, and reproduction. In the novel’s nightmare world of Gilead, a group of conservative religious extremists has taken power and turned the sexual revolution on its head. Gilead is a society founded on a “return to traditional values” and gender roles, and on the subjugation of women by men. Widespread access to contraception and the legalization of abortion have been reversed, in a world undone by pollution and infertility. Fertile women are considered breeders and they become sex slaves incorporated into the traditional families of rich and powerful men.

Atwood's book proposes another kind of society in which there is no democratic rule of the majority. It is written from a feminist point of view and contrasts with the editor's position, which supposes that there are government mandates to private companies regarding the performance of abortions. Before you make up your mind about health care reform, do be sure you understand the real issues and the myths. The items discussed here are but a small part of it.

How to Survive a Kitchen Remodel

2009-06-27T16:03:00.001-06:00

This was published in the New Mexico Breeze, June 5,2009

HOW TO SURVIVE A KITCHEN REMODEL
By
Joan Saks Berman

This is a project that always takes a lot of planning. Of course, this depends on how extensive your remodel will be. Expect that you'll be without your kitchen for at least two months. This may also vary, depending on the nature and disposition of your contractor as well as how much work needs to be done. You may want to replace all the cabinets, counters, and appliances as well as the floor covering, or you may want only to replace the counter tops and the floor covering, and have the cabinets and walls painted. You should also decide well in advance whether the utility room will be done over at the same time. The cost, of course, will vary with how much will be done and the specific items chosen for replacement. The contractor may provide all the new materials and new equipment, or he may prefer that you go with him to his suppliers and pay for the counters and cabinets, for example, at the time of purchase. If some time has gone by since the cost estimate, be prepared for increased costs on materials.
It is important to get a written estimate of when the project will be finished. Some contractors are infamous for disappearing for various periods of time, in the middle of an unfinished job, when they take on additional jobs. (However, some particularly eccentric contractors are not willing to be pinned down.) It is also a good idea to get the labor costs in writing as well. Otherwise the contractor may say that he underestimated some costs, and needs several hundred more dollars, or that he needs to hire more helpers and must have more money to pay them. You will be vulnerable to contractor manipulations when your kitchen is torn apart and your house is in chaos. You'll want to do whatever it takes to get the job done and return your life to normal.
Set up an area in another room, for example the dining room, that will hold basic kitchen necessities. Use your buffet or a card table, but not the table you will use for eating. Your refrigerator will be moved into your dining room or family room and you will have to do without your automatic icemaker unless you have running water available. On the card table and/or buffet will go your toaster and/or toaster oven, microwave, electric coffeemaker, electric can-opener, coffee grinder, and whatever other electric appliances are indispensable for you . These may also include a hot plate, electric frying pan, and a crockpot or slow-cooker.
You'll also need some laundry detergent for trips to the laundromat if your washing machine will be disconnected and moved. When someone helps you pack up the kitchen, label each box so that you will know which box contains what when you have to put it away again. Before the workers arrive, you can prepare a box or drawer so you'll have what you need to use during your temporary displacement in a convenient place. Some items to consider are a few plates, cups, bowls, forks, knives, and spoons. In fact, if you can think of this as "camping" out and have camping equipment, you might want to use that. If you plan to use a hotplate or a camping stove, you'll need a saucepan and a skillet, a lid and a spatula, and maybe a teakettle. Of course, you'll need potholders
On the other hand, you may want to consider getting a supply of paper plates, cups, bowls, and disposable knives, forks and spoons. If that offends your environmental or gastronomic sensibilities, be prepared to wash what you use in the bathtub or bathroom sink, and put some dishwashing liquid there. Lots of paper towels, napkins, coffee filters and aluminum foil will be helpful. Some Ziploc bags will be useful, as all your Rubbermaid, Tupperware or Gladware will be packed up. (This is a good time, by the way, to recycle the empty bottles, jars, and bags that may have accumulated, if you're the kind of person who can't throw out anything which might be used again. Ground coffee or coffee beans and tea containers should be accessible. Keep some batteries handy in several sizes, because you might need them. And don't forget the garbage bags and recycle bags. If you are using disposables, you'll need them even more.
Your companion animals need to be considered, too, so don't forget to put their bowls in a convenient place, along with supplies of their food, treats, and toys. If you usually keep their leashes in the kitchen find a new place for them.
Depending on the layout of your house, you may want to protect your carpet from the dusty footprints of the workmen, and your own (if you'll be passing through the work area). Scraps and remnants of old carpeting or runners can be used, and be sure to keep your vacuum cleaner handy as well as a feather duster or a few dust cloths.
You might want to keep a bottle of wine handy to help smooth out the wrinkles of frustration and anxiety, so keep a corkscrew among your utensils. In any case, you'll need some bottled drinking water and/or soda.
Even with all this preparation, you'll probably want to eat out more than usual, so include this in your budget. You may also want to bring home prepared food from your favorite restaurant, fast food drive-thru, or supermarket. Think of the new salads available at Wendy's or Costco. Certainly this is a good time use microwavable frozen foods.
If you store boxes of dishes and other kitchen cabinet contents on the porch or patio, cover them with tarps as protection from wind and rain. And don't forget to tell neighbors if workmen will be going in and out when you're not home.
Now that you've read my simple suggestions, you may want to reconsider the whole project. A friend of mine was so traumatized after going through a kitchen remodel that she said she would rather move than do it again. Other people I know have avoided doing anything else to improve their homes after the nightmare of the kitchen remodel experience.

Cathryn McGill

2009-06-27T15:40:00.001-06:00

This was published in the New Mexico Breeze June 19, 2009

Cathryn McGill

If you attended the Women's Voices concerts presented by the New Mexico Jazz Workshop (NMJW) at the Albuquerque Museum on June 12 and 13, you would have seen and heard Cathryn McGill, with her braided hair, belting out her songs. She was the producer of those concerts and the Women's Voices concerts for the past five years, and has decided that now is the time to pass on the job to someone else. Every year the concert had a different concept, but it was always about creating a chemistry between the musical participants. This year it was especially about creating community. Both the audience and the musicians felt it. This has become a signature event for the NMJW, and attendance exceeded the break-even point, financially.

If you didn't see her at Women's Voices, you might have encountered Cathryn when she was an Albuquerque city government employee. She graduated in 1983 from the University of Southern California with a major in Public Administration, and came to Albuquerque the next year. She worked for the city in the Risk Management Department and Parks and Recreation. At the Convention Center she was in charge of entertainment events.

Later, Cathryn was Development Director (fundraising) at the Albuquerque Rape Crisis Center. She produced another New Mexico Diva concert, the SaVi Fair (Sisters Against Violence Initiative) as a benefit in 2004. A compilation CD featuring the Divas was sold at the concert.

During this time Cathryn was always acting and singing. She was president of the Vortex Theater. Then "actress who sang" became a vocalist—she hasn't done live theater in a while. Recently, she made a decision to quit her "day job," and make music primary in her life.

Cathryn released two CDs this year, performing a multi-media concert on April 10 to celebrate. The CDs, "From the Inside" and "I'm On My Way," were many years in the making, but her mother's death was the impetus for finally getting them out to the public. She wanted to honor her mother's legacy as well as her own art.

Cathryn grew up in Muskogee, Oklahoma, the fourth of five children. After her father left the family, her mother returned to school and became a teacher, so she would be able to raise her children as a single mother. During the time that mom was in school, the grandparents stepped in to take care of the kids.

The two influences that inspired Cathryn as she was growing up were the importance of education and spirituality. Her CD, "I'm On My Way," draws on this in order to be inspirational and express her philosophy of life. It's composed of songs that she sings in her appearances around the country at non-denominational New Thought churches, that is, churches that teach that if you change your thinking, you can change your life. She had been raised a Baptist, but found that she couldn't conform to the norms dealing with scripture because her performing often took her to bars and nightclubs. She feels that now she is a better Christian. In the Albuquerque Center for Spiritual Living she an completely be who she is. She traces every good experience back to being part of this church, which is a social group as well as a spiritual center.

"From The Inside" is a collection of songs she wrote about her life experiences, songs about relationships, both good and bad. One specifically honors her mother.

Cathryn has been working closely with guitarist Larry Mitchell, who won a Grammy in 2007 for his producing talents. But still she didn't finish her CDs. Then she met John Rangel, jazz pianist. They understood each other musically. John encouraged her do she could finish her CD. He posed the question about what would she want to do about music? Does she want to be the kind of musician she envisioned? John and Larry co-produced her second CD.

The CD was part of Cathryn's long range plan is to start traveling again with church appearances for her music ministry. She had booked dates for Seattle and Portland, so she needed a new product to go with her performances. That gave her a sense of urgency and a deadline. She goal is to combine music and motivational messages about a sense of personal responsibility. As she explains her philosophy, she readily quotes from John Milton, Eleanor Roosevelt, and the Bible. She hopes to be able to counter the message that we get from mainstream media that everything is horrible with the message that we still have everything we need, and incorporated that thought into a song she wrote with Stu McAskie, pianist.

Before concluding the interview, I asked Cathryn if there was anything special in her home that she'd like to show me. She walked over to the piano and took up a worn LP record album by Harry Belafonte, proudly showing me the inscription and autograph he wrote for her. She had spent an afternoon with him a few years ago, interviewing him for the Perspective. She thinks of him as her ideal man, describing him as sexy, a social activist, spiritual, intelligent, talented, drop-dead gorgeous even in his golden years, and rich, using his money to help others.

I knew that Cathryn has pages on Facebook and MySpace, so I asked her what her thoughts were about these forms of social media. She's very much in favor of them because of the immediacy of communication, speaking of viral marketing and guerilla marketing, that is, a free form of marketing useful for when you don't have a lot of money. It's based on who you know. She uses Facebook to let people know where she's performing. Again quoting the Bible, "Wherever two or three are gathered, I will be in their midst," she said that Facebook is a place where there are six degrees of separation between people.

Cathryn can be seen performing with some of the New Mexico musicians at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8-lFMZNWCHc. Another video is at www.youtube.com/watch?v=FhLzAExxCu8. The same videos, plus some song tracks, can be found on her MySpace page, http://www.myspace.com/cathrynmcgill.

Cathryn's New Mexico appearances this summer include Taos Plaza July 2, NMJW's Jazz Under the Stars at the Albuquerque Museum on July 18 (with Larry Mitchell on guitar), the New Mexico Jazz Festival in Old Town on July 24, and Santa Fe Stages on August 3. In September, she'll be singing at the Aid and Comfort Gala to benefit AIDS services. She'll also be performing at private parties. Appearances in Seattle and Los Angeles are also planned this summer.

Joan is a freelance writer as well as a prize-winning photographer, and has a degree in
psychology, with a private psychotherapy practice. Her writing includes professional
publications, memoir, and essays. She has an idea for a novel, that she is just starting. She volunteers with the New Mexico Jazz Workshop, which allows her to see concerts for free.

A Visit with Patty Stephens

2009-06-27T12:19:00.002-06:00

This was published in the New Mexico Breeze on June 12, 2009.

A Visit with Patty Stephens

By Joan Saks Berman

On Friday, June 12 and Saturday, June 13, the New Mexico Jazz Workshop will present the annual Women's Voices concerts. Women's Voices, a festival which began in 1993, continues as an annual tribute to the outstanding women vocalists in New Mexico. The concerts are at the Albuquerque Museum Amphitheater. One of the performers on both days is Patty Stephens. She's been part of the festival for 6 or 7 years.

I interviewed Patty Stephens in her home in the North Valley, near Los Duranes School. She had just returned from the High Desert Center for Spiritual Living (formerly High Desert Church of Religious Science), church on the West Side where she is music director and sings with the gospel choir on Sundays. She's been a member there for 27 years. She said that she likes the church because it honors diversity and works to make the world a place worth living in. In her role there, she tries to unite and develop the community.

As we sat at the kitchen table sipping iced tea, I looked around admiring the eclectic décor and her collection of interesting odds and ends filling the built-in hutch on one wall. Outside the back door was a garden of corn and four kinds of squash, and a hammock strung between two old cottonwoods.

Patty Stephens was born into singing. Her mother was a musician and a dancer. It was a large family, eight girls and three boys, and there was always singing into the home. Patty never took lessons; she must have inherited her beautiful voice. Some families talk about having enough members to form a baseball team. Patty said that in her family, there were always enough to create a play, and they put on a series based on Greek tragedies.

The family lived as a lay family at the Holy Cross Abbey in Cañon City, Colorado. She recalled that her first stage performance was around three years old and it revolved around Catholic ritual.

In high school, Patty sang in the choir and joined a rock and roll band. Later, she toured with the Abbey Glee Club. She had a group named Double Entendre with her sister Teresa, singing jazz, blues and country music as they toured around Colorado. In her late teens and early 20's she worked as a farm worker, and learned mariachi music from her Mexican co-workers. In the early '70's she lived in Cuernavaca, Mexico, teaching theater and learning Spanish.

In 1985, Patty moved to Albuquerque with her husband and her son Gabriel, determined to devote her time to nothing but music and theater. Only one of her sisters, Wendy Fabian, an artist, lives here. Patty broke into the local scene by singing in jams at El Madrid when that bar was a center of local music. Then she found the First Church of Religious Science (now called the
Albuquerque Center for Spiritual Living, located on Louisiana). She started singing at services every Sunday, and began to meet other musicians and make connections for getting jobs, such as singing in the lounge at the Hyatt Hotel. She has sung in such places as Café Miche and at the Mykonos Restaurant.

Admiring her voice, aspiring singers started asking Patty to give them singing lessons. She had to figure out how to teach, since she had never taken lessons herself. Now, teaching is her greatest passion. It's fulfilling on a deeper level than performing. The singing lessons she gives become a means of personal empowerment for her students. Working with the breath often leads to an unexpected release of trauma.

Patty teaches private lessons and also through the education program of the New Mexico Jazz Workshop. She is especially enthusiastic about her work with Music Together®, a research-based international program for families, designed to enhance children's acquisition of basic musical competence, based on the belief that all children are musical. It's not about performing but about integrating movement and music into family activity, and is aimed at children from birth to six years old. The FamJam events bring the community in.

Patty's current work includes the Brazil Project, with pianist Bert Dalton, percussionist Frank Leto, drummer John Bartlit, and Milo Jaramillo on bass. She feels more rapport with this group than she has with other bands. She's learning Portuguese for the songs. Upcoming performances for the group include Zinc on June 20. They will be at the New Mexico Jazz Festival at 6:40pm on July 18, in an auxiliary tent near Civic Plaza. Later that evening, at 8p.m. they will be at Seasons upstairs deck.

In her "free" time, Patty loves to garden and cook. Her friends are fellow singers, who often gather to sing mariachi songs together in her backyard.

Patty's website is under construction, but you can find out more about Music Together® at www.famjam.net.

Macbeth, it's not

2009-06-04T22:50:00.002-06:00

I went to see the latest (earliest) Star Trek movie tonight. Briefly, it has way too much testosterone, as manifested in noise and things crashing and falling apart, way too little logic, and no social message, as in the Gene Roddenberry tradition. As Shakespeare said, "It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing."

A Christmastime memory

2008-12-25T11:27:00.001-07:00

Once upon a time, a long time ago, long before VCR's were invented, even before television sets were found in every home (it may have been invented, but wasn't commercially available), my father devised his own family entertainment. He owned both eight and 16 millimeter movie projectors. From time to time he would rent a newsreel and a bunch of cartoons, and set up a theater in our basement. He set the silvered screen in the front, and pulled it up like a windowshade, hooking it at the top of the extended pole for that purpose. The folding chairs were set in rows, and corn was popped in the kitchen upstairs, in a pot with a rotating lever in the cover that stirred the corn to keep it from burning. The neighbors, especially the kids, poured in and took their places, the lights were extinguished, and the whirring of the projector began.

At Christmastime, the featured movie was a black and white enactment, before computerized animation (for that matter before most of us had ever heard of computers) of " 'Twas the night before Christmas." We delighted in the poetry, and in seeing the sugar plums dancing in their heads, and the jolly old Santa with his reindeer on the roof. The movie was played over and over, and every year, and before long I could recite the poem from memory, like a chorus with the narrator of the movie.

So, even though this Jewish family didn't officially celebrate Christmas, we soaked in the holiday atmosphere. Maybe it didn't start as early as the day after Halloween, but Christmas was everywhere in the stores and on the air waves. A favorite of the season was the serial story, "The Cinnamon Bear," broadcast for 15 minutes every day, around 5p.m. And Santa didn't pass over our house. We didn't have a fireplace, so my sister and I hung our stockings (the longest ones we could find) from the doors of the "entertainment center," a Stromberg-Carlson console with an am-fm radio and a phonograph inside. We would hang the stocking over the dark wood door and then close it, so that it fit snuggly but was still open waiting for the treats. We would wake up on Christmas morning with oranges and various kinds of candy bulging in the fabric, and toys piled on the floor. I never wondered how Santa got in, even without a chimney to slide down.

Our extended family had our own tradition for celebrating Chanukah. All the aunts, uncles, and cousins would gather at one of our houses, rotating each year, along with Grandpa Jacob and Grandma Sarah. At the appropriate time, all the cousins would gather eagerly in a large space in front of Grandpa and he would throw a handful of coins, nickels, dimes and quarters, into the air. Then all of us cousins would scramble for them as they fell to the ground and rolled to the corners. Grandpa repeated this several times, until his rolls of coins were gone. Because my sister and I were the two smallest, and easily pushed out of the way by our eager older cousins, he would slip us a little extra to make up for our losses. Then we would all adjourn to the dining room for potato latkes, topped with applesauce or sugar.

This Week at Bookworks

2008-12-13T10:27:00.005-07:00

This past week I went to three events at Bookworks, one of Albuquerque's remaining independent bookstores. The first was at 11:00 a.m. last Sunday--I don't usually go there on Sunday morning. It was Valerie Raleigh Yow speaking. She's the author of a biography of Betty Smith, who herself was the author of A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. I remember reading the book when I was a teenager, maybe younger, and loving it, as well as the movie in black and white. I still have some of those images in my mind. The film came out in 1945, when I was four years old, so I must have seen it later on television. It was the first directorial effort of Elia Kazan, and starred Dorothy McGuire, Joan Blondell, Peggy Ann Garner as the young protagonist, and James Dunn. As for Betty Smith, I never knew she wrote anything by A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, but she wrote three other novels, none as successful, and many plays. She's one of those women who was creative and prolific and well-known in her time, but has been moved to the backrooms of obscurity, so no one knows her name when some sexist asks, why have there never been any great women writers, or playwrights?

The next event at Bookworks was on Tuesday evening, a celebration of Tony Hillerman. About a half dozen writers who had been close friends of Hillerman's told anecdotes about their friendship with him. Included were Jim Belshaw, columnist at the Albuquerque Journal, Max Evans, Judith Van Giesen, a local mystery novelist, and Luther Wilson, director of the UNM Press. Several of them were weekly poker buddies of Hillerman. The event was videotaped (is that still the word to use when it's actually digital?) and will be put on the Bookworks website eventually, but it's not there yet.

Then, skipping over Wednesday because I wasn't interested in that event, and besides I had a party to go to at Pingo Studio and Gallery, on Thursday it was Luci Tapahonso reading her poetry. I always love to hear her, because she reads with such humor, and I recorded the talk on my little digital recorder. However, afterward I bought her latest book, A Radiant Curve (University of Arizona Press, $35 hardback, $17.95 paperback) and discovered that she has included, at the back of the book, a CD of her reading a selection of her poems, not just from the new book. So, that will be a delight to listen to. I have a recording of an earlier talk, about two-and-a-half years ago, she gave at the University of New Mexico, when I bought some other of her recent books. Sad to say, although I greatly enjoyed hearing her read them, I haven't read through all the books yet myself. I did give one as a gift when I went to France that year.

The Adventures of Las Tres Locas (The Three Crazy Ladies)

2008-12-03T10:51:00.002-07:00

Part 2 of What I did this summer (this post is limited by the word restrictions of the contest I entered):

The conference was over. Now it was time to play. We had made arrangements for a self-guided tour, with car rental and hotel reservations in the cities of our choice. We were to start from Madrid and head for Leon. Our itinerary included the prehistoric Altamira caves near Santillana del Mar, the famous Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao, and the international water expo in Zaragoza. Then Judith and Susan would drive back to Madrid to return to the United States and I would continue by train to see Barcelona before flying home first class.

We could have ordered a GPS (Global Positioning System) with the rental car, for more than $191 extra. We declined it; it was too much for such a short time. Besides, we had driving instructions from Google Maps. Later I wondered if the reduced stress and frustration might have been worth the extra cost, that is, if it could be set to speak English.

We arrived in Leon without much trouble, but then we had to find our hotel, and it was difficult to follow the Google directions. We headed to the Plaza Mayor. We could see the spires of the Cathedral, which it was near, but were soon running afoul of narrow winding one-way streets and driving in circles. Finally, we made a cell phone call to the hotel, and were told to park in the garage under the Plaza Mayor and take the elevator up to the Plaza level. Vehicles were prohibited from driving on the Plaza except for delivery trucks in the early morning. There, at the front desk was a packet of maps and driving directions sent by the Spanish travel agency.

Even with maps, we continued to get lost on the way to every city on our itinerary, each time adding about an hour to our travel time. En route to Santillana del Mar, we were to leave the highway at an exit that wasn't there. We made U-turns at toll booths to retrace our steps. The day we toured the caves, we ignored the part of the directions which said they were a 30-minute drive from our hotel, and then got lost when the signs ran out. In Bilbao, I was navigating, but failed to check the map for which fork to take when the road split to go around a large convention center. In the hills above the city, we repeatedly had to ask directions, usually in Spanish, to our hotel. In Zaragoza, we circled around on one-way streets at rush hour until we could cross the river to our hotel.

In the long run, I wondered, could we have saved the money we paid for comprehensive insurance and put it to better use for a GPS? If only we had been able to find a guided tour that matched our choice of dates and destinations.

What I did this summer

2008-12-03T09:42:00.004-07:00

I never got back to writing about my trip to Spain in July. Then came the SouthWest Writers monthly context in September, so I wrote this, and hung on to it until now. I was notified yesterday that I received an honorable mention for my submission, so I publish it here, now. Part 2, also submitted will follow in a separate post.

What I did this summer

In July, I traveled to Madrid, Spain for Women's Worlds 2008, an international, interdisciplinary conference that was held at the Universidad Complutense. The conference was divided into 13 themes or tracks and I spent much of my time attending presentations in the Human Rights theme. Among the most eye-opening were several panels on the "Coerced Sterilisation of Romani (Gypsy) Women." Lawyers and women victims of this policy in Hungary and the Czech Republic reported on the social exclusion and discrimination against Romani women and on coercive sterilization as a violation of basic human rights.
The personal stories of the women who were coerced or deceived into signing consent forms were heart-wrenching. I remembered similar abuses that had gone on in the United States in the 1970's directed against Native American and other poor and minority women, and the efforts of reproductive rights groups to prohibit such practices. It was like time-travel, taking a step back into the past. In one example discussed on the panel, a woman was taken by ambulance to a hospital following a miscarriage and sterilized during the caesarian section which followed. On the operating table in a state of shock due to the loss of her child, she was given a consent form to sign for the caesarian, to which the doctor had added by hand a statement that the patient requested the sterilization. It was all accomplished in 17 minutes. Ms. A.S. didn't even know the meaning of the word, and didn't know what had been done to her until she asked the doctor when she could try to have another baby.
In another example, a 22-year-old pregnant woman continually resisted signing the consent form, in spite of being threatened by a social worker that her child would be taken away from her, and that she would have to pay for all of her medical treatment for the pregnancy. Finally, the authorities called in her mother to sign the papers, disregarding the fact the woman was an adult.
The conference happens every three years in a different country and on different continents, and draws women from a wide variety of countries. Papers, panels and workshops were presented under the themes of Economics, Feminisms and Social Movements, History, Political and Legal Action, Sexuality, Human Rights, Territories and Environment, Communication and the Media, Science and Technology, and Culture, Creativity and Art. Dislocations and Frontiers included Trafficking of People, Inter-culturality, and War/ Conflict. In addition, cultural events such as movies and concerts are presented.
The most interesting and exciting part of the conference is meeting women from different countries around the world, and hearing about the program and projects that they work in, to improve the lives of women. This year, I befriended two women from Brasilia, and later spent time with them in Barcelona.
At the end of the conference, I took off for an adventure with two friends, touring the north of Spain by car.

Knowingly Killing an Innocent Man

2008-11-22T12:25:00.002-07:00

This is from David Swanson's blog. There is also a video there: http://www.democrats.com/node/18022.
If you are in Albuquerque, there is still time this weekend to see the play, "The Exhonerated," at The Filling Station on 4th Street SW. It deals with 6 other cases of the judicial system being corrupted, sending people to death row. Although the six were saved from the death penalty, it came too late for the husband of one of them, who was executed.

Knowingly Killing an Innocent Man
Submitted by davidswanson on October 15, 2008 - 11:09am.

The U.S. Supreme Court has refused to halt the execution of an innocent man. That doesn't mean the struggle to save him is over. For next steps go to: http://freetroydavis.com

Deirdre O’Connor, an attorney licensed in California and Georgia, is the director of Innocence Matters. She wrote an amicus brief in support of Troy Davis's Petition for Certiorari. She explains the case thus:

“They’re either lying now or they were lying then” is a logical reaction to any recantation; indeed, an unassailable one. However, as illustrated in the multiple recantation case of Troy Davis pending before the U.S. Supreme Court, determining which version represents the truth cannot be addressed, let alone reliably resolved, absent a new trial.

