Crocus Expectations

Spring Break has shed its grace upon us grateful Dominican students, and while I’d love to be telling you that early this morning Cathy, Abby and I piled into the Prius destined for sunnier, warmer climes, it's not without a small measure of regret that I'm now telling you it's simply not the case. For now. At the end of this month we'll be flying with Abby on our laps to Tampa, Florida and from there by car to my parents place in nearby Tarpon Springs, home to an abundance of Greek sponge divers and weighing in with an average yearly temperature of 74.8. I'm definitely wanting myself some 70's just about now!

When we get back it'll be April here in our great city. Crocus's will have already offered some purple exclamations of relief from the drab monotony of the urban winter landscape and, ideally, we'll have had a teaser day or two where warm, moist southerly winds stirred up months of grit and caused an unfortunate percentage among us to reveal their translucent white thighs hauntingly starved of sun. We don't mind, though. That's cool. We all understand the need to ditch the winter coats and expose a little skin to warmth that isn't bone dry forced heat.

It's this time of year that I miss Berkeley the most. Berkeley, home to "one of the world's most moderate climates" and where winter is the green season.

Buoyantly Sneaky Pete

Oh, I'm never taking an on-line class again! Sigh. All this Blackboard posting nonsense (one post by this date, then two by this date in response to what your classmates said before, then start over again and don't pass go) keeps passing me unaware. I'm hard pressed to say why exactly. Like I have some unconscious blinders up-- take them off and I might startle and kick up some dust. I'm haunted by the little note on my syllabus regarding late postings and point deductions. As if it reveals something fundamental about my character. Nonsense, man, pure nonsense, but that's how I churn. I shouldn't care but I do. Way too much. Never used to. Third time is the charm though, I figure. I won't let another get by me. I'll know what's due and when from miles out. For now, we'll just have to sop up our petty sorrows and total possible point obsessiveness and move on. We'll curl up in Garcia's buoyantly Sneaky Pete Kleinow-like pedal steel guitar on Dire Wolf to linger and repose for a while. Really, I've just listened to it three times and I'm now totally ready to get into bed and read about Joy Division. Talk about a double bill!

Taking the Woodpecker Seriously, Not Literally

A few weeks back my parents checked out what my Dad referred to as the "Florida Chautauqua" located in the Panhandle and where, for a few days at least, one can pay as little as $7 to attend seminars on "Taking the Bible Seriously But Not Literally," or "Why Can't I Wear Pajamas to the Supermarket? And Other Pressing Questions About Fashion" among others. My parents enjoyed a Victorian Tea session as hosted by Ellen Mayfield and The Tea Ladies and were randomly seated alongside a couple in search of the iconic ivory-billed woodpecker, which, according to a recent National Geographic, was thought by most ornithologists to have been extinct since the 1940s. That is, extinct until the Cornell Lab of Ornithology, based on "seven fleeting glimpses and four seconds of fuzzy video," announced in April of 2005 that they had "confirmed the existence of an ivory-billed woodpecker flitting elusively through the tupelos along a small Arkansas stream called Bayou DeView." That's it. But it's enough, according to the article, and as my parents witnessed in the couple they sipped tea with, to inspire hundreds of ivorybill searchers (often funded by the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service) to wallow deep into the birds suitable habitats all through the south in hopes that they too might catch a fleeting glance or, better, a definitive snapshot or video of the illusive little pecker.

Marty's Year

I'll be watching the Oscars tomorrow and not expecting much. I willl be drinking Murphy's Irish Stout, however. There will be the typically awkward pre-telecast interviews on the red carpet bluntly attempting to precipitate viewer enthusiasm for the fun to come. In that first hour on the carpet we're to believe that the earnest, self-congratulatory pap that the Oscars telecast will unavoidably descend into will be equal to the suspense and intensity ("Who will take home the Oscar?") of any one of the Governor of California's Cameron-helmed ("I'll be back") films. And while I like Ellen DeGeneres's mellow, gently subversive vibe as much as the next stay at home Dad or retiree, I'm also sad to see the producers deciding that after Rock and Stewart, mildly seditious hosts at best, it was time to return to something cozier and less potentially threatening to the excess of industry glorification on parade.