It is not the function of the Chatham County trial judge, the Georgia Supreme Court, the Georgia Board of Pardons and Paroles, or the U.S. Supreme Court to make that determination. Our justice system reserves that job for twelve impartial jurors. Rather, the court’s role, when presented with seven recantations (and other evidence of innocence), is limited to this question: Is the new evidence reliable enough to undermine our confidence in the guilty verdict?

The court can, and should, consider the reliability of the trial evidence as part of its assessment. If the evidence received at trial is determined to be irrefutable proof of guilt, then the recantations do little to undermine the verdict. If, however, the evidence used to convict Mr. Davis is reasonably called into question, then a new trial must be granted.

If the U.S. Supreme Court were to examine the reliability of the five stranger eyewitness identifications – Dorothy Ferrell, Stephen Sanders, Antione Williams, Larry Young, and Harriet Murray – it would find ample reason to doubt Mr. Davis’ guilt.

Decades of scientific studies confirm that distance, lighting, duration of crime, weapon-focus, other race effect, etc. can impede ability to encode sufficient detail to make an accurate identification later. Moreover, a witness’ memory of the assailant’s face is malleable. Even unintentional suggestions – let alone the overt pressure alleged here – can contaminate memory and lead the witness to confidently identify the wrong person. In the absence of expert testimony explaining that there is no significant correlation between accuracy and confidence, jurors typically put great weight on eyewitness certainty. Davis’ trial attorneys did not call an expert; the jurors were instructed they could consider certainty when judging the reliability of these identifications. Dorothy Ferrell was standing at least 160 feet away from the scene. It is impossible to observe sufficient facial detail at that distance. What explains her selection of Davis? The detectives showed Ferrell a single photo of Davis prior to the official identification and told her that he was the shooter. When later asked if she recognized the shooter from a group of five photos, she selected the photo previously shown to her. What about the witnesses in the dimly-lit parking lot? What did the witnesses in the line of fire observe in the few seconds that transpired from Sylvester “Redd” Coles’ threat to shoot Larry Young to the shooting death of Officer MacPhail?

Stephen Sanders – one of eight passengers in a van ordering food at the drive-thru window after a night of drinking – was unable to identify the shooter that night. A month later, Sanders still could not identify the shooter. Neither could any of his companions. Yet, two years later, Sanders identified Troy Davis at trial. Memory does not improve over time.

Antione Williams saw an armed man arguing with Larry Young as the two faced off. Williams saw that same man pistol-whip Young and shoot Officer MacPhail. (Redd testified that he was the only one hassling Young. Redd conceded, as did the other witnesses, that Troy Davis never said a word to Young.) Over the next ten days, Williams viewed the wanted poster prominently displayed at his place of employment, with the same photo of Davis shown Ferrell and used in the photo array. After repeated exposure, Williams was 60% sure that Davis was the shooter. Harriet Murray was in the parking lot waiting for Young to return. She saw one man (later identified as Redd) hassling Young for his beer as he walked back to the lot. She heard that man threaten Young, “You don’t know me. I’ll shoot you.” (Redd admitted that he – and only he - made this threat.) She saw that man pull a gun out of his waistband. At that point, she ran for cover.

Larry Young told the police, as he bled from his untreated head injury, that he was not sure who hit him because “everything happened so fast.” Do we have any reason to feel confident that these eyewitnesses were accurately identifying Officer MacPhail’s killer? It is not even a close question. Justice and our commitment to protect the innocent require that Mr. Davis be given a new trial.

Amanda Cross novel

2008-11-22T11:23:00.000-07:00

I recently started reading "The Players Come Again" by Amanda Cross, a.k.a. Carolyn Heilbrun. I had a copy of the book sitting on a stack ever since the Birdsong Bookstore had a fire many years ago, when I bought a shopping bag fill of mystery and science fiction books in the fire sale. I was interested to find out that there is an online study guide for the book (available for a price). The novel contains within its story a fictional book and fictional author. Looking up Heilbrun in Wikipedia, I was dismayed to find that she committed suicide in 2003 because she felt that her life had been completed.

The Beginning of the Journey

2008-10-13T15:01:00.003-06:00

I'm working on an idea for a novel, based on the Mapa de Cuauhtinchan No. 2 (MC2). Here is the upper left corner of the image:

The Tepilhuan Chichimecs led by Itzpapalotl are about to exit the mother cave, the sacred womb, of the Chicomoztoc to begin their migration to the Great Tollan (Cholula). Itzpapalotl (Obsidian Butterful), like the goddes Chimalman (lady Sheild), was an autochthonous woman warrior who both led and protected warriors in battle.

Free Movies coming up

2008-10-11T11:14:00.002-06:00

One of the movies I brought back from my trip to Venezuela last spring, "5 factories," will be shown at the Peace Center in the People Before Profit Film Series on Thursday, October 16 at 7pm.

The film documents the experiences of workers' participation and control in five different factories in Venezuela: the aluminum smelter at Alcasa, the tomato processing plant in Caigua, a chocolate factory, a textile cooperative in Tachira, and the paper mill in Carabobo, Invepal. The workers themselves explain their experiences, struggles and aspirations. Machine operator Carmen Ortiz expresses their common perception that "Working collectively is much better than working for someone else--working for someone else islike being a slave to someone."

Rainbow Artists is sponsoring a free screening of "Iron-Jawed Angels" at the Guild Cinema on Saturday afternoon, Oct. 25, at 1 pm. Please join us at the Guild, 3405 Central NE, Albuquerque to recognize the long struggle which was brought to a successful
end by the young women who finally brought women the right to vote.

Rainbow Artists is the women's art organization which encourages women to pursue all
expressions of creativity. Meetings are monthly and open to newcomers. 505-842-6196

Globalquerque! 2008

2008-09-25T12:28:00.005-06:00

I was glad that I pre-paid for my tickets, to get a good discount, as many as three months before the event, on September 19 & 20. It was something of a struggle for me to get there, because of my sore knee and aching back, because of the incredibly poor design of the National Hispanic Cultural Center. Usually, I park in the back ("authorized personnel only"), closer to the theater building, in a handicapped parking space, but I thought that wouldn't work this time, because the ticket booth was at the opposite end, near the larger north parking lot. I just assumed that, didn't even check it out. Maybe it was possible to sneak in my usual way. Next year I'll look at it, or ask David, my friend in the box office. However, he didn't offer that when I complained about how far it was to walk, and that there were no people-moving carts to go the distance. His reason was that they were being sued by someone who fell off, because they tried getting off before the vehicle was stopped.

Among all the wonderful musical acts during the festival, one of the most appreciated was Mor Karbasi, from Israel. I saw her on Friday night, in the Fountain Courtyard, where the audience put up with a light rain in order to hear her sing. She's an attractive young woman who was wearing a black lace and satin dress in a traditional style, with bright red high-heeled shoes which she stomped on the stage every once in a while, in the flamenco tradition. Her very long dark wavy hair, cascading down her back, was also an attractive feature.

Ms. Karbasi has a beautiful singing voice (the program described it as stunning). She is descended from both Moroccan and Persian Jews. She sings both traditional Sephardic and more modern songs. I notice in the program that it says "Sephardic Musical Traditions" under Saturday. I don't know if that means I actually missed a different kind of program by only going on Friday night, or if it was a printing mitake. In any case, I saw a lot of Jewish acquaintances at the performance I attended, interested in the historic Ladino music.

Another exciting group was Lo Cor de La Plana from France. The program describes them as a "gritty French ensemble that combine [sic] a cappella singing with stomping, clapping and a variety of hand drums." The group sings in the little-known ancient language Occitan (I never heard of it before), so I couldn't understand any of the words. The leader of the group explained many of them before they sang them.Some of them were folk-song like stories, but they also sing a traditional repertoire usually confined to churches and religious ceremonies. The percussive instruments they use include the North African bendir and the Italian tamburello, as well as clapping on their legs and two of them mostly stomped their feet while seated on a wooden platform. The audience was very enthusiastic. The auditorium was filled to standing room only and the group was called back for several encores.

Back from Spain at last

2008-07-20T11:32:00.002-06:00

This is just a brief update,not the tell all about my trip. I'm trying to decide whether to call it "Lost in Spain," or "Las aventuras de las tres locas." What do you like? I still have to take my slides in to be processed, and to upload those images I took with my digital camera, and I'm doing laundry right now. However, I plan to go to a movie this afternoon, and after that, the jet lag might zap me again, so we'll see how long it all takes. I left home on July 1, landed in Madrid. That's where I attended the Women's Worlds '08, and international, interdisciplinary congress on women, until July 8. Then Judith Lorber, Susan Farrell, and I rented a car from Avis and took off to explore northern Spain. As soon as the cobwebs clear from my brain, I'll try to write down some of our adventures, and my impressions, at least as much as I can remember. I didn't write anything in my journal the whole time, at least after the first attempt on my way there, so it will depend on my photos to job my memory.

Let me just say from the beginning, if you rent a car in a foreign country, take the GPS along with you, even it it's expensive to rent. Make sure it's in your own language, not the language of the country. It might not turn out to be better than Mapquest or Google maps or Yahoo maps, but then again it might. And at least it woud provide an alternate point of view. Reading the map doesn't always give you all the information you need, like which streets are one way, etc.

Looking forward to sharing all this with you. but I will be going out of town again on Friday through Monday. I might have time to write while I'm taking the train to L.A., but it will be by hand, since I won't be carrying a laptop

Mindfulness On Eating A Hot Dog From Costco

2008-06-09T20:58:00.001-06:00

Carefully add to the bun the white chopped onions
Sauerkraut
Deli mustard
A squiggle of relish
Re-wrap the creation until arriving at your car.
Slowly peel back the tinfoil at one end,
Holding the package tightly so as to not drip
Or lose one precious morsel.
Take a bite.
Savor the melange of flavors,
Mixed with the texture of the slightly spiced sausage
The soft white bun
The squishy and crunchy condiments
All meeting in your mouth
A feeling of satisfaction as you chew
And then it's finished, gone,
Only the delicious memory survives.

"Body of War"

2008-05-30T09:00:00.003-06:00

Body of War is the film that played in Albuquerque's Guild Theater over Memorial Day weekend, and I saw it on Tuesday evening when Phil Donahue, the film's co-director and producer was at the theater to talk about it after the showing. The 6:30pm show was sold out, and we had to wait in line for a half hour until the previous show audience was cleared out and the doors were opened to us. Those who hadn't come early to buy advance tickets got in line on the other side of the sidewalk to buy tickets to the 9pm show, the last one for this engagement. Phil Donahue was held over for that group as well, although the 6:30 show was advertised as his only appearance. This was a very successful event for the small independent theater which often runs in the red.

I want to urge everyone to see the movie when it is available to you. It will eventually be available from Netflix, but DVDs are not yet available. There is a website. Here is the synopsis of the film from that source:

Body of War is an intimate and transformational feature documentary about the true face of war today. Meet Tomas Young, 25 years old, paralyzed from a bullet to his spine - wounded after serving in Iraq for less than a week.

Body of War is Tomas' coming home story as he evolves into a new person, coming to terms with his disability and finding his own unique and passionate voice against the war. The film is produced and directed by Phil Donahue and Ellen Spiro, and features two original songs by Eddie Vedder. Body of War is a naked and honest portrayal of what it's like inside the body, heart and soul of this extraordinary and heroic young man.

Body of War unfolds on two parallel tracks. On the one hand, we see Tomas evolving into a powerful voice against the war as he struggles to deal with the complexities of a paralyzed body. And on the other, we see the historic debate unfolding in the Congress about going to war in Iraq.

The film opens as Tomas and his fiance Brie prepare for their wedding. However, because of his disability, we see how the simple everyday activities for Tomas are involved and challenging. War is personal and the film takes us into the skin and bones of what it means to have no control over basic bodily functions. In many remarkable scenes, we directly experience how vulnerable and open Tomas is as he interacts with his wife, family, and friends.

There is also a film trailer and a list of theaters across the country where it is scheduled to be shown. Efforts are being made for it to be shown on college campuses as well.

Excerpts of Body of War were shown on Bill Moyers' Journal on March 21, but somehow I missed it. I may have been distracted by getting ready to leave on my trip to Venezuela the following Monday. It is available online (click here) if you want to see the interview with Donahue and his co-director, cinematographer Ellen Spiro.

Donohue announced on Tuesday that Tomas, after complaining of numbness in his arm, and receiving another pill from the VA, had slipped into a coma. He is now slightly improved, responding to blinks and hand pressure, and his mother is optimistic. There is also a possibility of a suit against the VA.

Life Imitates Art

2008-05-10T11:51:00.007-06:00

I'm motivated to write a blog post because I've just read two mystery novels, actually three, written by J.A. Jance, where blogging has been a central part of the story. The books are Edge of Evil, Web of Evil, and Hand of Evil. And, I took a blog workshop at SWW on May 1st, in which I was told I should write at least once a seek and I haven't done that. I also haven't read through all the materials that I got as handouts at the workshop. Put it on my to-do list.

Another point that was made in the workshop was to not direct readers away from the page. Until now, I've put my videos up on You Tube, and directed readers there to see them. I was told by my first blog guru that it was better to do it that way, because inserting videos on my blog would slow down the loading time. So we have two positions on this. I might try putting the next one in a post, but I recall having trouble with that. The more I get involved in technology, the more time I have to spend learning how to do it. If you have any ideas on the pros and cons, let me know.

What I was inspired to write about was my trip to Mountainair and back on Tuesday. I went on a Critical Incident counseling call for Magellan EAP to facilitate a group of employees who have been working in the forest fires in the Manzano Mountains since mid-April. The meeting went well, and several of the participants thanked me for coming out afterwards.

Before returning to Albuquerque, I stopped for lunch at the Alpine Alley Café, a new coffee shop that opened up there since my last visit about this time last year. It had been recommended to me by several of the participants in the group. The daily special was a Miss Ruby Tuesday Rueben sandwich, and I had a half sandwich along with a bowl of Asiago cheese soup. The food was good, and I was sorry that I had ordered only a half sandwich. The ranger was there along with her husband and a co-worker, so I sat down at their table. They left to go back to work before I got my food, but that was okay since I had my mystery novel with me.

As I was getting ready to leave, I stopped at a table where Pamela, the owner of Gypsy Treasures, was having lunch with a friend. We talked about the ill-fated article that I had brought Inara to Mountainair to write, and I asked if she was interested in the photos I took. However, someone else had written up her place for a national magazine and sent her a CD of the photos, so I lost out on that one. She talked about the various specialty magazines that had done stories about her business, and said she was more interested in that kind of coverage than something local. She had been traveling for some time (trunk shows? Arts and craft fairs?) and was glad to be home for a little while before starting out again.

I started the drive home, this time on what I call the back road, i.e. on the east side of the mountains, since I had been able to determine that it was open now, although there might be fire trucks on the side of the road. I was warned that there was a construction area that might require a delay of up to 10 minutes. This route went along Hwy 55, then turned north on what used to be called South 14, but had since been renamed Hwy 337, for reasons unknown to the likes of me. It is a ride I always enjoy, through the pines and cedars of the Manzano Mountains and the Cibola National Forest, and through the Spanish landgrant towns of Chilili and Torreon (Torrance County), etc. The air seemed clear, in spite of the wildfires that had been plaguing the area. The sun was shining, the sky was blue and there were a few puffy white clouds dotting the sky. I thought of stopping a few times to take photos of the old villages that I passed through, but I remembered the great one I took in black and white of the church at Tajique, and thought, the light just isn't right. That one was taken with a huge black thundercloud overhead, forming a backdrop for the church. Even that church didn't look that same. Since I took that photo, more than ten years ago, the church has been renovated, with a stone facing instead of stucco, and brightly painted turquoise window frames. I sold a copy of my old photo to Victoria, who told me that her grandfather had helped build that church.

As I continued to drive the two-lane road, not worrying about the many no-passing zones on the twisting road because I wasn't in a hurry, I thought about that this was one of the things that I loved about living in New Mexico. The countryside is rich in history, tradition and the kind of visual stimuli that artists thrive on. There is a unique flavor of life here, delicious to contemplate. It makes me happy. I need to get on the road more often.

Petare, Venezuela

2008-05-04T16:11:00.002-06:00

I didn't write this, but my notes were used in compiling it.

PETARE, Sunday, March 29, 2008

George’s posting based on notes compiled from Joan, Cherie, Tom W., Anne, Tom C., Jeff

[Petare is a parish of the municipality of Sucre, in the state of Miranda. It was founded on Feb. 17, 1621. In Native Venezuelan language, Petare means Face to the
River. George]

Two subways, a bus, then private bus up the hill. View of high-rise apartments, steep, twisting, narrow streets, shops.

COMMUNITY TV STATION

Angel Piñango, member of coordinating body, and his co-workers.

Angel studied television for five years.

TV guys built the studio themselves with financial help from a foundation, Friends of Ismael (Puerto Rican salsa singer), who has visited Petare several times. A 2000 telecommunications law requires each of Venezuela’s 325 municipalities to have TV and radio stations but only 28 community TV stations in operation and over 100 radio stations across the country. Projected goal is 300 community TV stations and 500 radio stations. The telecommunications law made possible the acquisition of building space, state provides money for building materials; Ministry of Education provides cameras and broadcasting equipment. Some Cubans help with production. Note that volunteer staff were there on the Sunday we visited, helping to finish the building and expand the broadcasting.

Tere Tere is community newspaper.

During the April 2002 coup, Mayor Alfredo Peña, in cahoots with coup leaders, closed the Petare TV and radio stations – a blow to community, since all presentations were by community people. This was an attack in favor of the opposition and imperialism. Coup leaders also closed channel 8, the only state-run TV channel. Now newspapers, radio and TV stations organizing on a national level with help from Ministry of Telecommunications, but still a work in progress.

COMMUNITY PROGRAMMING

Community organizations and projects can borrow equipment, tape what they want, and broadcast it to the neighborhood. This supports people’s power. Petare has a population of 1.5 million in an area of 40 sq. kilometers. They are working to calibrate equipment to reach this largest neighborhood in Latin America. President Chavez visited a Petare home for a broadcast of Aló Presidente.

Jorge: Technical coordinator, helped design the set-up. Got help from friends who are engineers and architects. Some people in the barrio supported this effort, some did not. Still have to integrate further into the community. TV watchers participate in evaluation of content; they monitor what’s happening at the local level. Insecurity in Caracas is at least partly due to corporate media, which is top down, with content decided by an elite. This is why community stations are needed; they teach community members how to film, edit, produce, direct, because according to the constitution, people have a right to tell their own story. Community stations provide a counterbalance to partying, drinking, foreign values, individualism, violence, commercials of interest to upper classes, seen on private media. Some Venezuelans don’t seem like they have Venezuelan values, more like those of outsiders. Community stations are trying to create a new reality, go back to Venezuelan values, and produce arts, plays, music of community to promote Venezuelan identity. This is grassroots up, not top down and responds to the needs of Venezuelans, not to outside interests. Editorial line of the opposition is that the state is monopolizing TV and radio and newsprint but this responds to foreign interests. The community station’s 3 thematic areas: education about all subjects such as new values, environmental education; social accounting-denouncing what government is not doing well; and consciousness-raising.

Q: Are there limits to how, or how much, you can be critical of the government?

A: No. Our job is to denounce and be critical of the government because if we don’t, we aren’t doing our job and won’t be credible. We are supposed to be critical; that is one of the purposes of this station. We bring the voices of the people to the government.

Some shows address healthcare, such as not smoking, dengue fever, HIV/AIDS, stopping unwanted pregnancies, popular power, sex education.

FREE EXPRESSION AND FREEDOM OF THE PRESS

Foreign visitors bring documentaries that are critical of their government that are difficult to see in their own country. They are shown in Venezuela, bringing different perspectives of US government and showing breakdown of the American dream. Poverty is global, not just in poor countries, and people are waking up to the concept of the American dream. Why is Chavez sending oil to the US? People are getting a more nuanced understanding of the US as a rich country. Hope US people are looking beyond borders to see what’s happening beyond CNN. Use videos to show Venezuelans that not everyone from US is an enemy; they are interested and fighting the same battle abroad.

Eva Golinger, US/Venezuelan lawyer, has detailed payments by US to Venezuelan media. She published a book, The Chavez Code, which details a lot of these payments thru USAID and US National Endowment for Democracy (NED).

Last year, opposition student movement painted hands with symbols that came from outside Venezuela. At autonomous universities, 80% of students are from middle and upper class families. Chavez government is trying to eliminate entrance requirements.

ROOF TOP AT TV STATION

Can see geography – wealthiest neighborhoods (small) and vast poor neighborhoods.

- 1960s-80s-pact (Punto Fijo, 1958) between 2 political parties (Acción Democrática and Copei) to share power

- Over 1000 barrios

- Mistakes with community participation-trying to get people involved. People previously told they had no rights and told they should have different values. Now teaching that solidarity more important than trying to have more than other people.

- Mansion of former dictator Marcos Pérez Jiménez, sits on a hill, was taken over by the state and now houses part of the National Guard.

- Community movement began in 90s, before Chavez, but was decentralized, with no bigger political vision. Now there is more direction, bigger than just the community, more at the macro level, nation wide.

- From TV station roof, could see several Barrio Adentro clinics

CLINIC

- There was a 2001 pre-project and then a project overhaul and money was lost in the first overhaul. In 2004 a second request for money.

- Jesus Garcia- a community leader who taught them how to organize

- Clinic not yet functioning. Community council first had to get mayor to designate the building as clinic. Then the community remodeled and divided the space for exam rooms, counseling office (the first we had seen), reception area, pharmacy, etc.

- Furniture delivered day before. A fleet of 70 semis had brought equipment and furniture to clinics all over the country. Equipment is from Cuba and Europe-ordered by Cubans, manufactured by Europeans w/whom Cubans had contacts.

- A prominent member of community and its council showed us through the clinic. She was proud to show us that they had an otoscope (device for ear exam) among their new treasures. Also had state-of-the-art scale for weighing infants and young children-critical for newborns and children w/diarrhea and other illnesses where weight loss is an issue. She also took us up on the roof where they hope to get enough money to have a classroom to train pre-med and medical students to implement Misión Sucre. She exuded so much pride – as indeed it matched the community’s accomplishments..

- Major health problems in neighborhood are respiratory illnesses and asthma.

- There will be an MD, 2 RNs, secretary, social worker, social psychiatrist (for cancer and drug problems counseling), and gynecological treatment. A pediatrician will rotate w/ an ophthalmologist. Also a cardiology treatment room, air conditioned, and a dental clinic.

- Community working on window treatments.

- Even in private clinics, food offered to patients subsidized by state

VARIOUS NOTES

- Community requesting funds for school, speed bumps, housing rehab, day care center, popular pharmacies, police and neighborhood watch.

- 2006 community councils [established?], local cabinets with president created, did census. Communities have popular assemblies, election committees, leadership, committees for health care, religion, environment, education, tourism

- Community chapel, multi-sport facility

- Chavez constitutional reforms (defeated): no term limits for presidency, eliminate middlemen by giving financing to local councils. But governors and other middlemen didn’t organize in support of reform referendum since was against their self-interest to give financial power to community councils.

- Stopped at community kitchen which prepares 150 meals per day for people unable to buy food or cook for themselves. Our lunch was cooked with food from a Mercal. These grocery stores sell basic foods at set prices and some people get discounts, up to 100%, depending on their financial situation. Our hosts absolutely refused all of Patrick’s efforts to reimburse them for our lunches, beer, soft drinks, musical entertainment with cuatro and three musicians, etc.

- Went to Reina Tovar’s house to eat our lunch and sign her wall, entirely covered by other visitor’s signatures. She had an abundance of decorative elements as well as plants.

- Saw inside of a house for sale. The owner was donating space in living room for the community council’s computer. House will become a pre-school.

- Saw a water runoff channel being constructed so that houses on downhill side

- would be protected from erosion due to heavy rains.

TRASH COLLECTION

Huge piles of garbage in dumpsters. Collection is by private company, owned by the opposition. In fall 07, prior to referendum, piles of garbage everywhere. Opposition thought they could pour gasoline on it and it would look like Caracas in flames. Failed. Now the company lets it pile up until an opposition candidate comes to the community, then they hurry and clean it up so opposition look like good guys, and show the poor that Chavez government doesn’t work. Services are paid individually in Petare. All services are provided through local mayor who contracts out to private companies. Chavez wants to nationalize garbage collection so opposition says Chavez is a communist.

PARAMILITARIES

Both Reina and TV guy said that violence and uncollected garbage are the two worst problems in Petare. They attribute the violence to Colombians-probably AUC (United Self-defense Forces of Colombia) paramilitaries. As we were walking through the community with Reina, there was an expensive new SUV, with several people listening to loud Colombian music. Tom Walker innocently commented on it to Reina-saying “I like Vallenato music.” Reina said “I hate it,” saying that she associated it with the violence. Tom noted that Vallenato music is the theme music of the AUC and that AUC money is behind some of the Vallenato stars.

Eva Golinger on Venezuela

2008-04-17T14:24:00.004-06:00

This is from a meeting that our Witness for Peace delegation had with Ms. Golinger on March 31, 2008.

U.S. Funding in Venezuela

Venezuela is not well known to the U.S., not even Caracazo. Previously known for stability and beautiful women, e.g. the Miss Universe contest.

Ms. Golinger has double citizenship, U.S. and VZ, having claimed her 2nd citizenship (through her mother) as an adult. She is a lawyer educated in New York.

She came to VZ pre-Chavez. It was a time of great repression. The military draft was done away with by Chavez because there was no enemy, so the draft was ridiculous and the military machinery didn't work. The latter was 40-50 years old. Even the tanks didn't work. The draft was weird and random, with poor men being dragged off the street or in a dance club. This didn't happen to those with more money. Now the army is 100% volunteer including the reserves.

Eva was in VZ for 5 years, then left in 1998 because nothing was happening.

The U.S. maintained a good relationship with VZ even before the last dictatorship. Rich Venezuelans went to the U.S. for tourism and shopping.

In 1998 things started to change, but slowly. It's hard to imagine there could be a big change. This was during the Clinton Administration. In VZ, in the 60's and 70's, more than 3000 leftist activists were disappeared, assassinated, or tortured. It was one of the key areas of concern for the U.S., connected with Cuba, so they began to send people here. Carilles started a counter-intelligence movement here.

In 1999-2000, the new constitution was written with 350 articles in five categories, including human rights. There was a package of 49 laws as an enabling act. That's what started the opposition to build and what riled the U.S. Under the hydrocarbons law, oil companies had to be 51% Venezuelan-owned.

Chavez was the only outspoken leader at the Canadian summit. VZ took over leadership of OPEC, of which it was a founding member. Chavez went to visit all the other members, including Saddam Hussein in Iraq.

The U.S. started to provide funding to various political parties and economic forces. In 2001 was the first substantial shift of the U.S. toward VZ. The two main funding entities were the National Endowment for Democracy and ____(?). She obtained information from the Freedom of Information Act (FOIA). As she outlines in The Chavez Code, the organization used U.S. taxpayers dollars to subvert democracy. It was supposed to be a private entity, created in 1983, but operates out of embassies.

In 2001, there was quadruple funding to build up the opposition movement. The funding went into the organization which organized the coup. Different NGOs , and political parties received funding. Two weeks after the coup, the State Department gave ? million, increased funding to the same groups. International Funding Institute, National Democratic Institute (Madeline Albright), AFFELD—Solidarity Center—infiltrated labor groups. Until two years ago it was the international arm of the AFL-CIO. This was doing something which was illegal in the U.S., i.e. funding foreign political parties, but in a covert way.

USAID – Famine relief, disaster aid, poverty. Billions of dollars, started under Kennedy, perverted to become subversion under the name of democracy. In 2005, created a military division with connections to the Pentagon and Southcom. Didn't have a presence in VZ before June, 2002. Office for Transition Initiatives. Only one in VZ today; in 2004 was in Bolivia, one in Haiti until removal of Aristide. Contract a private organization to administer funds to promote democracy: Development Alternatives, Inc. U.S. corporations which are taking 70% of the money into their own pockets, salaries of people administering the aid, $10 million budget in VZ in 2002.

In 2003, there were 64 days of severe economic sabotage. Every TV channel , except the government channel 8, devoted 24 hours to propaganda against the Chavez government. There was also a lockout of enterprises. No "rational" reason for food shortage. Companies were hoarding food, gasoline. Military finally had to intervene because people were starving.

Recall referendum to recall Chavez--$9 million of U.S. taxpayers dollars. Over 200 outside organizations observing the recall election.

Second front of attack

In 2005, more public attack. Condaleeza Rice is the crafter of the policy. She stated it in her confirmation hearings. Classified Chavez as a destabilizing element. In 2005 Gauss classified VZ as a hotspot. Building rhetoric—Pat Robertson's statement , Bush administration classified VZ as not cooperating in the war on drugs. VZ had discovered evidence that the DEA was sabotaging VZ's anti-drug efforts.

In 2006, Rumsfeld called Chavez a Hitler. John Negroponte stated that Chavez is one of the most threatening elements against the U.S. Repeated concepts of Chavez as a dictator, association with terrorism. State Department classification as a country "not fully collaborating with the War on Terror." There's no other country on that list. Hadn't figured out how they would still get oil if they put VZ on the more extreme list of a country aiding terrorists. Sanctioned against buying weapons, so VZ started to look towards other countries.

Then the famous Devil Speech by Chavez that sets off the media. Shows that Chavez had become a major political power. VZ tied to get a seat on the UN Security Council, but the U.S. pushed for Guatemala instead.

2007—U.S. statements worse. Called VZ complicit with drug trafficking, now #1 (cf. Columbia!).

2008—Bush trying to put VZ on a list of state-sponsored terrorism, sponsored by Kay Bailey Hutchinson. This is working right now in Congress. The famous super-laptop is the justification for placing VZ on the list.

U.S. bases border vZ maritime territory are expanding. Military exercise, first time in this region since the cold war—intimidate VZ by a show of U.S. force and power. The same tactic was used against Nicaragua, Granada before invading.

Operation Enduring Freedom in the Caribbean and Central America. Also happening in Bolivia—separatist movements. Zulia is the seat of VA opposition. Expanded base in Curacao.

Hostile Discourse, Increased Military Presence

Subversion in country, through funding, e.g. student groups on the right, subvert Chavez movement, ala Cointelpro in the U.S. When combined, marked and scare increase in aggression. Can see there's a goal of Destruction of the Bolivarian movement.

Subversion of referendum by incredible propaganda campaign, internal confusion, exploiting corruption, economic sabotage—no corn meal, milk, rice, toilet paper, car parts. National Guard uncovering warehouses with tons of sugar.

Plan Balboa—fictitious exercise to take over VZ to save and rescue Columbia, "The White Country," secure oil reserves.

Role of U.S. expatriates?

Q&A:
(Tom) Info on how U.S. is coordinating shortages of sugar, corn meal?

Kissinger, re Chile in 1970, "Make the economy scream."

May be controlled through a U.S. multinational not distributing. VZ distributors sending it across the border into Columbia. U.S. Government documents on website that Uriba is incorporating paramilitaries into the Columbian government.

Encroachment of Columbian paramilitaries into vZ, including in Petare (the barrio we visited). There is an area there called Little Columbia.

Almost 100 paramilitaries were arrested; they were trying to assassinate Chavez. Chavez pardoned 40 of them in order to get Uribe to let him facilitate the peace process.

U.S. elections?

John McCain—Man of War—has made several anti-Chavez comments.
Clinton—political strategist Mark Penn is working with the VZ opposition to make statements against Chavez.

U.S. embassy attempts to influence Fulbright scholars in Bolivia to spy on Cubans and Venezuelans there. No one has looked into Fulbrights in VZ. There are no Peace Corps projects in VZ.

Separatism in Kosovo – Philip Goldberg, now in Bolivia, encouraged separatism. Bolivian government has made him a persona non grata.

Ex-Presidents Club, includes Aznar from Spain and Fox from Mexico, with right-wing political think tanks, etc.

Creation of civilian reserves, joint exercises. Military trained with U.S. perspective. Can't see possibility of U.S. invasion.

Cuba has excercises of simulated invasion of the U.S.

Three main separatist movements, started 2005-2006 when William Brownfeld went to VZ as ambassador.
1. VZ is a clash with Venezuelan culture. Zulia is bordering Columbia, Pacific? Is important for agriculture. Another place is Margarita Island. Brownfeld would say how much he liked the independent Republic of Margarita. Not taken seriously in VA.
2. Bolivia – Santa Cruz. Very serious. Economic, racism against indigenous people, fascists who come to live there.
3. Ecuador

In upcoming elections, Chavista strategy to nominate one candidate for each position instead of multiple candidates, to strengthen position against opposition.

Take action on funding issue—Why are we funding political activity in VZ, feeding the conflict and polarization.

VZ Solidarity Network website—directly geared toward congressmen. Why don't we know more about it?

Legacy of Ashes, a book about the CIA

Respond to all the lies in the Washington Post and everywhere in the U.S. Why do they have to attach an adjective to Chavez's name every time they mention it? Why not just President Chavez. Go to editorial boards, like Condaleeza does.

Creation of Sister Cities project.

Public TV system at county and city level—lack of political position (community access channels).

VZ labor movement? Previous labor unions lost credibility. New union federation UNT. Bolivarian federation of workers. Internal conflicts among themselves. What's the role of a union in a worker-owned company? Chavez involved in the discussion.

Payments to journalists—Eva has a list in doc(?)
Program was created by Rockefeller—propaganda outlet? Brings journalists to the U.S.

Eva published a list of 33 journalists. Got branded as McCarthyism. Her apartment got ransacked. She became the subject of political cartoons that tried to smear her.

3/28 Washington Post, blog by William Arkin: fighting the war on terror from the Caribbean and Central America http://blog.washingtonpost.com/earlywarning/2008/03/fighting_the_war_on_terror_in.html

3/28 Rhode Island Troops deployed from R. I. Army National Guard
http://www.turnto10.com/northeast/jar/news.apx.-content-articles-JAR-2008-03-25-0009.html

www.chavezcode.com
Evagolinger@hotmail.com

Latest sex scandal

2008-03-14T23:10:00.004-06:00

Reflecting on the Spitzer case which is getting much media time, I wondered if we shouldn't think more seriously about the wisdom of voting men into office. Their raging hormones might interfere with the ability to do the job effectively.

Also see Ellen Goodman, Greg Palast, and Jon Stewart's Daily Show for further commentary.

International Women's Day. March 8

2008-03-08T23:19:00.005-07:00

The following was copied from www.cluw.org, the website of the Coalition of Labor Union Women:

In 1975, The United Nations proclaimed March 8 to be the day on which women around the world should commemorate their struggles and celebrate their achievements.

But its history actually goes back more than a century before that day. In 1857, women garment workers in New York staged a massive street protest about the 12-hour work days, poverty wages and sexual harassment that were common in their jobs. Fifty-one years later, they held the same massive demonstration in New York, adding the problems of the lack of women's suffrage and continuing child labor to list of women's burdens.

In 1910, women in 17 countries, attending the Conference of Socialist Women in Denmark, vote to establish an International Women's Day March.

Continuing outrage at the plight of women, fueled by the tragic loss of young women in the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory Fire of 1911 and the Textile Workers strike in 1912 that inspired the song "Bread and Roses" (bread symbolizing wages, and roses, quality of life) helped to create a common bond across countries and industries for women workers.

March 8 became known as the day that marks women's efforts to attain justice and equality for themselves and their children.

The reason I quote this history, and why I'm commenting today, is my dismay at the dilution of the importance of this holiday, at least as I see it here in Albuquerque. I do know that in the Soviet Union, International Women's Day (IWD) became nothing more than a holiday akin to Mother's Day in the U.S., where children gave their mothers gifts like flowers and candy. However, since the holiday was revitalized by the Women's Liberation Movement in the late 60's, it had a more important political significance, especially in regard to working women. Nevertheless, today in Albuquerque, the National Hispanic Cultural Center, which has an annual Women and Creativity celebration every year in March, used IWD as a marketing opportunity, and promoted "Girls' Day Out." They suggested bringing a friend to have lunch in the La Fonda cafe, with a special menu prepared by the chef, and going shopping in the gift shop with a 15% discount for the day. There was, however, a celebration of women's art with an exhibit by Rainbow Artists: A Women's Collective and another Latin Diva concert in the evening.

The other event that I attended was the one annually sponsored by Local 1199 of the hospital workers' union. I have attended this event in past years, and so was disappointed to see what was on the program this year. It turned out to be a very small audience, smaller than in the past, so the program wasn't especially interesting to the union members, either. After showing "One Fine Day," a film which runs through the history of women's suffrage and women's liberation with a montage of historical figures, there was a Chautauqua performance of McNeal's Medicine Show, a profile of Violet McNeal aka Princess Lotus Blossom. It was based on the research that the performer, Diana Enright-Sherwood , has done on women who performed through out the country in medicine shows as magicians and hucksters, not the bimbo assistants of magicians that is the image often presented. The show was based on the career one woman in this historical time, at the end of the 19th century and beginning of the 20th century. The performance included magic tricks and an explanation of the so-called medicine that was sold. Afterward, tea and cake was served.

Although the scholarship was done by a woman, and it was an attempt to illuminate a particular segment of herstory, I didn't think it was the appropriate kind of program for IWD. In other words, it missed the point of the holiday. It was more like a presentation of bread and circuses, which was characteristic of the Roman Empire in its last days, and sadly too common during the present time in the United States.

An Evening with Natalie Goldberg

2008-03-06T23:07:00.003-07:00

Natalie was present at Bookworks tonight for a talk and signing of her new book, Old Friend from Far Away. It's a book about writing memoir. The room was packed. I knew it would be before I even entered the store, because the parking lot was full and I had to park down one of the dark, one-lane side streets so common in the North Valley. She was her usual humorous and charming self, and the audience was warmly receptive, eager for her wise words and to be entertained. Most of them were Natalie groupies. I recorded her talk with my handy little digital camera, videocam, voice recorder.

I was a little distracted, ruminating on the pronunciation of the word "memoir". Natalie, like some other I know, pronounce it as if it were spelled memwa, i.e. as if the "r" should be silent. I don't understand that, because the "r" is one of the final letters that IS pronounced. I just looked it up in my Webster's New World Dictionary, thinking I might be mistaken, but no, there was the "r" in the pronunciation guide. So, where does it come from?

Some of the writing cues that she read from the book (write for 10 minutes. Go!) are what is your secret vice? When did you pretend not to care? A hill you once knew. A moment in a library. The hottest place you've ever been (I think that must be Turkmenistan. When I was there, I kept saying, "It's hotter than Phoenix!" I wanted to say it was hotter than hell, but I didn't want to be rude.) What did your father never stop talking about? Details of a funeral you attended in winter. (That one should be easy. My father, my sister, and my mother all died in Chicago in the winter). So, all I need to do is give myself the time, and start writing. I ordered the book from the public library, but there are six people ahead of me in the line.

March 15 demonstraition: End the Iraq War

2008-03-06T21:27:00.002-07:00

5th Anniversary of the Iraq Invasion, Stop the War March

Saturday, March 15, 2008
11:00 AM

UNM Bookstore
2301 Central NE
Albuquerque, New Mexico 87131
35.0811, -106.621

Description
March to Lockheed Martin's war think tank (Center for Science, Technology & Policy) and other military-industrial complex sites at UNM. -End Colonial Occupations of Iraq, Palestine and Afghanistan
-Impeach Bush & Cheney
-Right of Return for Palestinians
-Stop Threats against Iran, Venezuela and Cuba
-End All Wars of the Empire
-No Standing Army
-Close U.S. Torture Centers
-Stop Racism and Immigrant Bashing
-Remove Money from Politics
for more info call 505-401-4808
Homepage
http://stopthewarmachine.org

Bernalillo County Democratic Party

2008-02-07T21:10:00.000-07:00

I went to my Democratic Party ward meeting tonight, for the first time in the 23+ years that I've lived here. Cisco McSorley was there, collecting signatures on his petitions and greeting the participants. I asked him about the dismantle nukes memorial and he said it passed the Rules Committee today, so that's the good news.

My ward (which includes the university area)had the highest number of voters on Tuesday, 2,066. We were entitled to 17 delegates, and without thinking about it, I put my name on the list, so I'm an alternate. The bad news is that the state convention is on March 15, the same day as our 5-year anti-war march. Since I'm only an alternate, I don't really have to go, but it does mean that a certain number of progressive people will be spending the day at the Santa Ana Casino in a meeting. Among the delegates that I know of are Ilsa Garduno, Rey's wife and SWOP activist.

The other good news is that we passed a few resolutions. One is that the Democratic Party will never again take on running an election, which cost them $250,000 and they did it so poorly (dare I say incompetently?). I heard that on the West Side, elderly people were waiting in the long lines outside in the cold. The other two resolutions, which won by acclaim, were to impeach Bush and Cheney.

Super Tuesday

2008-02-05T21:12:00.000-07:00

It was exciting to see how many New Mexico Democrats turned out to participate in the caucus/primary, reflecting a high degree of interest in politics this time around. Undoubtedly, the number of people who showed up at the polls far exceeded the expectation of the Democratic Party of New Mexico. Waits of an hour to an hour-and-half were not unusual, and in some places, the supply of ballots was exhausted and more had to be copied, delaying the movement of the line even more.

In Rio Rancho, only one polling place had been scheduled for 37 precincts, causing a great deal of frustration for those who were waiting in line to make their choice. They just now finished voting at 9:30pm, although the polls closed at 7pm. According to state law, no results could be announced until all voting was finished, so we might hear some results soon.

I arrived at my neighborhood polling place about 6:20pm. There were three lines, divided into groups according to the voter's last name. I was lucky to be in the first group, A-F, because, at least at that time, it was the shortest line. The others wound all the way around the large room and into the hall of the Monte Vista Christian Church. I was finished in about 35-40 minutes.

It'll be interesting to see if this trend of voter turnout continues in June, when the rest of the state's primary is held. We'll be voting for a candidate for the 1st U.S. Congressional District, a replacement for Heather Wilson. She's running for Senator this time, hoping to succeed Pete Dominici, but there's a large field of hopefuls running against her.

Are health care providers greedy?

2008-01-27T11:04:00.000-07:00

I am writing in reference to the article in the Albuquerque Journal of January 16, recounting the interview with Governor Richardson about his health care plan. In the interview, he accused physicians of being too greedy and needing to give a little, instead of objecting to draft poposals that the health care authority have the power to control reimbusement. I wonder if the governor would be willing to take a pay cut in order to keep state spending down. There is a joke ciruclating among Arizona physicians that New Mexico has guards posted at the border to turn away doctors—that's how "physician-friendly" our state is thought to be!

I don't have current figures. However, a 2003 press release from the Center for Studying Health System Change stated that nationally, average physician net income from the practice of medicine dropped 5 percent in real dollars between 1995 and 1999, while other skilled professionals' (specialists) average income increased 3.5 percent, according to a national study released by HSC.
The growth of managed care in the mid-1990s likely played a role in declining physician income by holding down spending on physician services through discounted fees and restrictions on the use of care.

I am not a physician, but a doctoral-level behavioral health provider in solo private practice for the past 10 years. I am a one-person office, keeping overhead low by not having a full-time staff to answer the phone, do bookkeeping, and take care of billing the multitude of insurance companies I contract with. Like other non-physician health care providers, my income is much lower than the national median, probably less than one-quarter of physician's income. I probably wouldn't be able to survive if I didn't have income resources in additon to what I earn in my professional practice. Like physicians, my income is regulated by the managed care companies, most of which have not increased the contracted fees in the past 10 years. Physician's fees are always higher than other health professionals and set the standard by which our fees are decided.

Most of us have spent many years in education and training to prepare for our service professions. Are we being greedy because we want to protect our interests and our income? I thought the governor was a proponent of private enterprise, but he is discouraging us by his insults.

Revolutions Theater Festival

2008-01-19T10:34:00.000-07:00

I missed the Wau Wau Sisters from New York City on Wednesday, because I went to a Coalition planning meeting for the March 15 Peace March, on the anniversary of the U.S. entry into Iraq. However, last night I went to see Lauren Weedman, from Los Angeles, in her performance piece"Bust". She's a former correspondent of The Daily Show with Jon Stewart, reporting from a new location, the LA County penal system. She became a volunteer for Beyond Bars, a prisoner advocacy organization. Scenes from the prison and her interviews with the three women who were assigned to her are interspersed with auditions for her paying acting jobs and telephone calls with the editor of Glamor Magazine about the publication of a story of one of her most personal life moments. Lauren takes on the persona of each person, including the jail guards. This humorous but serious piece was awareded "Best of the Arts 2006 by Seattle Times and Seattle Magazine. After the event, a reception in the lobby was sponsored by Copy Rite and Ribs, a restaurant in Cedar Crest, in the East Mountains. There was roast beef with barbeque sauce, sliced ham and turkey, crudites, stuffed mushrooms, and punch and cookies. More events of the festival in the next three weeks.

Out Of the Ordinary: Festival of Lies and Les Studios Kabako

2007-12-08T11:57:00.000-07:00

This is a draft, a work in progress, but I thought I'd post what I have so far, because of lack of time to finish it immediately:

Out Of the Ordinary: Festival of Lies and Les Studios Kabako

Faustin Linyekula Ngoy is the Artistic Director, Choreographer and Performer of Les Studios Kabako, Democratic Republic of Congo. His company performed their multimedia performance at the N4th Theater on November 23 & 24, as part of the Out Of the Ordinary Festival (OOO). The group spent a week in Albuquerque, culimnating in their weekend performances.

Faustin led a Saturday lunchtime discussion at N4th on Africa: Arts and Social Change. His work is a multimedia integration of dance, history and politics, and he spoke of life in the Congo. Born in 1974, he said that growing up in a dictatorship under Mobutu Sese Seiko seemed normal. Individual entities disappeared in this society. There was only one individual in society, the Leader, who thought for everyone. They didn't have to make decisions. Under these conditions, one canot talk of democracy if there aren't responsible individuals.

The history of Congo has been a stormy one, and one in which the country went through several changes of names, along with changes in leadership. It is this history which is portrayed in the performance of Festival of Lies. The Congo became a colony of Belgium, or more specifically, the private property of King Leopold II, in 1876, and was known at the Free State of Congo. From that time, until independence in 1960, Belgium exploited the mineral resources, principally rubber, and the African population which provided the work force for the industry.

Patrice Lumumba, the first Congolese Prime Minister, was assasinated six months after independence by the CIA. A series of dictatorial presidents followed, notably Mobutu Sese Seko, who was Marshal and President of Zaire (Congo renamed) from 1965-1997. After a civil war, Laurent Desire Kavila became President of the Democratic Republic of Cong0 in 1997, until his recent death, when his son, Joseph Kabila took over. The ongoing war ended officially in 2003, with a government consisting of one president and four vice-presidents. Elections were heald in 2006, and the country is "relatively at peace."

Valerie Plame Wilson @ Bookworks

2007-11-10T23:29:00.000-07:00

Today, Valerie Plame Wilson spoke and signed books at a local independent bookstore in Albuquerque. There was standing room only, and no where to park. Ms. Wilson (which is the name she has used for some time, as she's been married for many years) was there with her husband Joseph Wilson, and her two children, Trevor and Samantha. You may have heard her being interviewed on radio and television programs, e.g. Charlie Rose, and heard her speak of her disillusionment with the lack of support and protection from the CIA, in spite of their claims to be family to their employees. She spoke about the politicization of the CIA, i.e. that it seems to be under the thumb of Bush in the same way as our other public and private institutions seem to be. I wondered if the same thing would have happened to a male employee of the CIA, but hopefully we'll never know. She was clear in saying that the leak of her undercover identity was treason and should be prosecuted as such. She and her husband have several civil suits in the works, including one against Karl Rove.

I recorded her remarks today and am trying them available here,but so far I haven't been able to upload the file to the blog. I tried uploading it to YouTube, too, but I can't find it there, either. I'll try again.

There are a few photos I took of the occasion.

I also used the occasion to gather signatures on my petition to get Dennis Kucinich on the New Mexico primary ballot, and Joe Wilson signed it. Valerie demurred, saying she something like, she was in enough trouble already.

Axis Dance Company at North 4th Art Center

2007-11-10T19:46:00.000-07:00

The Axis Dance Company is an excellent troupe of people in wheel chairs and 2 "temporarily able-bodied" dancers, and one dancer who has no feet below her knees and only rudimentary hands. The latter, Lisa Bufano, a petite, pixie-ish young woman, who sometimes wears table-leg stilts, had a bacterial infection when she was 21, leading to the amputation of both her feet and fingers.

You can see a couple of video clips of their performances at http://www.axisdance.org/performance.php.

This morning I went back to N4th and saw a short film about one of their former members, Homer, who had only one leg, and how he danced on one leg or on crutches. Sadly, he later died of cancer. Also this a.m. was a film, "Right to Risk," about disabled people rafting in the Grand Canyon. It was amazing! I wondered how bling people could appreciate the Canyon, but that was part of what the movie showed.

Guillermo Gomez-Pena

2007-10-01T23:48:00.000-06:00

If courage is a flaw, then Kucinich loses

2007-10-01T09:15:00.000-06:00

I have joined the local Kucinich campaign committee.
This letter is from the Abq. Tribune on Saturday, Sept. 29. It was written by Rosamund Evans:

If courage is a flaw, then Kucinich loses

Did I miss an election? The presidential candidates' primaries are a month away, yet I hear that Ohio Democratic Rep. Dennis Kucinich is "unelectable" and is omitted from Iowa Democratic events (Iowa Sen. Tom Harkin's rally) and even national TV broadcasts and debates.

He has been made invisible, even on the issue of health care.

Who decided Kucinich is not electable? As nearly as I know, he has not been involved in any fund-raising scandals, and he has not been accused of lying or committing illegal acts.

He has voted consistently and strongly for the rights of workers to be represented by unions and have a safe work environment, guaranteed by laws that are enforced. For example, protecting miners against mining companies that put miners at risk for increased profits.

He never voted for the Iraq attack and invasion or for the billions to support that pre-emptive strike. He did not vote for the occupation, the "surge" or the billions to pay war profiteers with no-bid, no-oversight contracts to conduct that occupation. But the American people, by a large majority, also vote this way when polled or listened to in any way. Does that show he is not electable?

Kucinich voted against the Patriot Act and against all the changes in the laws that have protected citizens for centuries, including the right of habeas corpus and the right to be secure in the protection of privacy.

Kucinich not only believes in the necessary right to health care but wrote and introduced in 2004 a single-payer health care bill. With Rep. John Conyers, it was reintroduced as HR 676 in January 2007. Called "Medicare for All," it is a carefully planned change. It has 77 co-signers. It would cover everyone with comprehensive care and cost less than is now spent for U.S. health care. It is affordable because it challenges the huge profits that are now paid with tax money to HMOs, pharmaceutical companies, insurance companies and nursing home chains.