I'm lucky or cursed by the fact that there are innumerable things that ultimately make the show bearable and, actually, fascinating- but a host willing to take the stuffing out of the gushing grandeur of it all (Letterman's "Oprah....Uma....Uma....Oprah," from several years back comes to mind) helps to lesson the chances of later regretting having spent four hours just to see something as bombastic and saccharine as Crash win for Best Picture. Thankfully it's finally Marty's year, long overdue and all but that's just fine. He gets both Director and Picture this year for The Departed. I don't think anybody thinks it's his best but then, so what- when I saw it at the theater it was the most fun I had at any film last year.

Song Syrup

Some of us explored the International Children's Digital Library for my Collection Development class recently. I'd known about it for a while now but had regrettably never gotten around to checking it out. I'm glad I finally did, since it's lovely and so, so very right. Its mission is simple, noble and the kind of thing that's anathema to an influential branch of the Republican Party that equates diversity with racism and tolerance as capitulation to sin. Still, I'm a fan.

The mission of the International Children’s Digital Library Foundation is to excite and inspire the world's children to become members of the global community – children who understand the value of tolerance and respect for diverse cultures, languages and ideas -- by making the best in children's literature available online.

A classmate brought up an interesting point concerning children and their tactile relationship with books, the sheer joy they experience by being able to hold and manipulate a tangible object. Something, it turns out, adults like to do quite a bit as well. In the digital realm, this gets tricky. ISDL, however, targets children age 3 and up, an age when tactile concerns aren't nearly so potent and commanding. And besides, a lot of today's kids make, I'd hazard to guess, few distinctions between digital and organic text if any. Hidden behind the mission for ISDL you discover that its also acting as a research platform to study and gain a keener understanding of how kids interact with information. This is an equally noble endeavor, and I wondered if it wasn't mentioned in the mission because it's not nearly as wholesome and innocent as inspiring tolerance and respect for our global community. But to their great credit, ISDL encouraged children to create ways to search for books in the Library that were most relevant and exciting to them. That meant being able to search for books with specific character types, books with kids or imaginary creature characters, books with red covers, yellow covers or short books and long books and make believe or true ones. I like that.

The awesome accompanying illustration is by Ali Reza Goldouzian and is taken from the children's book, The Beautiful Pond which was first published in Iran. The accompanying summary for the book reads:

Speckled Frog used to sing differently so the other frogs poured a "song syrup" into her mouth that made her silent. A little fish discovered a flute at the bottom of the pond and brought it to her and asked her to play. Speckled Frog played very well, and everyone in the pond enjoyed her music.

Sigh. If only the Iranians would give up their song syrup and play nice with the rest the world!

A Day In The Life of Abigail Ruby Breitenbach

With any luck, this will be the first in a series of Abby related video exploits. Next up: Abby's Intredpid Adventures With Hans and Bonjour!

Abby's Ferberization

While implausibly adorable to those who know best, Abby's not without features that make her, at times, onerous. Take sleep for instance. Recently Abby hasn't been embracing it with quite the fervency we'd like, waking up sometimes a dozen times or more a night and letting loose a primal, unforgiving howl. I don't know if there's ever been a sound that's made me feel more hollow and wretched. Before this she had been sleeping for the past 6 months reasonably well, from 7:00 pm 'til 4:30 or 5:00 am. Not perfect, but acceptable. About a month ago that all changed. Her molars started to come in (bone pressing up against and attempting to part gums isn't, as you might expect, comforting) and she's excitingly close to taking some cautious first steps on her own. We had no idea, but according to our pediatrician, when toddlers are on the cusp of such a momentous gross motor skill advances as walking they'll sometimes experience near ungovernable urges to stand. At 2 am in the morning. At 3 am. 4 am.