The American people want, by a huge percentage, a plan that simplifies, reduces the one-third overhead now paid and eliminates deductibles and co-pays. Health care dollars for health care, not advertising, administration and CEO income.

But corporations don't want this change. Is this why the corporate media and the corporate pundits declare Kucinich "unelectable"?

If courageous stands against corporate greed and corporate influence make a candidate "unelectable," if corporations choose the candidates, fund the campaigns and determine what information is heard, do we have voting rights in a democracy? A poll tax is not needed for control, as the choices have been made before printing the ballot. More efficient!

Kucinich is an honest, experienced congressman with a message of hope and plans for sound, intelligent changes. I want his message heard so that people can decide whether they want to vote for him or the candidates financed by corporate money.

Rosamund Evans

Albuquerque

City Council Meeting - follow-up on Saturday's events

2007-09-18T11:30:00.000-06:00

Monday evening the Raging Grannies and other movement activists attended the Albuquerque City Council meeting. The resolution calling on the United States Congress toRescind the Iraqu Resolution and calling for the orderly withdrawal of American troops from Iraq to commence immediately was on the agenda, in last place.

The public comment time was largely concerned with the police being out of control at Saturday's peace demonstration. The woman who had worn the burqua, or, as she called it, the chador (I don't know the difference) was one of those speaking, and reading a poem that she wrote for the occasion because she was so upset. She also stated that she had later been informed that there is NO law that says a person can't wear a mask at a political demonstration. The law in question refers to wearing a mask during an armed assault.

Chief of Police Ray Schultz was called on for a response. He said that no captain or senior officer was at the scene to conduct a briefing presenting the guidelanes (rules of engagement?) to the police, acknowledging that this was a mistake. He stated the they had heard that the number of demonstrators might be as much as 800 or even 2000, although Jeanne P. one of the coordinators of the demonstration, denied that she had ever told him that. Furthermore, the police were worried about the presence of outside agitators (remember hearing that one before?) And, they were worried about the possibility of counter-protesters being present because of other events at the base and one honoring returning veterans at Veterans Park. Chief Schultz agreed that mounted units shouldn't have been there.

The chief said he would have William W. Deaton, Independent Review Officer of the Police Oversight Committee, conduct an investigation of the events and prepare reports of the results. Also, there will be further training of the police for proper procedure and policies, e.g. instead of engaging an individual protester, asking the organizers to ask the masked individual to comply with their request to remove the mask (which should actually unnecessary). The police are concerned with identifying participants for "security purposes."

The Raging Grannies were also signed up for the public comment period. During each alloted two-minute period, they sang a song, and others in the audience joined them. The two songs are as follows:

OH,DEAR! WHERE DOES OUR MONEY GO?

Chorus: Oh, dear where does our money go? (3)
missiles, invasions, and war!

Our kids need new school
and a lot more good teachers;
We're needing a health plan
with national features;
A lovely green planet with peace for all creatures
NOT missiles, invasins, and war!

We all pay our taxes
we know that we gotta,
We'd gladly shell out
for some clean air and water,
But who wants to pay
for desctruction and slaughter?
For missiles, invasions, and war!

We need our police and our National Guardsmen
But they're overseas on a misguided mission
Let's bring them home safely,
get back to our wisdom
NOT missiles, invasions, and war!

Chorus: Oh, dear where does our money go? Etc.

FOR OUR GRANDCHILDREN'S SAKE
Tune: Sweet Betsy From Pike

Our nation has people in desperate straits
It's high time we care for the United States
For we are the people we must liberate
Let's rebuild at home,
for our grandchildren's sake.

Oh, for our grandchildren's sake

We're over-extended, we're stretched to the max
Expecting our grandkids to pay it all back.
To bankrupt our nation is a tragic mistake
Let's bring home our troops,
for our grandchildren's sake

Oh, for our grandchildren's sake

Our bridges and highways are falling apart
But leaders in Washington don't have a heart
They spend all our money on killing and hate
Let's rebuild at home
for our grandchildren's sake.

Oh, for our grandchildrens sake

Iraq is atrocities, driven by lies
At home we let job loss and poverty rise
What kind of a world do you want to create?
Get out of Iraq, for our grandchildren's sake!

Oh, for our grandchildren's sake.

The meeting went on for some time, and I had to leave for another activity. At 10:45pm they finally voted to pass the resolution for the orderly withdrawal of American troops from Iraq to commence immediately. The vote was 5 to 2, with two members out of the room at the time.

Stand Down at Kirtland Airforce Base

2007-09-16T00:57:00.000-06:00

from Stop the War Machine Digest:

Two Sept. 15 demonstration updates:

1. From Jeanne:

Today’s demonstration at the Truman Gate of Kirtland Air Force Base was a definite example of how inappropriate police officers can be. Early in the demonstration, as protesters stood peacefully on the sidewalk, the police walked horses through the crowd on the sidewalk.

A police car drove up and down the street, the officer inside yelling at a few protesters who were standing on the curb to get up on the sidewalk.

A police officer approached 3 women who were standing in a non-used turn lane (the gate has been locked shut there for years) and told them in a frightening and intimidating manner to step out of the turn lane. Once they were up on the curb, he maneuvered his horse so it would press against the chest of at least one of the women.

Within the first 40 minutes of the protest, a police officer went up and
down the neighborhood streets, giving tickets to cars parked there.
City vehicles and cars without bumper stickers remained unticketed, while cars with bumper stickers received tickets. The police supervisor told us this was
because there was a 2-hour parking limit. No signs were posted to this effect, except around the park which is over two blocks away. A nonprotester down the street told us that his car had been parked on the street (closer to the park than the ticketed cars) since 8am (three hours previous to the start of the demonstration) and he had received no ticket. In fact, he told us, he parked there all day every day and was never ticketed.

A woman who was wearing a burka was approached by at least
four police officers and was immediately surrounded by them. They told her that she was to take off her burka, that wearing it was a security risk. When the police officers were asked what law she had violated, one of them responded that she had
not violated any law. Later, their supervisor (Sgt. Armendarez, badge number 467) said that there was a city ordinance that prohibited protesting in a mask. He insisted that she reveal herself to him and identify herself.

Many protesters were appalled at the actions of the police officers
and approached the police to speak with them. The supervisor of
the police stayed many yards behind the barricade at the Truman Gate and refused to speak with one of the organizers of the protest and two lawyers. Other police officers were sent into the crowd and could not avoid being approached by outraged people.

Some of the comments made by police officers to members of the crowd:

“Shave your armpits and tell me later.” (to a woman)

“Take a bath…”

One protester was arrested at one point after trying to talk to a police officer. We are hearing that he was put in the back of a police vehicle and left to sit in the closed car, windows rolled up, in the sun, for an extended period of time.

As the protester was being arrested, one man stepped forward to videotape
the arrest. Three police officers on horses approached at that point and stood between him and the arrest.

As the demonstration ended, one police car (car numbered G18) drove by and the police officer within called out “Go Bush!” on the police car’s speaker.

It appears that the Albuquerque Police Department is back in the business of intimidating free speech.

Indignant? Come to city council Monday night, 5pm, City Council Chambers. We will be there, calling for protection of freedom of speech.

or – Contact Mayor Martin Chavez: 768-3000, (email: MartinChavez@cabq.gov)

_____________________________
2. Another update from Bob on the Sept. 15 demonstration:

About 150-200 protesters showed up at Kirtland AFB this morning and were having great response from passers by but the city police department had sent out
the Emergency Response Team as front line responders who immediately started
harassing and pushing around the demonstrators.

One man was eventually arrested for knocking over a police orange cone and he was kept for about an hour or more in a locked up police car (windows rolled
up, parked in the sun).

The police rode horses through the group of demonstrators and gave many
harassing and threatening commands to demonstrators. We are hearing that one
police man told one person to take a bath, one to shave her armpits and call back in the morning.

One woman who had lived in Egypt a number of years wore a burka in solidarity with the women of Iraq and was immediately set up on by four SWAT dressed officers and two horseback officers. After much confrontation the police said if she identified herself to them they would not do anything. One other officer then said she had broken no law in wearing a burka. The police were out of control.

The police were leaving as we cleaned up. One bullhorn in one passing police car
came on and said, "GO BUSH!".

Local organizers had spent many years confronting the police over their
terrorist violations of the right of dissent. Supposedly after four years
they had said they would work with us. In recent years they have, but this
event marked a turning point backwards. Most people in the demonstration
felt the police were deliberately trying to provoke the demonstrators with a
show of officers on mounted horses and a large line of police cars right
behind us. In past years they have kept these forces out of sight as part
of our agreement to work with them. Today was different – the police refused to
identify the Sgt in charge and put parking tickets on cars with political bumper stickers. We have parked in these locations for years with no tickets.

The local community was planning on attending a city council meeting this coming Monday night to support a resolution being introduced to call for a resending of the war authoritarian. So in addition to that, local democracy activists will be taking to city council again the terror violations of our rights by the city police force.

The trial of the Elevator Nine

2007-09-08T15:39:00.000-06:00

Two days ago, I went to the U.S. District Court building on Gold Street in downtown Albuquerque. I was told that the trial was to start at 9:00a.m., so I arrived about that time and luckily found a metered space on the street, just across from the Federal Building. This was one of those new meters in the middle of the block which will take a credit card for up to two hours, so I paid for the maximum. But, as I tried to enter the building, through the security metal detector in the lobby, I was told that the courtroom was full and the judge had ordered that no others be allowed to go up to wait on the hall benches for someone to take a break and vacate a seat. It seems that the trial time had been changed just the day before to 8:30, without time to notify everyone who might show up, and the trial was moved to a smaller courtroom that held only 40 people. Seems the forces of justice are not blind, and they don't want spectators, either. So I joined the few people still picketing out on the curb, since I had two hours on the meter. Pictures below.

Why they were on trial (taken from the flyer)
Nearly a year ago, on September 26th, 2006, nine peaceable residents of Santa Fe, all committed to work onviolently for peace in Iraq and Iran, tried to get to their U.S. Senator's (Pete Domenici's) office to talk to him or his aides about ending the war. They wanted a response to the many requests from New Mexico citizens that he sign the Declaration of Peace. This is a pledge to end the war created by anationwide coalition of faith andpeace and justice organizations, whose local branches, such as Code Pink, Pax Christi and the Santa Fe Monthly Meeting of Friends had repeatedly sought Domenici's ear as our representative in Congress.

On that day in September, to call attention to the issue, the nine of them were willing to remain in his office until he responded, or until they were arrested. After being cleared through security into the lobby of the Federal Building in Santa Fe they were told that the Senator's staff would not receive them in his office. They felt they had the right to be heard and stepped into the elevator to go up to the office. When they pressed the button to the third floor of the building they found that building management had disabled the elevator.

They remained in the elevator, reading out loud the anmes of American and Iraqi war dead, trying to get their message through. Armed personnel, including a SWAT team, cleared the building lobby, blocked the view of their supporters and the press outside of the building and refused to allow them food or water. At the end of the business day, an official of the Homeland Security Agency offered them a choice of accepting a federal citation for failing to obey signs and directions, or of being arrested for trespassing. They chose the citation, knowing they would have their day in court. After a year, the conflict in Iraq continues to take its horrific toll....

The Elevator Nine are: Philip Balcombe, John Dear (a Jesuit priest), Sansi Coonan, Bruno Keller, Jan Lustig, Jordan McKittrick, Michella Marusa, Bud Ryan, and Ellie Voutselas.

Six of the defendants were found guilty of failure to comply with official signs and directions, a petty misdemeanor. U.S. Magistrate Don Svet ruled that while it is their right to seek redress from their lawmaker they cannot break the law while doing so, and they had by "unreasonably" obstructing the elevator.

Sentencing is expected to occur within 30 days. Attorneys Penni Adrian and Todd Hotchkiss, who took the case pro bono, said they expect to discuss with their clients whether to appeal the judge's verdict at a later date.

Each defendant faces up to 30 days incarceration and a $5,000 fine.

In a letter from Bud Ryan, he said,
"I feel like I was kicked in the stomach & now have been let down by every branch of OUR government when it comes to this war - the Executive when Bush lied us into this war, the Legislative who abandoned their Constitutional responsibilities & now the Judicial who basically said that the 9 of us don't have the right to meet with our Senator & petition him against this war & also the Media who many call OUR 4th Branch of Government who parroted Bush's lies & did next to nothing (Amy Goodman et al not included of coarse) to try & expose those lies."

Some blogs to look at

2007-09-03T22:30:00.001-06:00

I missed Blog Day on August 31, but here are some you might want to take a look at:

Chicago Women's Liberation Union Herstory
Stop by http://www.cwluherstory.org/herstory-blog/index.php and comment on the news and opinions we'll be sharing with the world. You'll need to register on the site to comment. We will not share your e-mail address with anyone.
Do you have some feminist news you'd like to share? Send it along and we'll try to include it.

CANCER BITCH
Chicago writer Sandi Wisenberg has been blogging about her battle with breast cancer at http://www.cancerbitch.blogspot.com. You can also listen to Sandi on Chicago Public Radio at
http://www.chicagopublicradio.org/Search.aspx?search=wisenberg

Sandi is a fine writer with a wry feminist sense of humor. Don't miss
the pictures of her tattoos.

Laila Lalami
http://www.lailalalami.com/blog/
She's a Morrocan writer living in the U.S., moving this weekend from Portland, Oregon to L.A., and was on NPR Morning Edition on August 26.

David Barsamian

2007-09-02T15:43:00.000-06:00

On Thursday, August 30, I went to hear David Barsamian speak at the Kiva classroom at UNM. He's founder and director of Alternative Radio, the independent award-winning weekly series based in Boulder, Colorado. He is a radio producer, journalist, author and lecturer. Alternative Radio can be heard in Albuquerque on KUNM on Saturday nights at 6pm (including live streaming at KUNM.org.) His latest books are Targeting Iran with Noam Chomsky, Ervand Abrahamian, Nahid Mozaffari, Imperial Ambitions with Noam Chomsky and Speaking of Empire & Resistance with Tariq Ali and Original Zinn with Howard Zinn. If you go to the website, you can stream or dowload MP3 versions of his recent talks, including one about his recent trip to Turkey, Lebanon, and Syria, KGNU (Boulder), 5 Jul 2007. I haven't listened to that one yet, so I don't know if there's any overlap with his talk here in Albuquerque. This one was recorded by KUNM, so you may be able to hear it in the near future, but the local version will be heavily edited because of time constraints. Maybe the whole talk will be available on his website eventually.

On Thursday he spoke for at least 1 1/2 hours. He was dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt which had a picture of a fighter plane, perhaps an F-16, with the word Democracy above the image, and the words "We Deliver" below it. He opened his talk with salutations in several languages, including Armenian, which is his own ethnic heritage. I took a few notes so I could write about his speech for those of you who couldn't be there. Speaking of the desirabilty of impeachment of Cheney and Bush, he criticized Nancy Pelosi for stating that it was "off the table," eliminating that as a tool of political power. He compared the current U.S. regime to Nazi Germany. I hadn't started taking notes yet, so I don't have any quotes or paraphrases about that.

Regarding Iraq, he said that 70% of Iraqis have no running water. Currently, there is an outbreak of cholera there. Two-thirds of the schools are closed, including universities, and the health care system has collapsed. Eight million people are living in poverty and in need of emergency aid. The Red Cross has described the conditions there as unbearable.

Iran has the second largest oil reserves in the world and the fourth largest reserves of natural gas. The Iranian military budget is $5 billion, compared with the U.S. military budget of three-quarts trillion dollars.

Because we live in the "United States of Amnesia," where the media is a "weapon of mass distraction," he gave a short history of our relationship with Iran, with the globalization of the Monroe Doctrine starting in the 1940's, because "It's in our national interest." He satirically cited the conquering of Grenada being one example. The U.S. has four percent of the world's population, consuming 30% of the world's resources.

Throughout his talk, Barsamian referred to G.W. Bush as "The Great Leader," making reference to the manner in which the North Koreans refer to their own leader. However, having recently read the latest Harry Potter, my thoughts turned to The Dark Lord, He Who Shall Not Be Named.

Barsamian closed his talk by read a poem by Marge Piercey from her book, The Moon is Always Female.

The low road

What can they do
to you? Whatever they want.
They can set you up, they can
bust you, they can break
your fingers, they can
burn your brain with electricity,
blur you with drugs till you
can't walk, can't remember, they can
take your child, wall up
your lover. They can do anything
you can't stop them
from doing. How can you stop
them? Alone, you can fight,
you can refuse, you can
take what revenge you can
but they roll over you.

But two people fighting
back to back can cut through
a mob, a snake-dancing file
can break a cordon, an army
can meet an army.

Two people can keep each other
sane, can give support, conviction,
love, massage, hope, sex.
Three people are a delegation,
a committee, a wedge. With four
you can play bridge and start
an organization. With six
you can rent a whole house,
eat pie for dinner with no
seconds, and hold a fund raising party.
A dozen make a demonstration.
A hundred fill a hall.
A thousand have solidarity and your own newsletter;
ten thousand, power and your own paper;
a hundred thousand, your own media;
ten million, your own country.

It goes on one at a time,
it starts when you care
to act, it starts when you do
it again after they said no,
it starts when you say We
and know who you mean, and each
day you mean one more.

See my videos on You Tube

2007-07-24T00:12:00.001-06:00

After going through more changes, downloading editing software so I could convert my .mov video files to .avi or .wma, and then compressing, I finally uploaded a video I titled "Belly Dancers - 1". The URL for you to see it is http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vt3vo7unLoo , and there will be more later for you to see. My task now is to try to embed it into this blog, but I don't know where to put it in the HTML, so for now, I'll just enter it here. Nope, that won't work. Have to go ask my guru.

Later (9-2-07):
It was suggested to me that putting videos on my blog will slow down the blog loading, so I'm giving up on that idea, although I now see a button to click for adding a video.

Video frustration

2007-07-22T12:19:00.000-06:00

Ever since I learned that I could take videos as well as stills with my little digital camera, I've taken some clips here and there, where I thought it would be interesting. I started when I was in Cuba last January, and saw programs of the children's theater group, Las Colmenitas, and performances by the Psycoballet. More recently, I've recorded some African dancing at the National Hispanic Cultural Center, as well as during a performance at Rodey Hall, at UNM. And yesterday, I recorded a spontaneous performance of the Rogue Bindis, dancing to Le Chat Lunatique during a free concert in Old Town Plaza. Full of enthusiasm, I ran home and tried to upload the clip, and another one of the little kids dancing after they've seen the belly dancers. Then I fund out that there are limits to the size and length of videos that can be uploaded to Youtube. I haven't made sense out of it yet, but my clips are 2-3 minutes long, but high resolution, so it takes hours and hours to upload them, if at all. I have one working right now, and we'll see if it works. I did upload one of only a few seconds as a test, and that was successful. It's of little Emma running away. You can see it at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ndE9hdfwCZk

Meanwhile, I came upon a Michael Moore interview by Keith Olberman which was interesting. If you want to take a look go to

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m-XQ8nfnye4&NR=1&v3 on YouTube.com
I'll write another post if I'm successful in uploading my own videos.

In Debt We Trust

2007-05-28T12:45:00.000-06:00

I went to see the documentary by this name yesterday at the Guild Theater, and afterward looked up the website of the campaign to reduce individual debt and the abuses of the credit industry. I found this document about credit cards, which I share with you:

www.StopTheSqueeze.org
www.InDebtWeTrust.org
Top Ten Tips to Stop the Squeeze

1. Do not pay membership fees. There’s no reason to. Either call your customer service representative and insist that the fee be waived, or find a better deal atconsumer-friendly http://cardratings.com.

2. Reduce your bank credit accounts to a maximum of two. One for a monthly balance: a no-frills card with low interest (under 9.9% fixed or 7.9% variable). Theother to be paid off each month: a higher interest rate card with benefits like free car rental insurance or annual itemized statements.

3. Make sure the “grace” period is at least 21 days. And resist frequent flyer reward programs with membership fees unless you charge over $2,000 per month. In general, the best rewards are cash-back programs–-at least 1.0 percent of all charges--with some over 2.0 percent after exceeding a specified level. If you choose a “free” gift, make sure that the delivery fees are modest or you will “eat up” your hard-earned points.

4. DEMAND a lower interest rate. Call your customer service representative and bargain over the phone. Play hardball and insist on talking to a supervisor--the worst they can do is say “no,” and that’s unlikely.

5. Lock in a fixed rate account now. Interest rates are likely to continue to rise, including home mortgages.

6. Look out for the “bait and switch” maneuver. If the credit offer sounds too good to be true, it probably is. Make sure that the credit card you receive is the one you applied for by carefully checking the terms--and if it isn’t, demand the original terms or cancel the credit card immediately.

7. Monitor “fixed for life” interest rates. It’s not unusual for the 3.9 percentage rate that you started with to jump to 28.9 percent simply due to rising balances on other bank accounts or being late by only one day on a single payment–-and we have the U.S. Congress-sanctioned “universal default” provision to thank.

8. Check for “tiered” interest rates on your account balances. Oftentimes cash advances, normal purchases and low introductory “teaser” specials are charged at differing rates. Keep in mind these short-term rates can expire and leave you with a large balance at the higher rate.

9. Cancel unused credit accounts. You may have accounts open you don’t even remember, like store credit cards, harming your credit score. Check your free credit report at www.annualcreditreport.com and cancel the most recent accounts first.

10. Don’t even think about a credit card “benefit” program. These unemployment and disability programs are pricey and worthless. Use the premium you’re NOT paying to pay down balances instead.

Adapted from Credit Card Nation, by Dr. Robert Manning

Adding a Twitter badge to my blog

2007-05-28T01:04:00.000-06:00

If you scroll down to just under the Amazon button on the left, you'll see a pink square that I've added to my blog, which is just a quick 140 characters to let you know what I'm up to in a brief way, when I'm not necessarily writing a blog about it. I found a Twitter badge on my cousin Henri's blogsite, http://henrikaufman.typepad.com/eclectihklog/, and investigated further to see how it works. You can sign up on twitter.com to be a twitter friend. I'm not sure how that works exactly, except that you probably can log in to see what I'm doing, and add what you're up to. There's also an IM feature, but I haven't signed up for that yet, since it doesn't use either MSN Messenger or Windows Messenger, but AIM messenger. I don't know how many people use that one. Let me know what you think. For those that use telephone text messaging, you can do that, too, but I resist that one, especially because there is a money cost associated with it, a charge from the phone company.

Friday, from Korea (June 24, 2005)

2007-05-14T23:55:00.000-06:00

This is actually something I wrote in 2005, when I was in Korea, but before I had a blog:

Today I went on the tour to the DMZ, quite a bizarre trip. After leaving from the campus, it took us 45 minutes to an hour to get to the Sofitel Ambassador, which apparently is the headquarters of the the tour company, where we picked up our tour guide, and trainee, and a few more tourists not from the conference. We stopped in the restroom while we were waiting, as it would be another hour before a rest stop. So then we got to a place, I think it was Paju, where there were refreshments stands of all kinds, some kind of carnival, dozens of little kids on field trips including some cute kindergartners, I think, with matching backpacks. Up on the hill was a temple-like structure with a bell, but since I'd seen that before, I didn't go up the steps. And it was already getting really hot. Soon we were on our way again, but it was only a few minutes until we turned off to the restaurant where we had lunch. Luckily, they had a table that 4 of us who couldn't sit on the floor could eat at. We had Bul Go Gi, and the usual side dishes, but not as many as at other places. After an hour, we were on our way again, but this time, a short time later we stopped at Unification Park, where there was a monument to the 1st infantry of the Korean army that fought in the Korean war. Then a warning that we had to stay on schedule and keep up with the other bus, which was filled with Japanese tourists. Soon we started the bizarre series of entrance requirements and checkpoints in order to get to Panmunjom, the DeMilitarized Zone. Passports checked again. Clothing and shoes check for conformity to the dress code, which meant no sandals, no denim of any kind, no bare shoulders. A woman was wearing a denim hat for the sun, and had to take it off. Another woman was wearing a denim skirt, with a stylish design, but she had to take it off and put on a skirt provided by the tour guide, kept in a bag for such occasions, with long pants, and extra shoes.

. We were taken into a small auditorium for a briefing, with the Japanese tour group in the front, and us wearing headsets so our tour guide could go through his spiel in English. It was informative by uninspired, and probably written by someone in the military. We had maps with lines and arrows to illustrate the history of the beginning and end of the Korean War, from the U.S. point of view of course. I kept thinking that when i got home I'd have to re-read Han Su Yin's book, The Morning Deluge. Mao Tsetung and the Chinese Revolution; 1893-1954 (1972), which is written from the Chinese point of view. For some reason, I can't find it on my shelf right now, hope I didn't lend it to someone who didn't return it, and had to Google her. Born in 1917, she is still alive, and apparently wrote more books than I knew of, including some recent stuff. But, I digress.

After the briefing we changed to another bus, a military vehicle, which was boarded by our military guide in camo fatigues, a young guy named Fernandez from San Antonio, who'd been there 21 months and had a transfer to Iraq to look forward to after 3 more months and 30 days leave. He answered some of our questions, but the tour guide still did most of the talking. The military presence is apparently to protect the North Koreans from the crazy tourists, or vice versa. We rode to the edge of the U.N./U.S. park of the zone. I'm not sure why they call it the demilitarized zone, since it is in fact totally militarized. Don't know what it means, but I didn't think to ask. It's considered a combat zone, so only infantry is stationed there, no women as support staff. Of course, besides the U.S. Infantry, there are also the ROK or Republic of Korea troops, who seem to be the ones who do the actual hard time guard duty. When we drove up in the parking lot, there was a multi-storied modern building (pictures to follow later after film developed) which was built as a family reunion center, i.e. for families from the north to meet with relatives from the south. However, according to Fernandez, Kim Jung Il is afraid to let his subjects visit there, because they might defect. This also doesn't follow other information, because once or twice a year there's a day designated for families to meet either in Seoul or somewhere in the North. Maybe I got scrambled info. Anyway, the building is basically empty and useless, except to take us tourists to a viewpoint, where we could see the one-story buildings that sit exactly on the border between the north and the sourth at the 38th parallel (the MDL or Military Demarkation Line). I heard it said that this point was picked because MacArthur saw it in National Geographic. There are ROK soldiers who stand in a Tae Kwan Do readiness position, arms bent at the elbows and gripped in fists, so that they can reach their sidearms in a fastdraw situation, and they stand exactly at the corners of the building so that half of them is visible from the other side and half is hidden by the structure. I'll have to check my photos, but I think there are a couple who stand at the entrance, too. We went into the small building, called the MAC (Military Armistice Commission; everything has military initials which I didn't bother to memorize), a conference room with a shiny wood table, and two more ROK troops standing in the Tae Kwan Do position. We were able to get our pictures taken with one, as long as we didn't stand right in front of him. All of them looked like statues, and it's not revealed for how long they need to maintain the position, for security purposes, but we saw the ones outside had shifted position when we walked out. We were not allowed to take pictures outside the building, and were told not to point toward the N. Korean side or grimace in any way. Later we were lead to a tower with a temple-like roof, and we could take photos from there. The protocol is all a bit puzzling, but I did get reprimanded when I pointed to a guard station on the North side, forgetting my manners. On the North side of the conference buildings is another multistory building which the U.S. troops refer to as the monkey building. I missed the explanation while I was taking photos, but I think it has something to do with visual images displayed which are supposed to demoralize the ROK and US/UN troups. In all this time, I never saw sign of a live person from North Korea, altho I was told that I would have if the north door of the conference room was opened. Just now I was reminded of the British TV series "The Prisoner." If any of you remember that one, there were times when the streets were emptied and everything seemed fake, constructed to fool the prisoner.

Speaking of Fake, there are two villages one on each side of the DMZ. The U.S. calls the one on the south side,"Freedom Village," and a few hundred Koreans live there, getting paid $82,000/year tax free to stay there (cable TV available, too). The residents of Taesong-dong (its Korean name) are required to be either original inhabitants or direct descendants of the villagers who were residing there when the Armistice was signed in 1953 It was said that Propaganda Village on the North side of the line is the fake village, because only military troops live there, no civilians, A.K.A. village of Kichong-dong or "Peace Village," as it is called by the North. (I wonder if the TV show was a takeoff on this whole scene.) It also contains the world's tallest flagpole, apparently built in a competitive spirit to be highter than the one on the South side (as in "mine is longer than yours.") It was hazy, so it could hardly be seen, but I took a photo in the hopes that it shows up. There are several guard stations. #3 apparently is no longer in use because everything can be seen from the higher #4, which is where we had our viewpoint and photo opportunity. There's also a monument there to the war itself, and a roadside marker for the 1976 ax-murder incident. According to our informants, the infantry was chopping down a cottonwood tree, because it was blocking the view between guard stations, and the Koreans objected, slithered over to where the work was being done, and brutally murdered several of the men involved, with the axes. Camp Bonifas, one of the locations at the DMZ area, is named after one of them. All this happened near the "Bridge of No Return," a bridge, probably wooden, where the prisoners were exchanged when the armistice was signed.

The tour was closed with a stop at "The Monastery," which has little to do with religion, except perhaps the worship of the almighty dollar, since it's the tourist gift shop. Hard to believe that in a place of such international tension that yes, you can buy a souvenir, e.g. cap, t-shirt, key chain, or lovely Korean jade and amethyst jewelry. Also, you can get a refreshing ice cream bar or a can of iced coffee or tea, which is really a pleasure since it was beastly hot and humid during this whole excursion. Then, back on the tour bus (I think this is where we exchanged buses again), and back on the road to Seoul. Not included in this tour was the underground tunnels the Koreans dug, or the Last Railroad Station, which I didn't find out until I was already on the bus. But then, it was an exhausting day. The tunnels would have been cool though. Maybe next time.

David Rovics Concert

2007-04-14T10:50:00.000-06:00

Last week (April 4), David Rovics came to Albuquerque. He played a concert at the Albuquerque Peace and Justice Center. Even though the price of a ticket was only $5, the audience was small, smaller than when he had appeared in Albuquerque before. Maybe it was because it was in the middle of the week, or because some people had tickets to see Romeo and Juliet at Popejoy Hall, on the UNM campus. Nevertheless, some of the "usual suspects" were there to hear his music. I bought a CD, "Halliburton Boardroom Massacre," since my efforts to download his songs on my dialup connection were too frustrating. Too bad, I forgot to get it autographed. I found out that it comes with a bonus DVD with live performances, but I haven't watched it yet. David saId that much of his music is influenced by Phil Ochs, so if you liked Phil, you'll probably like David. I especially was moved by the lyrics to "New Orleans." There is also a song about Cindy Sheehan, who is quoted on the cover as saying "David Rovics is the peace poet and troubador for our time. Another song is "Tsunami." You can find lyrics at www.davidrovics.com, in the "lyrics and liner notes" section, as well as the "this month in history and song" section. His blog is now at www.myspace.com/davidrovics and is interesting to read. I get some of his essays by email, instead of going to the blog.

Inti-Illimani headlines at Albuquerque Peace Marc

2007-03-24T13:45:00.000-06:00

Albuquerque activists joined many others in Washington, D.C. and other cities around the country in a local peace march on March 17, 2007. According to Allen Cooper's head-by-head count, there were 1200 participating in the actual march, which started at the Civic Plaza and stopped along the way at the offices of Senator Pete Domenici (recently in the news about the U.S. Attorneys being fired) and Senator Jeff Bingaman before ending up at a Peace Festival at Robinson Park. Speakers and poets and musicians, organized by the Southwest Organizing Project, performed at the park. I didn't actually march with the group, instead staffing the Stop the War Machine table at the park the whole time, selling T-shirts and distributing buttons and flyers.

Inti-Illimani, the Chilean musical group performed several songs. They were in town for an evening concert at the National Hispanic Cultural Center, which I attended as well. This is the 40^th year of the groups existence, but only one of the original members is still in the group. The program notes say that the group met in the '60's at Santiago Technical University, where they were studying to become engineers. They formed a musical group

to explore the indigenous cultures of Chile, Peru, Bolivia, Ecuador, and Argentina. In some of the poorest, purest, and most ancient cultures they discovered Andean music, and, in a sense, their roots…

In 1973, Chilean President Salvador Allende was deposed while Inti-Illimani was on tour in Europe. The young musicians found themselves without patria or passport, and Italy became their home for the next 14 years. In 1988, they were warmly welcomed back to Chile, moving home permanently in 1990…

Jorge Coulon, the group's remaining founding member, stated in an interview: "We have never been so political that it was propaganda. We are not a political group in that sense, but we have always been politically engaged. We have a concept of society and about the relationships between human beings, and we try to translate our ideas into our sound, not to be part of one political party or another but in the sense to bring about a better world."

Photo Exhibit in March

2007-02-19T15:38:00.000-07:00

I'm busy these days getting ready for my next show. Here's what the invitations says:

Joan Saks Berman, Photographer

People and Places in World Travels

Artist Reception Sunday March 4, 2007, 10am – 2pm

Exhibit through March 31, 2007

Central Park Deli
918 Central SW

www.joansaksberman.com

I couldn't get the clip art to copy and paste, and don't know how to find it on the computer again.
It's a picture of a globe.

So, come and have brunch and look at the photos. There won't be jazz there this time; it was discontinued because there wasn't enough business on Sunday mornings. But if we fill up the place, maybe we can persuade the owner, Bill, to schedule it again.

I expect I'll be having photos from Cuba, Korea, Africa, France, and New Mexico. A mixture of images. Maybe China and Central America, too.

Fourteen minutes and counting

2007-01-18T21:30:00.002-07:00

Gonna run out of time. Just watched Apollo 13 while I was packing, since I leave for the airport at 7:30a.m. Have to be at breakfast promptly at 7a.m. when they open up. The movie gave me a feeling of how great it is to get back to land after a treacherous adventure in space, but that's not the Cuba experience. I remember, at the end of my 1970 trip, feeling I was leaving home as our ship pulled out of the Havana harbor, and that we were heading back into the belly of the beast. Things are different now, and I'll probably go into them another time, on my own computer, when I have more than 11 minutes left.

Dinner tonight was at La Fermina's, a rather posh place, especially compared to the other places we''ve been at for dinner. It was a private home until 1972, when the residents left for Spain and Argentina. It became a gastronomy school at that time until 1992, when the restaurant opened, but the school continues. We ate out in the patio near the fountain, under the trees. I had brochette (skewer) with shrimp and lobster and vegetables, with a side of Moros y Cristianos and more veggies, for 20 pesos (convertible). Sangria 3pesos. Bread and butter, 50 centavos. Food was excellent, but took forever to arrive at the table, in spite of the fact that there were few other occupied tables. Found out on the way out that apparently a busload of tourists had arrived in the meantime and were sitting in the indoor room, probably slowing up the service. It even took over 20 minuts just to get the bill, and I was itching to leave in order to get back to the hotel to pack. Then it took a while to get a cab. The one that was called by phone never arrived so the doorman had to go out to the street to flag one down.

Spent the day in a workshop with Judy Myers-Avis. It was about Narrative Therapy and trauma with women victims of violence. So, I got to learn some practical stuff about Narrative Therapy as well as applications to working with some of my clients. Afterwards went to a Conversation Cafe. Said goodbye to my friend Mary Mercedes from Camaguey, who had given me a gift of a ceramic representing the water urns typical of the area. Giselda gave me a tiny pot, similar symbolism.

The Emperor's New Clothes

2007-01-17T20:57:00.000-07:00

Starting from the back again, i.e. from now until earlier, we just returned from the Casa de la Amistad, where we had the final banquet of the conference, and an exciting performance by Las Colmenitas, the children's theater group, of the Emperor's New Clothes, in Spanish and Cuban style, with music. I couldn't understand most of the words, but since I know the story, it was okay, and the music was entertaining. After the play, the talented youngsters sang and played other songs and danced, and then invited members of the audience to dance with them. Besides Cuban music, they sang a couple of old American popular songs, including "Let it be!" The program was very lively and went on and on. Some of the kids were really cute and sang with a lot of personality. Looked like they had the potential to be big stars one day.

By the way, it's not really then end of everything, even though it was called the final banquet. Tomorrow is the first of two all-day post-conference workshops. I won't be going to the second one, as I'm leaving on Friday morning.

As we entered the center, we were each handed a Cuba Libre in a plastic cup with a straw. Once we finally found a table to sit at (I was with my new Cuban friend from Camaguey, Maria Mercedes), liter bottles of cola, lemon-lime and orange pop were set on the table, and a tray of entre mesas, i.e. appetizers, were put on the table. Since by then we were ravenous, we indulged in the little shrimp puffs, vienna sausages, little pieces of quesadilla, cheese, rolled ham, etc. Then the entertainment started, and we went through the whole play before getting served our meal. I asked for water to drink, to avoid some of the sugar, and had to pay a peso for a 1/2 liter bottle, which bugged me. I decided to save it to take back to my room, as I was out of water there, having not bought enough earlier when we went to the store (was that Saturday or Sunday night?) near El Palenque restaurant. A plate of salad for the table was brought out, consisting of lettuce, shredded cabbage, and a few slices of tomato, with no dressing or oil and vinegar. Then we were each given a can of Bucanero beer, the kind with pictures of pirates on it, labeled fuerte, because it's 5.4% alcohol, as compared with the 3.5% of Cristal. Bucanero, by the way, is made by a company that is a Canadian-Cuban partnership. Finally the main plate was brought out, with a chicken leg and thigh, a heap of Moros y Cristianos, the black beans and rice dish, and french fries that were cold. By then, having eaten the appetizers, I wasn't really very hungry any more, and saved half the chicken portion in a plastic bag in my purse. Since I have a refrigerator in my room, I can save it, and maybe skip lunch tomorrow, or save it for the trip home. I was too full to even try much of the salad, although I ate all of the rice and most of the fries. Then dessert was served, large containers, about a pint, of Alondras brand ice cream in plastic containers with little pink plastic spoons. I only ate about half of it. We were supposed to have coffee, too, but it never came. We danced to the music near our table. Seemed like everyone had way more energy than I did.

The morning excursion was to the Community Mental Health Center of La Playa, with Dr. Ernesto Marzoa, director. Turns out, he was apparently the one who started the ball rolling on getting this conference organized, by sending an email to David Epston in Canada. He gave us the basic rap about the Center while we stood on the front porch of the house, as the weather got warmer and I got sleepier. When we entered the house, we were in a painting gallery, with works by some of te patients were displayed and were for sale. I bought two small paintings by a woman with purple hair (later was told she's well known) for 5 pesos each. Then in the next room were more paintings, larger in scale, priced at 25 Convertible pesos each, and the two best ones were snapped up by another member of te group. I contented myself with taking photos of the works on the wall, so at least I can show them to people. They're a sort of folk art. Someone else had some carved wood pieces hanging one the wall.

Upstairs in the center was the farmacia, which consisted of a collection of Bach flower remedies which are dispensed with by the pharmacist, the psychologist, or the psychiatrist. The psychologist said that they've also copied the Bach remedies and make their own production.

Briefly, because I''m getting tired and it's 11:30 at night, the afternoon was spent in a formal presentation in rapid-fire Spanish about the psycoballet, with mostly Cubans in the room, so I had to sit next to the translator, who was very good. Afterward, there was a performance out in the hall by some of the students who had performed the night before at the theater, with their parents participating. I used my digital camera to take movies this time. I don't know how well it will come out, since this trip is the first time I tried that feature of my camera. I'll have to go back to the manual to figure out how to upload and download and edit the clips, as well as to figure out if there's a way to pause the recording without turning off the camera. I'll have some extra frames, since I thought that taking my finger off the button would pause it, but I was wrong.

Until tomorrow, since I still have a few minutes left over on my card, unless I use them to look at email.

And a good time was had by all

2007-01-15T19:00:00.000-07:00

I didn't finish writing about yesterday, but I'm falling behind, so I'll write about today and try to catch up later. I'm writing off the cuff today, while yesterday I had written it out by hand first. I just came from an opening night reception, where we had a plate of Cuban style hors d'oevres (sorry, that's French; I don't know how to say it in Spanish) and a rum drink, and either a can of beer or a refresco (soft drink). There was a band playing for us by the name of "Dulce Maria y Son de Cuba," also known at the "Dulce Maria Rooftop Band," since that's where they usually play. They didn't have CDs with them, but will bring some by the hotel tomorrow. They have two, one of traditional Cuban music and another of more modern dance music, including salsa, which is the one I plan to buy.

The day started with my picking up my registration packet at 8:30, before I went in to breakfast. Only a short line then, and I was following the suggestion of Michael Kemmer, the Canadian who organized this conference, in order to avoid a line. But there was a problem; I had been given the wrong color coded name tag, which was supposed to indicate which days I had paid for, including one post-conference workshop. I got a green one and it was supposed to be red, and it was supposed to let the security guard know that it was okay for me to be there today. So Kim took my tag and asked me to come back later for a new one. By the time I finished breakfast, the line was down the hall, but I crowded in past those who were waiting and went to the head of the line. Another person who was waiting was Mr. Love Chile (pronounced like the South American country), who also had a name tag problem. He's originally from Nigeria, but lives in Auckland, New Zealand now and works with refugees and immigrants, people from Iraq, Afghanistant, etc., and even some from Viet Nam. Anyway, after waiting a little, I told Kim I was going to my room to get organized before the opening session, which was supposed to be at 10. When I came back, the tags were still not ready and we had to wait a longer time. Meanwhile, the registration line was long, and people were working two at a time to hand out conference packets and name tags. I finally got mine after 10, and as I started down the hall to the convention center, which is in the next building and connected by a pedestian bridge lined with art work and shops, I met some friends coming back who said the start time was pushed back to 11. Nevertheless, I continued on to the meeting hall, so I could get a seat with a strategic placement for photography, sound recording, as well as being able to see the projection screen at the front. In fact, most of the good seats were taken already, saved by people's jackets and briefcases, while they went out to the hallway to chat with others. The program was very interesting. There were a lot of speakers, some Cuban, some Canadian, including the Minister of Public Health of Cuba, Jose Ramon Balaguer, and the Alexandra Bugailiskis, the Canadian Ambassador to Cuba. One Cuban psychiatrist, Dr. Luis Calzadilla Fierro, talked about the Caballero of Paris, his most interesting patient, who lived on the streets of Havana, apparently having had a psychotic break after being jailed shortly after his arrival in Cuba. The talk was illustrated by slides that are published in the book he wrote about the man, something to look up when I get home. There was also a cultural presentation, i.e. singing and dancing that involved the whole audience, by the Cuban Children's Theater Company, "La Colmenita" ("The Little Beehive"). There was also a cultural presentation of Psycoballet by little children, a preview of a longer program later in the conference, and a film clip from the documentary "Cuba Mia,"showing the women's orchestra Camerata Romeau. There will be a performance by them at the end of the conference, but I'm leaving during the previous day. I heard that it's available on DVD, so that might be another thing worth looking for when I get home.

We had lunch on the lower level, in El Bucan, for 7 pesos, which included a piece of mystery meat that may have been a chicken patty, but rather tough, a heaping serving of rice, and a vegetable medley. Fresh rolls and butter were served and a small salad consisting of a couple of tomato slices and cucumber slices. We were each entitled to a drink--mine was Cristal, a Cuban beer--and desert was guava in the consistency of apple sauce, with a slice of cheese stuck in the side of the small bowl.

At 3pm we had the afternoon session, with the Cubans getting part one of an introduction to Narrative Therapy, and the non-Cubans having their choice of several workshops on Cultural Approaches. I went to the one on Wome's Issues/Women's Programs presented by a representative of the FMC (Federation of Cuban Women). It was interesting to see what the progress and changes were since I was here in 1993 and had a presentation at FMC headquarters. Alicia Gonzales, the presenter, said her powerpoint was available and she took m card to send it to me, so I might post it here later. I also took notes in the dark while she spoke, so I can add some of that later, perhaps when I'm not spending 5 Convertible Pesos per hour. The exchange rate, by the way is one peso to about 80 U.S. cents. All the other times I was here it was roughly a one-to-one exchange, but it's no longer the dollar that is desirable to Cuba, and they tax the exchange extra. One of the other workshops was Cuban Psychotherapy Approaches, but I couldn't be in two places at the same time.

Tomorrow, the foreign participants will go to site visits on buses, leaving at 8:45a.m. I'm thinking of going to a House of Guidance for Women and Families, thus continuing the theme of today. This is a community outreach project developed by the FMC, which is the largest voluntary organization (NGO) in Cuba. One of the other choices is the Psychiatric Hospital of the City of Havana, but I've been there twice before, so I'm looking for something different.

I only have 21 minutes left on this card, so i think I'll go and look at my email. I'm trying to figure out how to use the 3 minutes left on my card from yesterday, since I think it takes that long just to log in. Ciao!

Greetings from Havana's Hotel Palco

2007-01-14T21:08:00.000-07:00

I'm here for the Narrative Therapy Conference sponsored by the World Psychiatric Association. The conference doesn't start until tomorrow morning and there's a walking tour today at 4pm, but I'm free until then. I'm sitting around the pool and there are only two other women in area, so I guess everyone else is off being tourists. I decided to save my aching body until the walking tour, and rest, recovering from the arduous trip here.

I left home on Friday morning and changed planes in Dallas. After a 2 1/2 hour layover, we boarded the plane for Miami, and then sat on the runway, prisoners in a sardine can, for another two hours, waiting for clearance to take off because it was raining and there was no visibility. The man in the seat behind me said that sometimes the Dallas airport closes because of rain. Then, when we finally took off and drinks were served, by the time they got back to row 49, there were no more snack packages available and I was offered M&Ms or a cookie for $3! I told the flight attendant that I was outraged that they had the nerve, after being cooped up for two hours to run out of snacks and wanted to charge for something to eat--it should be free. She wouldn't budge on the price, though. I'm thinking I should write to complain to American Airlines.

I had arranged to meet an internet friend for dinner when I got there and in spite of the delay, she waited to hear from me. I had used my cell phone to call her after we were on the plane for 45 minutes and holding. So, it was about 10pm when she picked me up from the airport hotel, Miami International Hotel. By then the Peruvian restaurant and others she had suggested were closed, so we went to Flanigan's, a sports bar in the Coconut Grove neighborhood where she lives. Her daughter was our chauffeur. The food was fine--I had a salad with a tuna steak on top of it, grilled rare, and then the three of us shared a Bonzai Brownie dessert, with vanilla ice cream stacked in a tower over a large brownie, with decoration and elaboration. The problem was that the place was so noisy that it was hard to talk, with the crowd trying to talk above the sound of rock music.

By the time I got back to the hotel and into bed, without changing into nightclothes, it was 1:40a.m. and I put in a wakeup call for 4:15 a.m. I was supposed to check in at 4:30 for an 8 a.m. flight, but I figured 5 a.m. was soon enough. So, I paid $160 for 2 1/2 hours of sleep!

When I got to the check-in place, there was already a long line including mostly Cubans going back to visit family. Many of them were carrying duffel bags full of gifts, and were having them wrapped in plastic by a man and a machine for $9 each. I didn't think it was worth it, since I had a lock on my suitcase. Maybe it was something that was necessary for traveling to other countries, as some of them were in the same line, or one next to it.

The flight from Miami was 40 minutes. Waiting in line I met Karen from Virginia and on the plane met Sue and Vanessa from Philadelphia. Sue is a lawyer working on mental health rights cases. Vanessa is an African-American with long braids who is a social worker, teaching BSW.
Once we got off the plane, we had to wait two hours to go through Passport Control, and my back was already hurting. We met other women going to the conference and they said Andreas, the only man, must have gone through earlier. We were able to change money in the airport. Marazul Tours, I had bought euros in the Miami airport to avoid the extra tax on dollars, but only exchanged some of them in the airport, thinking I could change more at the hotel if necessary. Before we could leave the airport with our Havanatur bus/van we had to wait for a couple of women who had been taken in to an "interview," because apparently the airport personnel weren't informed about the conference. I had been asked at Passport Control how many were here for the conference, which I didn't know. She apparently thought we came as a group, but finally asked if we came from different places (I think she said "otro lados" or something like that) which I affirmed. She also asked if it was my first time in Cuba.

When we checked in at the Hotel Palco, I went to lunch at the poolside grill--the dining room buffet wasn't open--and then went up to take a siesta. Lunch was grilled fresh fish and a serving of rice in the shape of a cartoon bear's head, accompanied by a Cristal cerveza. After my nap, I took the 3 p.m. hotel bus with the others to Old Havana, with a guided tour in Spanish from the driver. The hotel is in Miramar, once an exclusive section of the city with old mansions and casinos from the 30's, 40's and fifties. The oldest mansion, from the 20's, was being renovated. It's called the House of Green Tiles.

We were dropped off just a stone's throw from the Malecon, and were told he'd be back at 5pm. We were just outside a children's park where there were blow up toys for jumping--I can't think of what they're called, something like a moonwalk. One was like Noah's Ark.

More photos from France

2007-01-03T09:51:00.000-07:00

Last night I added another 100 photos from my trip to France to www.picasaweb.google.com/joansaks, having had them scanned by the photo department at Costco. I haven't added captions yet, so ask me if you're really curious. I'll have still more to show you, but I'll probably have to add them to another website, because I think I've used up my disk space on this site. Or, maybe I can upgrade.

The Truth About Truth or Consequences

2007-01-01T20:12:00.000-07:00

Thursday, November 23, 2006
10:20 PM
Thanksgiving in Truth or Consequences

So, now begins my mini-adventure. I’m in a motel called Charles Motel and Spa. It was probably built in the 30’s or 40’s. I got here a little after 6pm, having had my usual difficulty getting everything in the car and on the road. I’m not happy with this laptop computer. I thought that after I paid $50 to fix it, I’d keep it a while longer, but the keyboard is still hard to work, especially the space bar, so it really slows me down. Also,for some reason, the external mouse isn’t working. I’ll have to try reloading the driver, but I don’t understand why.

I’m also not happy with this motel room, and I may ask for a change tomorrow. The office was closed tonight. The bedside lamp didn’t work, so I unplugged it and plugged it in another outlet, and it works. But then, if I want to use it for reading, I have to sit in the recliner armchair, which had to be moved. It has a good TV, with cable, but the remote doesn’t work. Some of the rooms have kitchenettes, and I was expecting to have a refrigerator to put my food in, but no kitchenette in my room. I don’t know if that means that I have to pay more, but it doesn’t hurt ask. The multiple channels available on the cable might be my downfall, because it might help me avoid doing some of the reading that I’m planning. Right now I’m waiting until the Spanish language religious program goes off, so I can see what the Israel News program is about. Out of the corner of my ear, I heard him talking about Bar Mitzvas and Bat Mitzvas, in Spanish. Hmm! It’s on God’s Learning Channel. There’s a promo on About the Hebraic Christian Center, where one can study about the Jewish roots of the Christian faith.