Of course, none of us can take a peak into that little noggin and discern just what's really going on. Night terrors? Separation anxiety? Mischievous sprites? We talked to our pediatrician and one of her peers in addition to weathered folks who've travelled this groggy nighttime road before and concluded it was time to deploy the heralded and controversial Ferber method on her. There are dozens of sleep training books out there and even more theories and expert opinions with ostensibly no distinguishable consensus champion rising from the heap. As a parent, it's easy to fall down the rabbit hole of choices. After some hand wringing, testy parental debate (guess who was the ass?) and the good opinions of others we decided Ferber was good as any. We're deep into the third night and I'm taking the night watch. One rough patch from 9:30 to 10:45 but otherwise not bad. Here's hoping.

Wind Chill: -8

When the Prius just went and glided right on through the stop sign on Bryn Mawr and when I accepted that the road had more control of the car then I did, I resignedly turned around and went back home. It was the first class time I missed a class since returning to school. I had been hoping for a perfect attendance certificate lavish with gaudy calligraphy, a gold star or two, and signed with a flourish by the Dean. I would have framed it and hung it near Abby's changing table.

According to the Tribune:

There were scores—possibly hundreds—of accidents, from spinouts and fender benders to a 20- to 30-vehicle pileup that closed parts of the Tri-State Tollway for hours.

And this:

"There are crashes all over the place," said Illinois State Police Master Sgt. Dave Furjanic. Well before the evening rush had started, police were checking into more than 100 possible accidents throughout the state's tollway system, he said.

Which no longer makes me feel like I had been too meek and yielding before the elements. Winters been putting up a good fight these past couple weeks.

Emulsified

Both Abby's Great-Grandma and I have a weakness for Keebler's
Fudge Shoppe Fudge Sticks. It's all about wafers and creme, or at least obscene Keebler approximations thereof. For yesterday's soggy Superbowl Cathy and I each allowed ourselves one junk food indulgence. Half a bag of Fudge Sticks later and I found I hardly cared about what was going on in Miami. I had so little invested in the Bears this year (and I can't honestly say I've enjoyed a sustained curiosity in the NFL or any of its franchises in general since the Kardiac Kids lost AFC Divisional Playoff game to the Raiders in 1980) that I hardly cared that Rex was so unequivocally sucking. I liked the rain, though. I liked that it poured the entire game. I liked watching Billy Joel singing the National Anthem while sitting at a grand piano in the pouring rain. I was afraid Billy was going to get zapped, the smell of fried Joel wafting up through the downpour. I liked seeing Prince perform Purple Rain and caress his purple guitar in the pouring rain. I liked how they thought the rain was going to let up by halftime but that it kept coming down. I liked how it kept pouring and how after half a package of Fudge Sticks I was completely emulsified.

Grrr, Hillary, Grrr!

I think, for the most part, that I have a pretty good understanding of the fierce, divisive strains of partisanship running through our countries Democratic and Republican parties. I can understand how somebody might find fleeting if vicarious solace via a Limbaugh diatribe or a choir preaching Nation editorial from Katrina Vanden Heuvel. I can understand the Hillary hatred on the right and the Bush loathing on the left. What I don't understand, however, is how anybody can get revved up about reading an upcoming book like Liberal Fascism: the Totalitarian Temptation from Mussolini to Hillary Clinton or even begin to actually take it seriously. I find myself wondering, is the author Jonah Goldberg really, honestly making a go of equating the two? Or is this so self-evidently bombastic, so completely over the top that it'd be silly to see if as anything but ironic, Goldberg's tongue planted firmly in cheek?

Speaking of Hillary-hatred, I'm still not sure what to make of her run for president. I know one of the most common concerns on the left regarding her electability is the catalyzing powers of that Hillary-hatred. Just think of all the money the right will raise...think of those commercials that will air reminding us of her cock-sucking husband (and what will his role be in a Hillary White House--are we still getting two for one?) and the fact that she's an uppity woman who thinks she knows everything. I also know that she's made huge inroads toward defusing this animosity, reaching across the aisles and co-sponsoring legislation with notable conservatives and positioning herself as one of the leading hawks in the Senate. I know that she's had everything flung at her and is still standing. She can tap into a giant fundraising infrastructure and impressive brain trust. But a lot of that Hillary-hatred, as Goldberg's book is good evidence of, is knee jerk. It's so embedded amongst certain Republicans with deep pockets and influence that it'll launch every Swiftboat money can buy.