So, another thing I’m not happy about is that the indoor mineral baths are not entirely free, as I was told on the phone. The guy who signed me in tonight said that with the room, its only free for a half hour a day, then it’s $4/hr, although I don’t know I’d want to stay in that long at one time. The outdoor pools on the roof are$8/hr. the temperature is 112 degrees, which sounds plenty hot. Hard to stay in for a long time.

I talked to a couple of guys who were sitting outside another room (the weather being warm enough to sit outside in the evening). One of them is from Minnesota, and is here for a month. He was full of information about health food stores, yoga centers, and a coffee house where they serve lattes and espressos and other gourmet coffees, and have music, but they’re only open from7am to 1pm M-F! I guess my schedule tomorrow will be to sleep until I wake up, have free cup of coffee in the lobby while I read my email , maybe after I find out about changing my room, using the wireless connection there. Oh, I should have asked if there was a wireless connection in the coffee house. Then I can go to Broadway Barbecue for a good greasy spoon breakfast for $2.99, and maybe then to the coffee house. Lunch is a maybe, depending on what time I have breakfast. Perhaps a walk or a drive around town to see where everything is, including the 11 or 12 art galleries. By the way, the motel is right across the street from a supermarket, and there are some places in town that have organic fruits and veggies, so I could buy some bananas, and other fruit for snacks. Then a soaking in the afternoon, with a massage after that, and then maybe a nap. For dinner, I might go to Los Arcos, where they have steak and lobster. Hopefully, I can avoid the TV, although "Numbers" is on tomorrow night. Tonight I watched CSI and Shark. So I’ll have to be disciplined if I’m going to get some reading done.

Time out to watch Israel News.

Friday, November 24, 2006
6:21 PM
I just spent the last three hours in relaxation mode. Then I figured out that I should spend sometime writing, and go for dinner at 7pm, so I can be back at the motel by 9 pm in order to watch “Numbers”. Then I can write some more. Of course, by that time, the lobby will be closed, so I won’t be able to use the internet wifi connection. Meanwhile, Fresh Air is on; Terry Gross is interviewing Robin Williams, so I’m multitasking.

I went for my soak at 3pm for a half hour. I didn’t bring anything to read, because I thought that it would be hard if it was like a jacuzzi, but instead it was like a giant bathtub, with a slant for reclining at one end. So, when it’s filled up enough, I can lean my head back and the water comes up to my ears, and my neck and shoulders are in the hot water, which you can’t do in a regular hot tub, and I would have been able to hold up a book or magazine. Oh well, there’s still tomorrow. Then after the soak, I had an hour massage in a dark little room with an antique dresser with a candle burning. Art works on the wall as well as images of muscles and bones, like in an acupuncturist or chiropractor office.

After talking a bit to the same neighbors I met last night, I came into my room for a nap. I had already plugged in the table lamp next to the bed, with the help of David from Minnesota, and my computer, so it could charge up the battery. While I was in the bathroom, I heard a buzzing, and sure enough, the outlet shorted out again. The handy man was away for a while, but while I was in the lobby, I talked to the owner on the phone, and she told me there was another outlet near the window, where the air conditioner is, hidden by the curtain. So, I came back, tried to take a nap while listening to ATC on my walkman. However, I was disturbed by someone yelling “NO!” outside my window. It was the maid, and someone else, yelling down the walk to the handyman who was flipping switches at the breaker box, trying to find the right one. Finally, at 6pm, I decided to get up and write.

This morning I went back to sleep and got up about 9:45, put on my clothes and went to the lobby to voice my complaints. Was told there were no other rooms available for tonight, but I could move into room #15 with a kitchenette after the occupants check out by 11am. (when I spoke to the owner, she agreed that it was fair to not pay the extra money, given the inconvenience I’ve had). Had a cup of coffee, the last one in the pot.

Then I went to Broadway Barbeque for breakfast.

It was pretty crowded when I sat down in a booth, and I noticed on the menu that breakfast was only served until 11am. By the time the waitress came to take my order, it was one minute to, so I had to make a quick decision and ordered huevos rancheros. While I was waiting the place emptied out and other people came in looking for lunch. It seemed that I waited a long time for my order, and when I noticed the waitress serving someone who was seated after me, she said my order would be up soon. When I finally got it, it wasn’t worth waiting for. The green chile was suspended in a white sauce, like a white gravy, with a orange/yellow cheese melted on top, and the waitress warned me not to touch the very hot plate. The green chile could hardly be detected, and the tortilla under it was a little like a cardboard flavor. The fried potatoes were passable.

Saturday, November 25, 2006
12:46 PM

Sitting in the Coffee, Tea or C coffee house, where I just got done reading my email. Since I’ve been sitting here today, Valentin came by on his way home from Las Cruces, planning to soak for an hours with his wife, and later Melanie Baise and Lia Rosen, who are here with Elizabeth and Amy and their families. Right now, Ed, the architect with whom I chatted yesterday, is sitting on the couch, and the PTSD guy with a cane that I met yesterday just left, after having bent Ed’s ear about how he got shot, etc. I only heard part of it. This does seem to be the happening place. People sit outside in the sun. Ed is here because he came to take care of his father. This is actually where he grew up. His father had moved away, then came back to retire here . Dave, the guy who owns the place, is a computer engineer who wanted to get away from the L.A. rat race and long drives to work. His girlfriend runs the thrift shop next door, where I bought 5 pieces yesterday, for a dollar each. Bret, who works here, is a recent arrival from Philadelphia, a skinny Jewish guy with a gaunt face. He says his being thin is genetic; his father is like that, too, and he eats a lot just to keep up his weight. When he gets off work, usually around 1pm, although I think later today, he draws cartoons or pen and ink art in general, and plays music. I heard him say something about trying to find a name for his band. His birthday is today, and there are a couple of balloons that say it.

I never got around to writing more last night after watching “Numbers” on TV. I was too tired, and thought I’d go to sleep early, but as it was , I flipped through the channels and found “StarTrek, New Generation,” again, and ended up watching the next episode, ending at midnight. Then I thought I’d get up early and write, but I forgot about it this morning when I woke up at 7:15 to go to the bathroom. I thought it was too early, and that I’d got back to sleep, but later turned on the radio to help lull me, and at 8pm Weekend Edition came on, so I listened and dozed until almost 9, forgetting about writing, etc.

So what did I do yesterday? After breakfast, I came here to read my email, but didn’t get very far, because Ed came over to chat, and then they closed. This building used to be the Hot Springs National Bank, and there’s still a vault, and photos of it from the 50’s on the wall. Then I went two doors down, to Dixie’s thrift shop, where everything was on sale for one dollar.

I rode around for a while, including over to the State Veteran’s Hospital, which is the old Carrie Tingley Hospital that Rudolfo Anaya wrote about in Tortuga. Next to it is Veterans’ Memorial Park, where now resides the replica of the Vietnam Memorial in Washington. I’ll have to go back there later to take a look at the view around it, which I didn’t think of when I was there. This town reminds me of St. Remy in that everything is in a circle. As you come into town, the main street splits into two, with each part going one way, through the main part of downtown, with streets cutting across between the two.

In the afternoon it was pretty warm, so I stopped back at the motel and changed into my shorts. Today isn’t as warm—67degrees according to the sign I saw—and it’s breezy, which makes it seem cool. I went back into town to the old 1939 post office to see the
WPA mural there, and photograph it. Turns out, there’s a newer, bigger post office at the North End of town, and this one is mainly for people who have their boxes there. I didn’t think to ask if there was house-to-house delivery as well. Afterward, I walked across the street to the visitor information office, which is in the Geronimo Springs Museum (cost $3, maybe I’ll stop by on Sunday), to pick up some literature on the local sites. Next to the museum is the Las Palomas Plaza, with mosaic structures over and through which there is water from the springs running.

By then it was time to return to the Charles for my soak and massage, after which I laid down for a nap.

In the evening, I went to Los Arcos for dinner. The parking lot was full, and when I entered, I found out that it would be an hour wait for dinner. The Maitre d’ recommended La Cocina as my next choice. It was crowded in there, too, but the rush was over, and I was able to get a small table, although there was a family that was waiting for a table. In spite of the name of the place, the hostess confided in me that she wouldn’t order the New Mexican food there, and would stick with the steaks. There were a few seafood items on the menu, including mahi mahi. I ordered prime rib, with a salad and baked potato, and beans with green chile, and a glass of the house merlot. The salad came soon, with a large slice of red tomato and three slices of avocado on top of shredded lettuce. When the prime rib came, I thought she had made a mistake and given me the larger size, but was told that the larger size was thicker. I wasn’t as hungry as I thought I’d be, in spite of the fact that I hadn’t had lunch after my late breakfast, and ended up taking home about half of the meat, some of the potato, and the roll, which she had forgotten to bring earlier. I hadn’t seen the beans on the table, since they were on the far end of lot of stuff. I took one taste and decided to not take them with me as the chile was too hot. It looked like the same white sauce as I had at breakfast, but more piquant.

This morning I went for breakfast at the Sunset Grill, which was another one recommended by neighbor for breakfast, and didn’t remember to stop for a free cup of coffee in the motel lobby. Before going for breakfast, I moved into room #15 after the others checked out. The kitchen is actually a second room, with a table, etc. Minimum plates and utensils, but I put my food in the frig and left. The maid put a clean bedspread on the bed, with a nicer design on the bed, which looks like a queen-size.

The Sunset Grill had a quieter, nicer ambience, with the usual breakfast fare, although I don’t remember seeing huevos rancheros on the menu. None of the breakfast combinations were exactly what I wanted, so I ordered separate items, 2 eggs over easy, 2 sausages, and 2 pancakes, eliminating the toast and the hashbrowns, and the bacon, although I could have eaten that. Not quite as filling as what I had the day before, when a large flour tortilla had rested, folded, on top of the huevos and chile. I don’t think there were even any tortillas on the menu at this place, although the waiter, a tall guy with straight blond hair, new to the area, offered a side order of chile, which I declined.

Later…
I rode around town a bit, taking some photos. I found murals on the Sierra County Administration Building, so I photographed those.
Also drove around the back part of town, near the river, past the Ralph Edwards Park, and looking at other spa motels. According to the tourist brochure, there are nine public bathhouses in the town. Most of those in the historic district were built in the 1920's. Most of them look rather funky. The luxury version is the Sierra Grande Lodge, which was one of those featured in an article in the Crosswinds Weekly (now defunct). It has an adobe wall around it, so I couldn't see the actual building, but it has been recently renovated and upgraded. I thought that it would be best to stay there when I had a companion to share the cost. I think it was the Fire Water Lodge Bed & Breakfast that was recommended by Dave at the cofee house. I'll have to check. The rest of the town is rather unassuming, small houses and mobile homes, although I didn't drive through the part of town closer to the Interstate and the new post office.

In the evening, I went to Los Arcos for dinner. This time I called ahead, and had the maitre d' put my name down on the waiting list, to give me a twenty minute head start. He had suggested that yesterday. I got a small table back in a corner next to one of the arcos (arches), but with a light fixture above it, so I could read the menu. They were saving the larger tables in the center for larger parties, and in fact, most of them were filled when I came in. The service was excellent and friendly. I ordered the minestrone to start, since I thought I could get the green chile corn soup other times and places in New Mexico. The gracious waiter offered a small taste of the latter as well, and I agreed. Instead he brought half a bowl out, and it was very good, but I refrained from finishing it so I would have enough appetite for my steak and baked potato. I had flirted with the idea of ordering lobster, but then decided that it's best not to order seafood in the middle of the desert, although I have done so in Albuquerque. The waiter contended that there have been well-traveled guests who proclaim their seafood the best they've had, but I didn't want to take the chance, at the price on the menu. Warm bread was served with the salad, as it should be. Too often lately, I've been in restaurants which don't bring out the bread basket until the main course is served. The meat was a thickly cut piece and done medium rare as I had ordered it. The vegetables on the side were an interesting medley and cooked al dente. Everything was excellent, including the glass of pinot grigio, and there was no room left for dessert. By the time I returned to the motel, I was tired, but unable to resist the lure of cable TV and stayed up to watch another episode of "Star Wars: The Next Generation" on the sci-fi channel.

Sunday, November 26, 2006

White Coyote Café

The White Coyote Café was another place recommended for breakfast. I had stopped by there yesterday, to see what it was like, and was told there would be pecan pancakes for breakfast on Sunday, so I was looking forward to that. However, by the time I arrived for brunch, after having my last soak and checking out of the motel, there were no more pecan pancakes. I was able to order lemon French toast, and that was tasty, although I was disappointed to have missed the pancakes. It took longer than I thought to place my order and get the plate on the table, because in this small restaurant, there's only the owner/cook and one waitress. The waitress was out when I arrived because she was driving an elderly customer home. That's service you don't see in Albuquerque! I bought a cranberry and pecan scone to take with me for a snack on the way back to Albuquerque. After I finished my meal, I went across the street to visit the resale shop that I could see from the window, which had paintings of a tree and other things on the metal roof of the building. There was a large collection of vintage clothing, but I wasn't in the mood for shopping. I made one last stop at Coffee, Tea or C to get one for the road, and headed out of town.

I decided to take a side trip before leaving the area and turned down the road to the Elephant Butte Dam.
I had never seen it before, only the lake that it forms. It was built on the Rio Grande River as a WPA project. There were photos of the lake at Los Arcos which showed how the level of the lake had receded as a result of our long-enduring drought. I continued to follow the road to Engle, a ghost town which was once the population center of the area, having been established in 1879 as a railroad station. Miners and others arriving in the area would then go to Hot Springs (former name of Truth or Consequentces) to relax in the hot mineral waters. Supposedly there are two wineries there and its Old Schoolhouse, but I was disappointed when I got there. I didn't see any signs indicating where the wineries were. At the end of the road there were a few buildings, but now sign of life, and a sign saying it was private property, no trespassing. There was another road that was perpendicular to the highway I was on, but I didn't see much as I drove down it a little in one direction, and it turned to gravel not far down in the other direction. According to my map, it wasn't going to help me return to I-25 for the rest of the way home, so I backtracked to the turnoff for the town of Elephant Butte. The road to Engle is also known for the best view of the Jornada del Muerto, known as a dangerous segment of the migration route that Mexican settlers used to travel northwest. (I think I also saw a reference to the route of the Spanish conquistadores.)

I don't remember that there was a town of Elephant Butte when I drove to see the lake before. I'll have to check on Google to see when it was established. It obviously is there to serve the tourist boating and fishing population that fills the area in the summer. On Fourth of July weekend it becomes one of the biggest towns in New Mexico, with campers and tents and boats. There are a number of gas stations and shops selling boating equipment, etc. After stopping to fill my tires with air, I headed towards I-25 and back to Albuquerque.

Random musings about snow and winter

2006-12-23T13:20:00.000-07:00

What can I saw about snow? It's cold and wet. Falls from the sky and may be either powder or packing snow, good for snowballs and snowmen. Powder, I guess is a skier's term, and the skiers are happy to see a big snowfall. However, the people who got marooned at the Denver airport because of 18-20inches of snow, for 5 days! Weren't happy. Camped out on the floor of the airport, and apparently the first ones to leave when the airport opened were first class passengers on a Frontier airlines, which left the peasants grumbling. Snow and the subsequent snowmelt provides much needed water for us folks here in the high desert, so we'll all be grateful come dry hot summer. Snow caves—the guys who got lost in the Cascade mountains of Oregon built themselves snowcaves for protection from the elements. I don't know how they did that. One guy was found alive in a snow cave and one body was found inside one, but the other two were never found and I think they're just about ready to give up the search. So, snow, that sweet, gentle, pure thing can also be treacherous and deadly. Curtis said something about how it purifies the air, etc. Ha! I remember snow in Chicago, sitting on the ground for a few days, becoming crusted with ice and soot particles, as if someone had sprinkled ground black pepper on their snocone or ice cream. And slush as it melted into puddles. Slippery. In need of galoshes, a wonderful word. There was a TV news reporter who go the name, Jeff Galoshes. Can't remember his real name now. Chicago, snow drifted high enough to bury a VW beetle. A side cross cut of the car when the plow came through, but then the owner had to spend a few hours out in the frosty cold digging it our from the front and back and the other side, so he could use his horseless carriage. At least when they really were carriages, they were kept in the barn with the horses. After a big snow during those three bad winters before I left Chicago, the heat from the apartment building would melt the snow on the top, causing it to run off the roof and form icicles. I still have photos of six or seven foot icicles hanging from the gutter, next to my postage stamp sized backporch on the third floor. Of course, going down those outside steps was pretty dangerous. Good thing the front steps are inside in Chicago apartment buildings, and it's the janitor's job to shovel the walks up to the street. But then one has to dig one's own car out. I remember people putting folding chairs in the space after they pulled the car out onto the street, so no one else would park in the space they worked so hard to clean. Then there were fights when someone broke the unwritten rule, and I even heard of gunshots being fired in such disputes. Ursula Le Guin's novel, Left Hand of Darkness, there's a whole society on the planet of Gethen that's built around the never-ending winter season, where the snow piles up so high that they have to build houses with doors up at the roof level so they can get out. Other social features related to development in a land of winter and snow, but I can't remember them right now. Maybe you, dear reader, would care to make a comment if you can remember them. I did go out on the street and take photos of snowtrees, so I'll upload a few for your perusal.

My Last Days in Paris (back in September)

2006-12-14T23:18:00.000-07:00

Wednesday, September 13, 2006

1:25pm:
I'm sitting in a creperie near Sacre Coeur, Montmartre, eating a crepe with apricot jam. Lots of tourists milling around. I took the Monmartrain up from Place Pigalle. I don't know where I should go from here. This tourist stuff is getting tiring. As I was mounting the steps of Sacre Coeur, it occurred to me that I should have asked
Peggy R or her daughter Jill what their favorite places are, since Jill used to live here. A car with a chauffeur just drove by, the
man in the back on his cell phone. That's one way to be a tourist.
Then a Smart Car drove by. I can see that they'd be popular here,
where the streets are narrow and the parking spaces hard to find.

On the tourist train down from Montmartre, I met a couple from
Australia. They recommended the Musee Picasso, so I decided to go
there. I knew the two subway stops near there, but I couldn't figure
out the best way to get to either one, because neither line connected with Pigalle. I asked at the Metro ticket office, which is also marked "Information." The young woman looked it up in her information book and directed me to Champs Elysees, which is really nowhere near either Chemin Vert or St. Paul. I showed her where it
said those two stops on my map of Paris, so she had to call somewhere
before she would agree with me. Finally, I got the right connection,
much simpler than I would have figured out. When I exited from the
Metro at Chemin Vert, there was a sign right there that took me past
a Supermarket as well as a park.

Back at the apartment: The boys are here so now I've met Tom, too.
He's studying Spanish in school and is a fencing champion. I'll get to
stay here at least one more night because Tim agreed to sleep with
Tom in his room. We're waiting for Henri's nephew from San Francisco
to arrive for dinner. Elizabeth is reading a book titled Dressed for
Winter, and Henri is preparing the food. The boys are playing video
games.

The dinner guest was Antoine, Henri's brother's son. Antoine currently lives in Mammoth Lake, California with his wife and two little kids. He's been in the U.S. about 12 years, formerly working as a translator in the movie business. Now he has a crepe business, doing catering and branching out to hotels in ski resorts, etc. it was very interesting to hear him talk about it. He made a lot of effort to include me in the conversation, speaking in English for me from time to time, making sure I understood what was going on, especially when telling his own life story. Freely translated and summarized, it follows below.

His mother took him and left his father when he was about seven or eight years old, and he hasn't seen his father for 30 years, although he has tried to contact him several times. His mother died when he was 19 and his grandparents on her side died within the same year. He was studying to be a lawyer, and for a while lived on income from his mother's share in a business, until his stepfather, who was also sick, ran it into the ground and suddenly Antoine had is "first bankruptcy" and $100,000 in debt. I guess the debt got resolved legally, but now he really was on his own. He traveled to Israel for a couple of months, and some other places, and eventually to California, where he lived with his first wife, Kitty. He is married to his second wife now. She is French and her parents live in Strasbourg. That's where they've been staying since July, planning to be in France for four months, although he said he may have to go back to the States early because of some new business possibilities that have come up. He came to Paris to see some friends and family, and is rollerblading through the streets as his main form of transportation. Sounds like an ideal plan for someone who knows the city. He avoids getting stuck in traffic as well as not having to make one's way through the mazes of the Metro.

The other guest for dinner, unexpectedly, was Gautier, Henri's oldest son. (He has five boys in all, from two different relationships, and the oldest and youngest were present at dinner.) Gautier is a lawyer who works for some big company (I heard words like patrone and facture in the conversation), but I gather that he's essentially independent of the company, but does their legal work, and the clients are his clients. I think he said that he sets the fees and I guess his boss gets a percentage. There was something like 4000 euros for the office but I didn't get the specifics. He came in wearing a suit and tied, but soon became decravate, i.e. he took off his tie. He's youngish looking, so I assume he's in his 30's, with dark curly hair, and handsome and boyish-looking.

For dinner, we had Henri's homemade squash soup (his own recipe), made from a large squash he had bought at the farmer's market when we went on Saturday night. The main course was sliced flank steak with herbs rubbed on the outside, lightly grilled on a stovetop grill on the fancy stove, accompanied by meat ravioli that Henri bought ready made and heated up. The meat was barely cooked, brown on the outside and pink, then red, in the center. It was eaten with dijon mustard or mint sauce by some. Red wine was served, of course. Dessert was little cookie/pastries, round sandwiches with flavored cream in the middle and frosting on the top, in caramel, coffee, chocolate, strawberry and pistachio I sampled several, for research purposes, of course.

I exchanged cards with Antoine and also with Gautier. Antoine expressed interest in meeting again in the U.S. he didn't leave until midnight, while Henri was falling asleep in his chair.

Thursday, September 14, 2006

My main task today was to buy some flowers and deliver them to Sylvia, Henri's secretary, who succeeded in finding the number of the Bordeaux cell telephone office and getting my passport back. It may not have been necessary if I had listened to the message myself or read the text message but what's done is done, and I didn't have cell phone reception in either Plum Village or in St. Remy. As Henri said, "if I could put Paris in a bottle." Since Henri's office is near the Eiffel Tower, that was my destination, except that it was overcast for a good part of the day and not worth the money to go up. The other idea I had was to go to Ile St Louis where Notre Dame is, but go to Saint Chapelle instead, avoiding the long lines, advice from the Aussies I met yesterday. I almost feel like this is forced tourism—how could I be in Paris and just hang out in the apartment? After stopping at the office to drop off the potted flowers I bought at a florist near the apartment (apparently, florist shops don't deliver in Paris), I went across the Place (tried crossing without a light, but that's taking one's life in one's hands) to the Musee de L'Homme. The tickets were reduced price, because some of the rooms were closed, and I should have taken that as a hint. The exhibits were a lot about genetics and how people around the world turn out different, but basically very pedantic and boring. So I left the building and walked out on the Place (I want to call it a plaza, Spanish style) and took photographs of the golden statues with the Eiffel Tower in the background, and tourists sitting and strolling. There were some breakdancers entertaining the crowd, with a boombox for music. As I walked down the steps toward the tower, I recognized the place as one I had been to with Mary and Richard in 1989, but we came from the opposite direction. At the bottom of the steps was a carousel, also good for some photos. After I crossed the street and walked around the base of the tower, I stopped for some ice cream at a refreshment stand near the river. I decided that I was too tired to go all the way to Sainte Chapelle, another long subway ride, and instead took a boat trip on the Seine. There were only three other passengers, a grandmother, mother, and child, if yo don't count the pigeon that alighted on the bench that I sat on. It was very calming and peaceful; I always enjoy boat rides. After it was over, it was sun was going down and I figured it was time to return to the apartment, a trip which took 45 minutes to an hour.

I just started reading one of Seth Grodin's books that are on the "coffee table" in the living room—Henri has piles of books and paper on it, like he did in St. Remy. I guess it's his style and one that I feel comfortable with. Anyway, this book is
All Marketers Are Liars. His first book was Purple Cow. The one I was reading is very simply written, in language any idiot of CEO could understand, and somehow compelling reading. I must have spent 15 minutes with it before I forced myself to stop so I could start writing in my journal.

The rest of the evening was spent packing up my suitcase, getting ready for my departure the next morning. When Henri came home around midnight, we tried to figure out how to get to the bus that went to the airport. Henri thought there was one in the quarter where the apartment was, but according to the information line, the only one left from near the Opera. He tried to order a taxi for me at the right time in the morning, but was told to call back in the morning.

Friday, September 15, 2006

The last morning was something of a disaster. Henri tried twice to order a taxi, and was told both times that there were none available. So the only thing to do was for him to drive me to the bus stop at the Opera. We struggled to get my suitcases down the stairs—he referred to the large one as a dead elephant—and he had to walk to where his car was parked and meet me at the corner, so he wouldn't have to ride in circles around the block on the one-way streets. Driving in rush hour traffic in Paris requires daredevil courage and a good dose of assertiveness, as other cars cut in on roundabouts and traffic is heavy all the way. I finally reached my destination as the bus was boarding, and I was on my way. I suspect that Henri was glad to see me go, after all the aggravation. Charles de Gaulle airport is a good way out of the city, and the ride took about an hour. The rest of the trip was routine. I didn't cash in my euros, thinking that either my friend France could use them on her next trip, or I could use them when I went to Spain in 2008 for the next International Interdisciplinary Congress on Women.