But whatever, I think what concerns me most is the Bush/Clinton dynasty, two families ruling the White House since 1988. If Clinton wins, these two families and their cronies will have ruled the presidential wing and its bully pulpit for over a quarter century. And as Bush II so unfortunately demonstrates, there are dangers to remaining ambivalent toward granting power through heredity.

Ethanol Will Cure Us!

Here's an interesting graph from the latest issue of the Economist. Republican states, as of the 2004 elections, consumed more electricity then Democratic states. And California consumed the least per person.

Speaking of the environment, one of the many encouraging, throw up your hands and dare to hope again phenomenons to happen when the Senate shifted to the Dems favor was Barbara Boxer taking over the chairmanship of the U.S. Senate Committee on Environment and Public Works from James Inhofe. Inhofe, as you probably already know, believes global warming to be "the greatest hoax ever perpetrated on the American people." So-called environmentalists, according to Inhofe, are nothing but a bunch of extremists who eschew science in favor of a kind of religious fervor and fear mongering. Unfortunately, evidence accumulated by "serious scientists committed to the principles of sound science," according to Inhofe, is being suppressed or ignored due to the considerable racket being made by the extremists and their radical Hollywood agenda. Just look, for example, at how Dr. Michael Crichton's pulpy book, State of Fear, a work of fiction with copious non-fiction footnotes that sought to prove the scientific delusion behind global warming, was treated. Had it garnered more positive reviews and had our liberal media gatekeepers permitted it a seat at the table of our national debate on global warming, well, you better believe we'd have been stunned by how "environmental organizations are more focused on raising money, principally by scaring potential contributors with bogus scientific claims and predictions of global apocalypse than with 'saving the environment.'" Indeed. But is Michael Crichton really the best he can offer? It's like making Erik Estrada a police officer in Muncie, Indiana based on his experience on CHIP's.

This is the (Imhofe, not Estrada!) man who promises to filibuster any attempt by the Senate to pass a bill involving mandatory caps on greenhouse-gas emissions. And he will do it. Just today his office posted the following press release: New ACNielsen Poll: 50% of Those Polled Don't Believe Global Warming Caused by Human Activity. But Nielsen also reveals that over 30 million of us tune in to watch American Idol each Tuesday and Wednesday night.

The subtext to all of this, as Inhofe's opening statement to the Committee's hearing today titled "Senator's Perspectives on Global Warming" is unfettered capitalism and an ideological aversion to regulating industry.

While I look forward to a vigorous debate this Congress I also look forward to vigorously pointing out the lack of scientific consensus, the real economic impact, and the effects of unilateral disarmament of our economy if we enact mandatory carbon reductions in the U.S., while the rest of the world is failing to meet their goals.

Lastly, how long are folks like Inhofe going to get away with the "lack of scientific consensus" argument? I know about the folks out there who decry this idea that there's consensus on the human cause of global warming, but you usually only find them on the opinion pages of the Wall Street Journal or on the payroll of Exxon or BP.

Iran In Ascendance

From Anthony Shadid’s article today in the Washington Post on the ascendance of Iran, some key quotes:

"The United States is the first to be blamed for the rise of Iranian influence in the Middle East," said Khaled al-Dakhil, a Saudi writer and academic. "There is one thing important about the ascendance of Iran here. It does not reflect a real change in Iranian capabilities, economic or political. It's more a reflection of the failures on the part of the U.S. and its Arab allies in the region."

Added Eyal Zisser, head of the Middle Eastern and African Studies Department at Tel Aviv University in Israel: "After the whole investment in democracy in the region, the West is losing, and Iran is winning."

And this:

Iran has found itself strengthened almost by default, first with the U.S.-led invasion of Afghanistan to Iran's east, which ousted the Taliban rulers against whom it almost went to war in the 1990s, and then to its west, with the American ouster of Iraqi President Saddam Hussein, against whom it fought an eight-year war in the 1980s.