Benefit for El Salvador

2006-12-14T22:52:00.000-07:00

Tonight I attended a benefit dinner at a Salvadoran restaurant in Albuquerque's South Valley. The benefit was to raise a scholarship for a campesina from the northern mountains of El Salvador to attend the National University. The informational leaflet distributed read as follows:

"Few young people of the Segundo Montes Community and neighboring communities of northern Morazan, located in one of the poorest areas of El Salvador, have the possibility of attending university. There are no government scholarships and few families can afford tuition. Most universities are private and there is only one national university with two branches.

"Morazan was one of the areas of El Salvador that showed incredible resistance to military policies of genocide during the war years of the 1980's. the children of those parents, who survived the war by embracing and sustaining comunidad as a source of hope and liberation, carry forth that commitment by continuing to organize through the Los Quebrachos Youth Center. A 30 member scholarship committee from this organization selects applicants for a scholarship. We have requested that the scholarship be given to a young woman because of the need to develop future women leaders.

"Because the student must travel to San Miguel to attend university, room and board is necessary. Therefore the scholarship for each year costs $2,200."

Besides a tasty Salvadoran dinner served to the benefactors, there was a program of poetry and music. The music was provided by Chuy Martinez on guitar, and his companero on the harp. The poets who read their work were Demetria Martinez, Margaret Randall, and Renny Golden. It's interesting how people's paths cross again. I knew Renny years ago when I lived in Chicago, and encountered her earlier this year in Albuquerque, when we both attended a peace march. She lives here now.

Catching up

2006-11-11T11:29:00.000-07:00

This morning I finally added to the post about Paris, on my first morning there. Still have a few more days to add, until the Paris part of the trip is complete, so keep logging in.

Last night I went to the Nationa Hispanic Cultural Center to see and hear "Sol y Canto," a dynamic musical group from Boston. They've been here before, but this is the first time they performed at NHCC. Brian, the musical director of the group is from Placitas and Albuquerque, and Adela Amador, of Amador Books, is his aunt. She and Harry were in the audience of course.
Last week, on Saturday night, I went to the same venue to hear Wynton Marsalis. I had always missed him when he'd been in Albuquerque before, by being out of town. Really an exciting concert!

Audio Project

2006-10-25T22:46:00.000-06:00

I'm starting my own little audio project, using the recording feature on my digital camera to record public lectures of various kinds that I go to. Tonight it was a program of the United Nations Association, Albuquerque, NM chapter on "A Global Focus on Women." It was a panel of four people , including two OB-GYN docs, the Execuive Director of Peace Craft and Earth Hero, and a professor from the Dept. of Biochem at UNM School of Medicine. I don't have the technology to put it on the web as a podcast, but if you know how, let me know. If you are interested, I can make you CDs of the program (it takes two), which I can send to you if you cover my expenses. I don't know yet how much the postage and envelope and discs will cost.

On Sunday, I went to the National Hispanic Cultural Center to hear a lecture as part of the Latin American Poster series (current show in the main gallery). The speaker was Ilan Stavans (Jewish Mexican teaching in the U.S.) I don't know the name of his talk, but it was based on his essay in the catalog for the show, and talked about the connection of wall art, posters, and graffiti with social and cultural change, etc.

I also have Nancy Hollander's talk on NSA warrantless eavesdropping from October's ACLU meeting, and Amy and David Goodman from their appearance at UNM. Other titles available on request.

See photos from France

2006-10-14T13:18:00.000-06:00

In order to upload a lot of photos, I've put the photos from France on a new photo album website. I'm still working on it, but you can see them at www.picasaweb.google.com/joansaks. Click on it and take a look. Choosing the slideshow option may be the best way to see them all.

Not all phone companies are equal

2006-09-23T19:53:00.000-06:00

This is a cautionary tale. I know that here in the U.S. it's important to check out different mobile/cellular phone companies before deciding on the one to subscribe to, because not all of them may meet your particular needs, e.g. regarding national coverage. But I didn't translate this knowledge to my experience in France. I bought a used phone over ebay that was gsm unlocked, so I could buy a sim card in France and have personal telephone service. It cost me about $23, and I didn't get an instruction book with it. When I got to Bordeaux, I went to a Tabac, a tobacco store,because I was told that SIM cards could be bought there. The one I went to, near my hotel, said they were out of them, but suggested I walk down the street into the Centre Ville pedestrian shopping area and I could find an SFR store. SFR, I found out later, is the French affiliate with Vodafone network. So I did that. Didn't find anyone on the store who spoke English, but I negotiated the business successfully, I thought, in French. Paid 45 euros for a phone number, and a SIM card that gave me a month's worth of phone service (only about 30 minutes worth of calls). I made a point of asking if this was good for all of France, and was told yes. However, as soon as I got to Plum Village, I found out that I didn't have any service there. Then later, when I got to Henri's house outside of St. Remy de Provence, I got a message that said Emergency only. So the phone was practically useless for me except when I was in Paris (I didn't have any calls to make when I was in Bordeaux. Then, when I got to Paris, I tried to set a personal ID number for accessing messages, and the instructions were all in French. Then I tried to access the messages that appeared on my phone, which were from SFR and in French. Had to ask someone to listen to them for me, and to help me set up my PIN number. Turns out that the SFR office in Bordeaux hadn't returned my passport to me, after asking for it for identification, and were sending me messages that they had it. I hadn't needed it so far, so I didn't notice it was missing, but I was going to be heading home in four days, so I had to ask my cousin to help me get it to Paris in time, and his secretary successfully searched for the phone number of the Bordeaux office and had them send it to his office. Since I got home, I tried going to the company's web site to write a letter of complaint to them. However, every time I clicked on "contact us" I got directed to a page that had nothing to do with contacting them. After I complained about my lack of service to Nicole, a French friend, she said she would have recommended another company, Orange, which has better coverage.

Social Activist is Proposed for Sainthood

2006-09-17T18:51:00.000-06:00

This is out of chronological order with my previous posts, because it's not about France (I'll add more on that later). It's a book review which I submitted for a monthly contest of the Southwest Writers, and I won an honorable mention, so I thought it was worthy of posting here. I have also submitted it as a review to Amazon.com

Social Activist is Proposed for Sainthood
Book Review by Joan Saks Berman

As I was thinking about writing this review of Rosalie Riegle's book Dorothy Day: Portraits by Those Who Knew Her, I started reading Mary Pipher's newest book, Writing to Change the World. She quotes James Baldwin:

You write in order to change the world, knowing perfectly well that you probably can't….The world changes according to the way people see it, and if you alter, even by a millimeter, the way…people look at reality, then you can change it.

Pipher says, "Good writing enlarges readers' knowledge of the world, or empowers readers to act for the common good, or even inspires other good writing." Just as Dorothy Day wrote her newspaper for these reasons, Rosalie Riegle writes about Day to remember her and her work for the common good, as well as to empower and inspire her readers in the same direction. This is a book of interviews going back to 1988 and Riegle's second book on Day's work, following Voices from the Catholic Worker.

Dorothy Day was the co-founder, with Peter Maurin, of the Catholic Worker in 1933. It is both a newspaper and a community movement. The ideology inspiring it has been described as "Christian Anarchist."

Although I am neither a Christian nor an anarchist, through the years my life has crossed paths with those involved in the Catholic Worker movement. The first one I remember was Michael Harrington, who spent time at the Catholic Worker House in New York in the fifties. He was one of the many people interviewed by Riegle for her book. In the early sixties, he stayed with my husband and me when he came to Bloomington, Indiana to speak for the Young Peoples Socialist League at a public meeting at Indiana University. We stayed up into the night talking about the problems of the world and their possible solutions, and we were fascinated by his stories of his time there. In the sixties, he was a leading socialist and gained national fame with his book The Other America, which is credited with inspiring Lyndon Johnson's War on Poverty.

Another interview was with Karl Meyer, who was householder of a Catholic Worker House in Chicago during the time I was there, and known as a peace activist. While they lived in Chicago, Glenn and Anne, a couple who were among my best friends, visited the Catholic Worker house often. After I moved to New Mexico, I met an artist who had spent time living in a rural Catholic Worker community in New York state when she was a single mother with a young child. Then, in 1996, I met and became friends with Rosalie Riegle at the International Interdisciplinary Congress on Women in Adelaide, Australia. At that time she was already working on this book. Her book has makes me understand her better as well as being inspired by Day and her followers.

Dorothy Day: Portraits by Those Who Knew Her by Rosalie G. Riegle
Orbis Books, 2003, 1st edition, hardcover, 207pp. + index

L'Isle-sur-le-Sorgue/ September in Paris

2006-09-12T14:55:00.000-06:00

Saturday, September 9, 2006

Today, after breakfast and a rest, Henri and I drove to a mall in Avignon (drove on highway A7, the toll road, from Cavaillon) to go to the France Telecom store for a new filter for the DSL line because the Livebox was flashing red. Then we shopped for groceries in a huge supermarket, Auchan. It must be like what a super Walmart is, although I've never been in one, because there were rows and rows of clothing and other things to buy before we got to the food, and that was big too. A whole section of fish and shellfish, skinned packaged rabbit, meats, sausages, one thing after another, and samples to taste, like at Costco. Tasted purple grapes and a piece of ham and another of sausage. Henri bought andouille (dry like a salami, not wet like the one I ate at Le Lezard my first night in St. Remy) and mussels in cream sauce, with fresh gnocchi in a package to go with it. Some pate (a slice). A kind of cole slaw and some shredded carrot salad. I can't remember if there was anything else. Then we stopped at a roadside fruit stand on the way home for lettuce (I think he called it romaine, but it looked different from what I know as romaine) and green plums. While Henri waited in line, I went over to a fragrant tree and took a few photos of the flowers. Another stop at a very classy newer and bigger boulangerie than the little ones I saw in town, for a seeded baguette and a little half loaf of bread with olives in it.

As it turned out, the filter wasn't the problem with the DSL, after we drove 50 kilometers for it, it's the telephone line and they'll send someone out on Monday, which is after we've gone to Paris. So my hopes for a chance to use the internet for this weekend are dashed, and Henri can't work on his presentation for Tuesday to a conference on marketing.

As we sat on the terrace, I saw two lizards (or geckos?) climbing on the wall of the house. Henri said they're George and W. there was one in his bathroom upstairs that he put outside.

I thought he had said that we were going to the antique market in L'Isle-sur-le- Sorgue. The market we went to was a farmer's market, not an antique market. There are many antique shops in the town, but they were closed and we only drove by them on the way out of town. Thinking about it later, Henri wouldn't have much use for antiques, because he designs his own modern furniture and his art is modern as well, especially the cartoons. The farmer's market started at 6pm and the gates were closed till then, with shoppers gathered around the gates until the signal was given (was it a whistle?) to open for business. When I asked him, Henri thought that the market was in the evening so that the food that was harvested that day could be sold at its freshest. Some people come with wheeled baskets, even a woven wicker hamper on wheels. Henri carried a large shopping bag/tote. At this market fruit was sold by pre-measured boxes or basket, e.g. one kilogram, so no weighing went on there. It was one long aisle of sellers on both sides, and I was glad that I took my hat because there was no overhead shelter from the sun. although it was late afternoon already, the sun was warm.

Lots of fruit and some vegetables for sale, e.g. black figs, dark purple grapes, plums in two or three colors (green and purple), strawberries and Cavaillon melons. Some vendors offered small taste samples. There were also several vendors of jams and jellies, and just one, I think, of olive oil. Lettuce of various kinds was there, too and fenouil (fennel), carrots, beans, coco—some kind of bean—in white pods and reddish pods. Henri said there were far fewer people there than in August, when the tourists come, and I was glad because there were still plenty of bodies milling around. A few people had dogs, but not as many as at the St. Remy market.

Henri stopped to talk to a few vendors as he made his purchases, and chatted with the lady who sold jams about her recipe, how much sugar went into each pot (600 grams). Also that she didn't have any grape jelly because there had been a hail storm that injured the grapes. I think he was gathering information for when he next makes his own jam.

We had parked near the end of the market and walked ahead to the entrance gate. This was good planning, since then we were at the car when we had a heavy bag of purchases.

According to the Lonely Planet, this town is a

chic spot known for its antique shops and graceful waterways. L'Isle dates from the 12th century when villagers built huts on stilts above what was then a swampy marshland. By the 18th century it was a thriving silk-weaving centre surrounded by canals ploughed by water wheels powering its paper mills an silk factories.

On Sunday morning its quays are swamped with book and antique sellers and a gaggle of market stalls selling other wares. Le Quai de la Gare,…near the train station, houses 35 antique dealers, and another 100 deal in Le village des Antiquaires,…an antique shopping mall fronted by an 18th-centuray mill. Don't expect any bargains

As we drove out of town, Henri pointed out two old millwheels on the stream that ran through town. Then we went to visit Dominique and Serge, old friends of Henri's who run a chambre d'hote or bed and breakfast, although Henri keeps saying it's more high class than a B&B. The grounds around their house are lovely. They have three dogs of varying sizes, the middle one being a female beagle who is very affectionate now. Dominique said she only has had her for five months, having taken her in because she had been abused and didn't intend, at the beginning to keep her. Thoughts of my poor dearly departed Biko intrude into my mind as I recall what Dominique told me about the largest white dog being shot by a mean neighbor and his need to have surgery because the bones in his shoulder were shattered. I had noticed that he limped a little. I never heard his or the beagle's names, but the smallest dog is called Jaloux, or Jealous.

Before finding out all this about the dogs, we sat on the terrace sipping pastis (my choice) and crunching on tortilla chips, chatting in French with me listening. Henri told about his adventure with the police breathalyzer the previous night. I could understand that, perhaps because I knew what happened. Serge told some story about a divorce, which Henri explained in English to me, I think about some people who had rented rooms from them. Henri leafed through Le Monde and the special magazine section, which was about New York, including an article on the upcoming 5th anniversary of the destruction of the Twin Towers. The dogs were running around playing. At one point, big white dog tried mounting beagle and she ran away from him. Henri said, what's the matter, is she a lesbian?

After a while, as the sky grew darker, Henri asked to use their computer to check his email and, I thought, to look up something for his preparation for his presentation. Dominique and I watched the news on TV. Something about French peacekeepers landing in Lebanon. Something about a demonstration by immigrants, for housing I think. Something about the anniversary of 9/11. and, in interview with Meryl Streep on the occasion of her visit to Deaux about her movie "The Devil Wears Prada," which I guess I'll have to see. This was when Dominique mentioned that she used to work in the fashion industry and it was like exactly like in the book. I don't know if she'd seen the movie yet. Meryl Streep wasn't able to do the interview in French—she had an earpiece for her to listen to the not-quite-simultaneous translation. There was always a pause as she listened to the end of it. Then, as I tried to listen to her response in English, the French over-dub would cut in. It was sort of insipid, with her saying something about wanting to portray that kind of character. Once again I heard the comment from Dominique or Serge that she's in her 50's, maybe 55 years old.

When Henri finished with the computer, he announced that we would stay for a quick supper after all. It was omelette with cepes (a kind of mushroom, translated as cepes in Lonely Planet, but the large ones reminding me of portobellos. We had both red and rose wines, and bread, of course. Salad eaten after the omelette, just lettuce (which Henri had bought at the farmer's market) but with a delicious dressing. Camembert and more bread, one which had been heated in the oven until the crust was crisp. Then we said our goodbyes and left. On the way home, Henri said that he lived next door to Serge for a long time, sharing a wall, for 30 years. Serge had several jobs, the last one was a lab for developing photographic prints for large companies, e.g. ads. The drive back was once again along D99, with the trees lining the road. I noticed as we passed La Galine restaurant along the road that it was lit with colored lights and a number of people were seated at the tables. When we went through St. Remy, a lot of people were in the restaurants, especially Bistro des Alpilles—a busy Saturday night. The horse's head decoration hanging above the street was lighted—very festive. Didn't pass where the cow was, but that was probably lighted, too.

September 10, 2006

My last day in St. Remy. In the afternoon, we went into town. Henri wanted to stop at the frame shop, but it was closed. After all, it was lunchtime, but there was no sign about when it would reopen. Today was the day of the art fair, so we walked around the periferico (the circle street), looking at the various booths with their works of art. In many ways similar to any art fair here, with a variety of quality, but the ambience was more interesting than a mall or the state fair grounds in Albuquerque. After we got most of the way around, Henri stopped in a women's clothing store to talk to some friends of his. Once again, I recognized the story of the problems with the DSL line, and the story about the restaurant and the gendarme stopping the car for a breath test. Then they started talking about other things, and it was too hard for me to follow and I lost interest. Looked around the shop for a while. They had some interesting decorated tennis shoes that were on sale for the end of the season, but even at the sale price, they didn't seem a great bargain to me. Other interesting dodads, jewelry, scarves, etc. Then Henri went next door to another shop with the owner who had been visiting in the first shop. It was an even more elegant women's clothing store. He gave her some tips on window presentation, and about putting the manikin in the doorway more out in front of the shop so it could be see more easily. Most of the clothes were browns and beiges, not my color palette, and probably in sizes too small for me. We walked to where the car was parked and then drove past the frame shop again, which was open this time, so we parked and went in. Turns out H. was picking up some prints by one of his favorite artists, that he had framed, one for himself, and one for Timothee's bedroom.

After we returned to the house, we started preparing to leave that evening, bringing in the furniture from the terrace, closing the shutters, taking out the garbage, taking the fruit and veggies out of the fridge and putting them in bags to take with us to Paris. We didn't have any supper before heading to the TGV station in Avignon in Patrice's cab, so I stashed a few snacks in my bag.

The TGV is the high speed train that takes about 2 ½ hours to go from Avignon in the south to Gare Lyon in Paris. I was hoping that by traveling with Henri, he'd be able to handle my suitcases, but on the way he told me that he had had back surgery and wasn't supposed to lift anything heavy, so I had to struggle and depend on the kindness of strangers. Things was, Henri also didn't seem to realize that because he's so much taller than me, even without two suitcases, I have a hard time keeping up with him at his normal stride. The train was about 15 minutes late, so there was no problem about getting to the platform on time. No sign of any porters to help with baggage. I guess the French are a hardy lot and anybody that's old, handicapped, or clumsy isn't expected to be traveling. That wasn't true in the Montpelier train station, so I guess it varies from place to place, and I didn't really have a chance to ask for porter service in Avignon because I was struggling to keep up. Once the train started going at high speed (after wrestling my bags down the narrow aisle to my seat – luckily we were on the lower level of the doubledecker car), I found out that it was physically a little like flying in a plane. That is, my ears popped, and I had a sinus headache and a bit of nausea most of the way, which I assumed was from the pressure of going at high speed. Tried to keep my eyes closed and meditate, just so I might feel better, so I didn't get much reading done, just a few pages in the newspaper that I still had. Also, didn't attempt to eat my snacks, although I observed other passengers had boarded with bags of fast food and drinks in paper cups.

Once we got to Paris, we went to the parking garage where Henri had his Volvo parked. It was a modern clean garage with a slick polished floor. I don't know what the finish was. It almost looked like some kind of vinyl coating. It was already late, and then a long drive to where Henri's apartment is in the 17th arondissement. Turns out that it's in a building without an elevator, so I still had to struggle to get the suitcases up one floor. Henri referred to them as dead elephants, because of the weight. I got to stay in Timothee's room (since he was at his mother's home), with a window facing the street. You can see some photos taken of the apartment, and the view of the building across the street, once I get the slides scanned. So, with a little bread and cheese to tide me over till breakfast, while Henri started working on his presentation again, I hit the sack.

Monday, September 11, 2006

The day hasn't started out well. Before he left for the office, Henri told me that Timothee will be here at 10am with the keys to the apartment. I was feeling a little like an orphan because there wasn't a set of keys for me and without them I'd have to leave at 11:00 when the cleaning woman left. Henri didn't want me to take her keys. Then, he wouldn't be back until 7pm, so I'd have to amuse myself until then. I had directions to the metro station and that was all. No maps, no guidebooks. Part of that was my fault for not being prepared, but Henri was incredulous that I didn't have a map. He didn't know where to get one because he doesn't need one, but thought that the newspaper stand near the metro might have one.

So, I got up at 9:30 to have some breakfast and to wait for Tim. Meanwhile the cleaning woman had the radio on and told me that another plane has crashed into a building in the U.S., today being the anniversary of the WTC disaster. So far we don't have any more info. Tim didn't arrive until 11 with his buddy, Lucas, carrying bags with sandwiches and fries. I asked Tim to help me with the cell phone and he listened to the messages which had been left for me by SFR, the phone company. It was then I found out that I left my passport at the SFR office in Bordeaux—I hadn't been able to listen to the messages before and besides they were in French. I thought they were just welcome messages so I wasn't worried. I should have asked Nicole to help me when I was in Marseille, but it didn't occur to me since I wasn't able to use the phone in St. Remy, anyway.

Tim called Henri, who was able to find the phone number of the SFT office where I bought the card (with the help of his secretary Silvia), and arranged for him to express my passport to his office, maybe tomorrow.
During all this, Tim and Lucas are in front of the plasma screen, playing a video game with fancy guns, etc. Now I understand more why he's so interested in guns (replicas) that I saw at the house in St. Remy. There's no TV in the house, so I can't watch to see what's happening. The plasma screen is just for games and movies.

The boys have to leave for school again around 1pm. I'll have Timothee give me directions to the Musee D'Orsay and I'll wander around for a while. I'm not feeling very good, a little queasy or shaky, and tired. Didn't get into bed last night until 1:45am. I'm also feeling anxious about navigating on my own in Paris, which is a bigger city than I've had to navigate for a long time. It too us about 45 minutes to drive here from the Gare de Lyon last night when we got off the TGV. Henri's car in Paris is a Volvo, with a fancy dashboard/cockpit. It looked like he had a phone built into it. Fancy radio, too. Wonder if it was a satellite radio.

I hope I can find an internet place some time today. I was thinking I'd have access thru Henri's computer, but of course, he takes his laptop to work with him, and last night he was still working on his presentation for tomorrow. I don't know when the news will be in the papers—maybe this PM in the French papers. Also have to find an ATM machine to get more cash, to pay Henri for my train ticket, about 91.50 euros, and to not run out of cash wile I'm here, although I suppose I could use my credit card more often. My god, the noise from the game the boys are playing! Violent and disturbing.
later...
This was an exhausting day. I hope I can pace myself better tomorrow. I got to the Musee D'Orsay okay, but found out that it was indeed closed on Mondays (Which later Henri said was unusual ecause most museums are closed on Tuesday, meaning I might have trouble tomorrow going somewhere else). There were others who came up to the door around the same time who were disappointed as well. Among them was an Indian couple from near Detroit and I started talking to them about subway maps, etc. Then I asked if I could tag along with them as they went to Hotel Les Invalides, where Napoleon’s tomb is, and they said yes, so I started to learn the subway system again. in wasn’t so interested in that place, having been there before and been less than delighted with it, but it gave me a place to start. I got a 3-day Metro pass—should I have gotten the 5-day? Who knows? In any ncase, there’s no 4-day pass but maybe I can get a one-day pass for Thursday if I need it. Decisions, decisions.

So, we saw Napoleon’s tomb with the aid of an audio-guide which I couldn’t follow, having walked too far into the area before listening to the description outside. It was free with the ticked to no sweat (7.50 euros, no senior reduction). Then we had some refreshment in the cafeteria, so I could finally at 4pm get some lunch—a Pepsi and a ham & cheese sandwich for 6 euros. I had already eaten the rest of the energy bar in my tote bag. Should look to see if I have another one with me, just in case. This irregular
Eating schedule isn’t good for me, I’m sure. Then, we went to the exhibit about the two world wars, which was quit3e large starting with a French defeat by Germany in 1871, and the fall of the Paris Commune. A lot of guns, uniforms, movie clips with English subtitles, posters, photos, miniature tanks, gun turrets, etc. it was on 3 floors of the museum. I was ready to crash by the end. We came out the museum at the side opposite of where we had entered and it looked like the side I had been on when I was there in I 1989—I was looking for the café we what coffee at last time. Walked to the nearest subway. I successfully navigated the change at Opera station and got off at Pereire, which I thought might be closer to the apartment, but when I got out of the station, I walked the wrong way around the circle—I really needed a compass, which wasn’t on my packing list. Maybe a GPS gadget. I’ll have to add it for next time—and had to ask at a pharmacie for the right directions. It’s really hard to read the mapn and always need my glasses. I had asked for help from a woman on the street but she didn’t have her glasses with her and we couldn’t do it with one pair still, I got back at 7pm and had time to rest before Henri arrived about 7:40. I was just wondering if I should try to call him when he walked in.

A little after Henri arrived, and looked on his Mac laptop (white) for news, Elizabeth arrived, and got dinner together. We had mousse de foie gras for appetizer, on bread of course, and the rest of the faux crab salad. Then a leftover roasted chicken heated in a bag in the microwave. Red wine and water to drink. Grated carrot salad and some rhubarb that Henri had cooked (from his garden) for dessert, along wi8th plums and grapes we brought from St. Remy. Later, before bed, we had tisane, which I think is herbal tea, meant to look it up. Henri worked on his computer and Elizabeth and I read.

September 12, 2006, Paris

This will be a short entry; at least until I get home and have a chance to update this on my own computer. I have to get to bed soon so I'll have enough energy tomorrow to be a tourist again. This is the first time I've been in Paris in the last 15 years, and I've gotten so used to the laid back ways of Albuquerque; but my big city skills are re-surfacing. Things like reading a subway map or a bus map. There's a lot to do here, and how to choose without running myself ragged? Some things are bringing up memories of the last time I was here; with Mary and Richard, when they got married. I got myself a metro pass, but it was easier this time; just request it at a ticket window. Last time I had to go to a railroad station where they have those photo machines, and submit a photo of myself for the pass. Today I went to the Musee D'Orsay. Started with an exhbit on the history of photography, then to the exhibit about Rodin and his friendship with the painter Carriére. They often created works on the same subject. Of course I couolldn't skip the Impressionists, and that kept me busy until the museum closed at 5:30, so I was there for four hours! I was plenty tired and my arthritis was acting up as well. Tomorrow, Montmartre

The old Jewish synagog in Cavaillon

2006-09-07T08:49:00.000-06:00

After finishing my last post, I got on the highway towards Cavaillon (sometimes referred to as Kabellon, but I don't know why). I knew it was a highway (D99) because it had two clearly marked lanes and the speed limit varied from 60 to 80 KPH, once time even went to 90. The road was lined with gnarled (knurled, knarred) old trees, giving it the appearance of a country lane. I did fine following the road signs until right as I got to the edge of town, when I turned off the rotary at a sign which said Centre Commerciale. When I didn't come to anything that looked like it would be a tourist office, I asked a roadside worker and he said that it was Centre Ville that I wanted and direcdted me back towards the bridge. Turns out it was the next choice after the place where I turned. Right next to the tourist office is a big, rocky hill (Saint-Jacques Hill) and a parking lot. On the rocks was a plaque that said, in French and Hebrew, that it was formerly the site of the Jewish Cemetery. On the other side of the tourist office on the Place due Clos are the remnants of Roman arches.

At the synagog I got the tour in English from a young woman who is a student, only working there during the summer. Her knowledge of the history and Jewish custom was impressivel. I took photos throughout the tour, which I will post later, starting with the inside of the tower, thought to belong to the original synagogue--the commuinity started there in 1624 according to the pamphlet I got, although I thought I remembered the guide saying the 15th century. Jews settled there because they were under the protection of the Pope at at time when there was a lot of persecution (when wasn't there?). However, they were still confined to a ghetto, which was actually just one short little street, with gates at the end that were locked at night and on christian religious holidays. The guide said that at one time 2000 people lived there, which was hard to imagine in such a small space. The brochure says that in the 18th century the community never exceeded 200 people, but I don't know if that's a contradiction, because of the chronology. Interesting features of the synagogue are a raised Elijah's chair, perched on a high shelf in the corner, and the bema on the balcony, opposite where the Torahs were kept. There were once seven Torahs there, but since the congregation was officially dissolved, they are kept in Avignon. The synagogue in Avignon still functions, as does the one in Carpentras, and they were shown in a movie that I saw later at the museum at the Hotel-Dieu. Don't know if I'll be able to get to either of those, since they're a longer drive from here, and I don't know if I'm brave enough to go by myself. Henri and Elizabeth will be coming back on the weekend, so maybe I can get them to go with me. There was a 4th synagogue in the area, at Lisle-sur-Sorgue, but it was destroyed during the French Revolution, when the revolutionaries turned on religious institutions. In Cavaillon there is still some kind of Association related to the synagogue, but I wasn't clear if the 40 or so members were all Jews, or just interested parties. The Jews that still live there go to Carpentras for services. Actually, the Jewish community dispersed during the time of the French Revolution, since they weren't required to live in ghettos (carriere in French) any more.

After leaving the synagogue, I walked to the Musee de Hotel-Dieu where the archeology museum is. My ticket from the synagogue entitled me to free entrance so I could watch the film about the four synagogues of the Vaucluse, mentioned above. From the Hotel-Dieu (I also looked into the chapel), I went back to the beauty shop I had passed, and found it was a place to finally have my nails done. I ended up costing me 38.50 euros. The rebase technique was a little different from the way it's done at home, including using a pink paste-like gel instead of a powder, and it wasn't smoothed and buffed by the electric drill except for the first time before any application. The ultraviolet light was built into the table and at one time became so hot that I had to pull my hand out. The rest of the time she filed and buffed with an emery board. The products she used were actually labeled American Nail, as a brand. There wasn't much choice in polish colors and I chose a light lilac frosted. She didn't do a great job of applying it, but at least it's done until I get home, since it's supposed to be done every two-three weeks, and was long overdue.

Leaving the beauty shop, I walked back on the route of the walking tour, marked by signs, and apparently walked right past the Cathedral without realizing it. I too pictures of the mural on the school, apparently next door. I did see the back of it and took a photograph. I wasn't much in the mood for seeing a church, anyway, and had earlier passed the Convent. On the way to the Place du Clos I stopped in a bookstore and asked for books in English ("No, desolee"), but was able to get the International Herald Tribune. Getting to the Place, I noted that the tourist office was closed, with metal grilled gates pulled down. Decided to stop at the Café Fin de Siecle for a diet coke before driving back to St. Remy. Sipped and read the paper. On the road once more, I took a wrong turn at the rotary again, but was able to turn around at the next rotary and avoided getting on the autopiste. At this time of day, dusk, they seemed a bit more ominous than before, like gnarled soldiers.

Today, which is the next day, I ate lunch in a little place on Rue Carnot, but I should have gone to the one next door, because this one didn't have outside tables and all the ones under the fan were taken. And then I ordered fish soup as a starter (soupe poisson), which made me start sweating, and I didn't stop till I was out of there. Then I walked over to the Musee des Alpilles and started watching a film about August Grandois (?), an agriculturalist who had a hobby of illuminating manuscripts. His animals reminded me of Dr. Seuss drawings. I saw the exhibit of his work later in the museum. Each of his three daughters died young and he wrote and illustrated their biographies (did the calligraphy, too) which were hung in frames on the wall. Unreadable by me. Kinda sad, though.

I plodded through the antiquities collected haphazardly in the area, mostly Roman relics, bone fragments, pieces of pottery, swords, etc. some pieces of the Arlesian costume and an explication of the hairdo with the ribbon was done. Some info on the area as seed producers for seeds packaged in little envelopes and sent to other parts of the world, which industry got destroyed when the big companies moved in, but I don't remember exactly what happened, just that the local industry disappeared suddenly sometime around 1929. there was also a print shop with a press and cases of type. By that time I was feeling tired and bored and left. I walked past the Hotel de Sade, which is now closed to visitors, and snapped some photos on the way to Biscuit & Biscuit.

I sat outside as I wrote more in my journal, but overheard the owner on the phone, apparently to someplace in England, ordering more plates, cups and other pieces for the pottery painting workshop she has there. Her name is Jill Bennett. I chatted with her a little she came to France from England 30 years ago, and stayed by accident (I didn't press for details). Her deaf old dog is a lassa apso and she doesn't take him to marked because he hates it. She agreed with me, when I commented about all the small dogs I saw there on market day, seemingly frightened and in constant danger of being trod upon by big feet around them. She said most of those were shih tzus. There was a couple in the restaurant where I ate lunch who had one with them and fed him little tidbits from time to time. Before they left, they had picked him up, first one, then the other, and snuggled and kissed him as though he was their baby. After this conversation, it was time to go home and take a nap, around 5:30pm.

Friday, September 8, 2006

This morning I decided to go exploring down the road that turns off across from the driveway to Henri's house. It said on the sign Chemin de Roussan et Cornud and there was another sign with an arrow that pointed to Chateau Roussan. Turns out it's an old 18th century hotel and restaurant and one end of the road (turning left at the T) leads there and dead-ends. A few cars parked in the yard, dark and sad looking place. Turned around and went in the other direction out to a highway, which later I discovered was good ol' D99. from there I just continued following my nose. I went past a mas or farm settlement. I didn't remember what the sign said, but looked it up later and it was identified as Mas-Blank-des-Alpilles. There was a sign at a turnoff for Les Baux which indicated a place for poterie (dang, these words aren't even in the phrase book, but you can guess), but I didn't turn off there. Also went through St-Etienne-du-gres and Fontvielle. Since I remembered seeing the latter name in the Lonely Planet, I parked and looked it up. It's a town of population 3566, famed for its windmill immortalized by Alphonse Daudet in his short stories, Lettres de mon Moulin (1869). There's a museum about him there, but I didn't see a sign for the tourist office or for a mill, so I got back on the highway and ended up in Tarascon, which was on the list for the halfday trip that I never completed after Graveson. I didn't open up that part of the guide book when I got there, so I missed some of the places it mentioned, but I wasn't feeling all that energetic anyway, and would have run out of time.

I parked the car near a big plaza (turned out there's a train station on the other side of it, I discovered later) and took a picture of the small merry-go-round there. No kid—probably all in school--so they were polishing it up. I followed the signs into the old city to the tourist office on foot, and got a map. Didn't feel like going to King Rene's (1434-80) Castle (built by Louis II, decorated by King Rene, but was later stripped and used as a mint and then a prison until 1926), but thought I'd walk around a little and go to the Souleiado fabric museum after lunch. Found the Tarasque dragon in a store window and snapped a photo. According to the Lonely Planet, "Each year during June's Fete de la Tarasque, a Chinese-style dragon parades through Tarascon to celebrate St. Martha's slaying of Tarasque, a dragon that lurked in the Rhone according to Provencal legend."

I came to a sign that said Rue de Juifs and followed down the little loop. No other plaques to identify anything but there was a building rounded at one end, so I wondered about it, as it reminded me of the synagogue at Cavaillon. I asked a woman who was loading or unloading her car, and she thought maybe it referred to a place where there was a market, like Rue des Ouvriers, Rue de Protests, etc. She didn't know anything about an old synagogue. A young woman came out of a house, apparently hearing our discussion. I couldn't make out exactly what she was saying, but I think it was that there may have been something there but she wasn't sure, I should ask at the mairie. If that was in the Hotel-Ville, there was a sign on the door that it was closed today. The tourist office had told me there was a big market today (I didn't think I could deal with it), so maybe that's why.

When I got back to where the car was parked, I intended to go into the supermarket to buy some yogurt and water. As I entered, the woman working there warned me that the store was closing in four minutes, so even the supermarket closes at lunchtime. I didn't want to have to wait until they opened again, so I went in and made my purchases, and wasn't the last one out, although I saw them turn off the lights. I had intended to stop at the bookstore on the way back to the car, but it was already closed when I passed it.

I ate lunch at Le Terminus, taking a chance on the Plat du Jour for 12 euros. Turns out Morue, which I recognized having seen before, but didn't remember what it was, was salty cod, and I had trouble eating it. Boulons was a bowl of snails with aioli. The veggies were a generous helping of green beans, some cooked carrots and a boiled potato. It was the fullest meal I had for the money and they didn't scrimp on the bread, either. But my bargain was lessened because I didn't remember correctly, and I thought the dessert was included, so that ended up costing me an extra four euros for a dish of coffee ice cream, and then three euros for the crème café.

After that, I walked over to the fabric museum and paid a whopping 6.10 euros for the entry, with no senior discount. It was very hot in there, an old mansion (another visitor was fanning herself). It was interesting but not worth such a high price. By then I was worn out and glad to head back, after stopping at an ATM and taking a couple of pain pills for my lower back, always a problem when I'm walking so much.

When Henri arrived for the weekend, we went to eat at the Mistral Gourmand and had foie gras as an appetiser, which we shared. Our main dish wad duck with figs and mashed potatoes and strips of bell pepper, red and green. Wine, of course, and chocolate ice cream with raspberries and carambre (a kind of caramel sauce). I was stuffed, no room for coffee on the way home, we got stopped in front of the police station (gendarmarie) and Henri had to blow into a breath-testing gadget. His passing score was 0.13. 0.25 is the legal limit. I don't know if that's on the same scale as used here. Good thing we didn't finish the bottle of wine or have an aperitif in addition.

Market Day in St. Remy

2006-09-06T06:10:00.000-06:00

I just finished a satisfying lunch at Biscuit & Biscuit, consisting of a homemade tomato and celery soup, mixed salad, cheese scone, rose wine, dessert (I think if was creme fraiche and cherry compote), and now I'm sipping my coffee as I write. I spent a few hours this morning cruising through the weekly market and grazing samples as I went along, a little like a visit to Costco. Now I know why there are signs all over saying no parking on Monday mornings. I started by discovering more little streets of the town, looking for a parking place. I hope I can find my car again (it's a Land Rover, by the way) when I'm ready to go to Cavaillon as soon as I finish writing this. While looking, I also discovered where the post office is, and mailed cards to Chris and Charles. Then I walked to Place de la Republique, which is ordinarily a parking lot, but today is full of booths selling baskets, tablecloths a la provence, silverware, knives, shoes, purses, clothing including jungle-colored fatigues, jewelry, and a big table of cassette tapes and CDs. Everything is expensive here in France, and I've tried to refrain from buying anything, including gifts, but I splurged on a Stefan Grapelli CD and one called Havana Cafe. Two for $28--I actually got a discount by paying in American dollars. The guy selling is going to be in San Francisco in December, so I guess this saves him a trip to the bank, and bank surcharges for changing money.

The weather was still overcast and humid. Other people didn't appear to be suffering, but I had already soaked my turquoise bandana wiping my face and neck. Then I started down one of the streets that goes to the center of the old town from the Place. There is where the foods were being sold. I bought a 1/2 loaf of country-style whole grain bread and a small fougasse, a twisted bread typical of Provence. This one had olive oil and some spices in it. Also available were various cheeses, e.g. chevre and tomme a montagne, for which tasts were available. Lots of soaps made of honey and lavendar being sold all over, as well as bouquets of lavendar (lavande) and colorful flowers. Olives, olive oils, and tapanades. A few meat counters, sausages, and nougats. The Place in front of the town hall had been converted into a marketplace as well, and the booths continued to wind down a side street. Fruits such as white and yellow peaches were for sale, and melons from Cavaillon. Further down were oriental rugs, carved wooden toy animals that made various sounds when you rubbed a stick along their backs, fabric bags and dresses, chinese style shirts from tibet, and hats that looked like they might be Guatemalan fabric. Also saw watercolor miniatures in frames for sale for 16 or 20 euros, notecards and more. I was tired and hungry by the time I got to the tea shop for lunch and internet. Yesterday I wrote more than 5 pages in my journal, but it takes to long to copy it to the blog when I'm paying for it, so that will have to wait till later. Maybe in Paris, when perhaps I can use my cousins computer. Probably will be going there on Sunday evening.

Marseille/ then Following in the footsteps of Van Gogh

2006-09-05T06:46:00.000-06:00

Sunday, September 3, 2006
Marseille

I'm sitting on the the train waiting to return to Avignon and St. Remy. I spent Saturday with Nicole Sarradon, having taken Patrice's taxi to the TGV station. We're rolling now. The train is a double-decker this time. I'm en haut. Lots of graffiti on the cement walls we're passing.

Yesterday, Nicole met me at the station and we went to the fish market and flower market at the old port. We bought some fish for a bouillabaise at night. Nicole's daughter's mother-in-law, who has a stall there, gave them to us as a gift. Then we went to Nicole's apartment to leave my suitcase and then out in the car to Callelongue, all the way to the end of the road along the water to have lunch at a famous restaurant there. As we drove along, fog obscured the islands off the coast. For lunch we shared an anchovie pizza with no cheese. Then Nicole had fried squid and I had a risotto with shrimp and mussels. We finished a bottle of white wine between us. Just as we were looking around the restaurant, we met her friend Joelle, whom she hadn't seen for a long time, and Joelle's daughter Anne, who works for the French version of NPR. They invited us to visit their cabanon (beach cabin) down the street that's been in the family at least since 1926, but we only stayed a little while so we could continue on our itinerary. Both mother and daughter have read a lot of Tony Hillerman's books translated into French, as well as Barbara Kingsolver's books, currently on Small Wonders, the book of essays written after 9/11. I suggested Marge Piercey to them and they already knew Doris Lessing. Nicole was amazed that these books has been translated into French and that I had the appreciation of these authors in common with them. She doesn't find much time to read novels. On her train trips back and forth to Paris she often sleeps because she has to get up so early to catch the right train.

From there we drove along the coast to Cassis, and the fog had lifted. Cassis is another tourist town. After leaving the car in the parking structure, we walked down a narrow old street lined with shops selling expensive lingerie and bikini bathing suits, till we got to the harbor. Lots of boats, with sails or motors, looking large and expensive. Lots of people walking of sitting at cafes, although Nicole commented on how few people were there at the end of the season, that maybe they were getting the kids ready for the start of school Monday. After browsing through a few shops, she suggested we stop for ice cream at a famous ice cream shop. I intended to get only one small scoop, but there were so many wonderful flavors that it was necessary to get two scoops. My cone was tiramisu topped with apricot, although I think next time it should be the other way around. Nicole had caramel on the bottom and raspberry on the top. There were were many other wonderful flavors available, too many for me to remember now. After sitting and eating the ice cream and people-watching, we walked down to the water's edge so I could dip my feet into the Mediterranean. The beach was stony gravel and difficult to walk on barefooted. I was sorry I had worn my black leather SAS sandals, because my Crocs could have been worn into the water and my feet would have been more comfortable. The water was cold, but not so shocking as the second and third waves washed up to our ankles.

After we walked a way from the water's edge, just before 6pm, we saw a tourist boat docking and passengers disembarking. On the spur of the moment, we each plunked down 12 euros for a 45-minute boatride through three calanques and it was delightful but a little cool. At that time of day, not too many people were aboard, but in front of us were two younger women from New York, who were glad to hear English spoken and have the chance to ask some questions. Nicole pointed out some of the places she had come to with her family on their boat, and we saw swimmers and sunbathers perched in rock crevices.

Before leaving Cassis, we stopped at a bank machine and then at a little grocery where I bought more Activa and Nicole bought little packets of saffron from behind the counter (to prevent theft) to use in the bouillabaise. After that we started back, but had to stop at a rest area along the road for a little nap. By the time we got back to Nicole's apartment on Rue Fort du Sanctuaire, the boulangerie was closed, as were the gates at Notre Dame du Garde, at the top of the hill.

Back at her apartment, Nicole cut up potatoes and onions, and sauteed them while cutting the fish and cutting off the fins. She plunked them whole into the large pot, added more water, salt and some fennel she had collected out in the wild. I don't know how long I cooked. I was sipping on pastis and water while she was working. Then we had a white wine she bought in the little store while we ate dinner, after 9pm. Dessert was raspberries whe took out of the freezer, a pear, and figs. It was about 11pm when we started to bed and almost 12 by the time I shut off the light.

In the morning, we walked down to the corner to buy fresh bread and croissants. I had wakened around 9 am, having slept in Nicole's room while she slept in the loft bed in the back guest room. Bad choice, because there were vehicles going past the window from early morning, keeping me from sleeping soundly. Nicole and I sat down for breakfast in the patio, enclosed by the building, but open to the sky. Besides croissants and coffee, I ate one of my Activa yogurts with muesli—-really good, and I don't think that kind is available back home—-and some of the fougasse (a lace-like bread according to the phrase book, but more like a large soft pretzel, and typical of Provence). Had about a half slice of ham and some fig jam and apricot jam that Nicole had made.

Nicole started to not feel well and went to lie down on the couch and I cleared the table. She said it wouldn't be good for her to drive me to the train station. Since the last time she had these symptoms (previously diagnosed as vegas nerve malaise), she fainted and was taken to the hospital. So, she called a taxi for me. I got to the station in plenty of time, but without the little side trip up to Notre Dame du Garde, to see the view, as we had planned. We had tried it last night but the gates were already closed at 7:50, even though the sign said they should have been open until 8pm. I never got a chance to check my email, although that was one of the things I was looking forward to doing in Marseille. Another thing I didn't get to do in Marseille was to get a nail rebase. According to Nicole, this kind of manicure with acrylic or gel nails is not as popular in France as in the U.S. She had tried calling a few places on Saturday, but wasn't able to find one that offered the service.

September 5, 2006

I'm in a tea room called Biscuit & Biscuit on one of the little streets in the old part of St. Remy, and I finally found a computer with an American style keyboard! However the @ and quotation marks don't work the right way. Never mind. While checking my email, I sipped on a cafe frappe, a sweetened black iced coffee with foam on the top, and two little chocolate cookies. And there was a fan, which didn't exist at the copy place. On the wall was a sign about a nice little meal including a glass of wine and coffee or tesane for 9 euros, so maybe I'll eat lunch here next time.

Did I mention before that Van Gogh spent about a year or so here, at the St. Paul monastery where they treat the mentally ill with art therapy? Went on a walking tour there a few days ago. Very interesting. (see previous post and scroll down to September 1.) Then yesterday I tried to follow the rest of a tour marked by reproductions of Van Gogh's paintings (they pronounce the G here, by the way), but found it mostly unenlightening. While he was here, Van Gogh painted about 150 paintings, as well as a number of drawings. Lots of olive trees and cypress trees. Today I went to the Van Gogh Centre, Hotel Estrine, where they have more reproductions of his paintings, but I didn't have the patience to read all the captions. Also on exhibit were paintings by two other artists I never heard of before, Edgar Pignon and Albert Geize. They were around at the first half of the 20th century, and were influenced by Picasso and Cezanne, cubism, etc.

This afternoon, I'll drive about 10 minutes to another village, Maillane, where Frederic Mistral lived. Tomorrow is the market in the public parking lot of St. Remy, in the morning. Later I may drive to Cavaillon, to see the old synagogue that's there. I read about it in a New York Times article.

I began to feel deprived of news, since it's too hard for me to decipher on the radio, and I haven't tried yet on TV. Instead, yesterday I bought a copy of the International Herald Tribune, and today a copy of the London Times International edition, which I read at lunch at the Cafe des Arenes. It looks like nothing much has changed in terms of war news, but some of the other articles are interesting. I'm almost at the end of the Kellerman mystery I brought with me, and long ago finished the Betsy James (of Albuquerque) novel. I may have to spend about 12 euros for a paperback copy of a Richard North Patterson novel, or something similar, so I don't run out of reading material for the trip home. There are books at Henri's house, but I wouldn't be able to take them with me, and I haven't noticed any novels in English, although I read a book on blogs by Hugh Hewitt and saw a book about narcissistic personalities in English on his desk.

The plat du jour today was chicken breast over fresh (cooked) apricots with balsamic vinegar, Indian style rice (cinnamon? raisins?) and a grilled tomato slice. I thought I was going to get something with duck, because that was on another slate, but must have been left from yesterday. Only cost 9.50 euros today.

Since this internet place is reasonably priced (1.5 euros/half hour), I might stop here again in a day or two. By the way, if anyone who reads this has contact information for Sy Marcuse, please send it to me. I forgot to take it with me from home, and I can't remember his wife Anne's last name--the phone is listed under here. Thanks in advance.

At 3:30 I walked back to the car. I could feel the heat of the day. Drove to Maillane and joined a tour of the house of Frederic Mistral already in progress, in french. Others on the tour included a couple from Scotland who now spend half the year nearby in their own house, a Japanses woman who spoke French, and a French teacher from Novi. Her school is in the family home and provides room and board for the students. She gave me her card. It was 5pm by the time we finished. I got in the car and drove on to Graveson, a little village of population 3190, listed as a place on the half-day tour that I wouldn't mbe able to complete, since it was so late. This time I parked before I got into the very center of town (but not far away), having decided that walking is a better way to find the tourist office and sites of interest. On the way I stopped in a little boulangerie (bakery), carefully passing by the fancy pastries and bought two of the little cookies that are supposed to be trademarks of the area. Got a map with instructions of how to get to the Museum of Aroma and Perfume, but since I could see the Musee Auguste Chabaud , and it already was 5:30 or 5:45, I opted for that, although both were open until 6:30pm. Auguste Chabaud was born in 1882, died in 1955. Not born in Graveson, but lived there with his wife, who was from there. Three floors of his paintings and drawings. Early stuff seemed rather primitive, as in "I can do that." Some nudes and other rather simple subjects. Got better later on. I bought a postcard of his "La Roubine a Graveson" (1912) which shows the canal that runs down the main street in front of the museum. I took a photo of the same scene from the second floor window of the museum, so it will be interesting to show them together, if I ever get them uploaded to this blog, then and now.

Leaving the museum, I took a photo of the front of the Mairie, with its multicolored flags. Then realized I could use the local cash machine instead of having to make a special stop in St. Remy. I'm going through cash as if it were water slipping through my fingers, taking out 100-120 euros at a time. I'm paying for most things withcash, because of the high minimum most places have for credit cards. Hopefully it won't cost me as much in exchange fees, either, since I was warned there's now a 3% or $3 charge on paying in foreign currency with credit cards.

After the bank, I stopped in a little grocery store to buy a cold Coke Light (diet Pepsi is almost always unavailable). There was a tall man, bald with a mustache, who perceived I didn't understand French too well and asked what language I did speak and where was I from? He claimed to speak seven languages besides French, including Arabic and German, and conversed with me in English. He said he had family in Pitsburgh and Philadelphia and in Florida. He wanted to impress on the kid who sorked there how important it was to speak English, because one could communicate in many other countries with it. The boy was learning English in school, but couldn't understand what were were saying, or even say "Thank you" to me for my purchase. Pleasant man, but it seemed our small talk wasn't going any further, so I left. Drank my coke and at my second cookie on the drive back to the house.

When I got back to the house, I found out there was no water, so before settling down I had to call Henri. It was a matter of circuit breakers in the pool house, problem solved.

Now that I'm getting braver about driving around, it seems that I spend less and less time at home writing. I look at my days "dwindling down to a precious few," and start thinking about other places I should go. The French teacher urged me to go to Arles, something about a lot of changes or imporvements. I don't know how far it is from here, but not far I think. Snack before dinner was iced coffee and some bread with tapanade and mousse de canard.

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Sunday, January 24, 2010

RAINBOW ARTISTS CELEBRATES 20TH ANNIVERSARY IN JANUARY 2010

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