And this:

"It's very bleak and it's very dangerous," said Dakhil, the Saudi writer. "We have a sectarian civil war in Iraq now and this is drawing sectarian lines through the region. This is the most important, the most dangerous ramification of the American war in Iraq."

Finding A Better Solution

Sometimes I think I’ve got to stay away from articles like this one. Like anybody with an ounce of empathy, the reality of situations like this are incredibly troubling but since becoming a Dad I'm so sensitive to it that this kind of stuff literally tears me up.

In the largely unregulated world of international adoptions, these programs often lead to happily-ever-after, but sometimes end painfully. Ukraine and Russia place formidable obstacles in the path of parents, among them inaccurate information about children’s availability and health status. Multiple families can wind up competing for the same child. And children themselves know they are auditioning for what the industry calls their “forever families.” Then there is an entrenched system of favors — requests for cash or gifts from facilitators, translators, judges and others who handle the mechanics of adoption overseas.

Conditions in both countries have grown so unsettled, some agencies have suspended hosting programs, and the debate is growing about the ratio of risk to reward. Do the many success stories for older orphans make up for the heartbreak when adoption is thwarted?

The Prozzos had been deceived before by an intermediary who showed them a photograph of an adorable child they later learned was not available. So their guard was up before Alona’s visit in December.

“We won’t let this child call us ‘mama’ or ‘papa’ because we aren’t,” Mr. Prozzo said. But Alona’s visit had barely begun when she jumped into his outstretched arms and called him “papa.”

“Now what?” Mr. Prozzo said, melting. “Now what?”

Prejudice Probably

I’m pretty sure the latest film adaptation of Jane Austin’s Pride and Prejudice didn’t really have all the magic it seemed to cast on me when I watched it a few nights ago- more likely that I was, for whatever reason, nicely primed to receive its goods, no matter how warmed over. Definitely, having Donald Sutherland as the doting, misty-eyed Bennet patriarch was perfect. And I’m more then happy to admit to being smitten by the flakes of occasional thespian-like radiance Kiera Knightly has been sprinkling around since Bend it Like Beckham, but I ‘dunno. There was the occasional glide of the camera. The opening ball-sequence especially, where Bennets meet Bingley and where Elizabeth first meets Darcy. For most of this roughly 10-minute sequence the camera is completely inconspicuous, dutifully framing the narrative without fuss. But then, the narrative tensions nicely coaxed into motion, it cuts loose with a great montage of blooming allegorical swoons and striking angles blatant enough to draw you out of the picture and into its technique before the camera catches itself and shuffles back into hiding behind the story. At least that’s how it felt seeing it the first time and I doubt I’ll feel compelled to check it out again. But its funny how these little moments, especially one so early on, can wake you up to a films possibilities. Additionally, Deborah Moggach’s screenplay offers numerous bouquets of finely tuned and turned phrases that gain the additional advantage of being spoken with English accents, at least two of which (Sutherlands and Jena Malone) are faked. So there's a lot to like about the film, for sure. What I can't untangle is whether it's my prejudice or my pride that's keeping me from entirely giving myself over to the warm gush of its charms.

Birthday Cupcake

This is as obligatory as it is necessary.

Happy New Year!

1

Happy Birthday, Abby! As if everything beautiful I had ever experienced in my life was simply a prelude to you. We love you madly.

Merry Christmas, James

A sad way to start our Christmas morning. Truly the Godfather of Soul and the Master of Funk. When I bought my first James Brown album the man working the counter of the record store rang a special funk bell that chimed throughout the store. "Gotta ring the funk bell," he told me.

ATLANTA -- James Brown, the dynamic, pompadoured "Godfather of Soul," whose rasping vocals and revolutionary rhythms made him a founder of rap, funk and disco as well, died early Monday, his agent said. He was 73.

Christmas Wrapping

I’m envious of the Amazon gifts that arrived the other day. They’re so perfectly wrapped- so taut and crisp. And inspiring. I want to wrap like that. But I wrap like a 5 year old. My folds start convincingly enough only to lose their delicate symmetry when I bring them together. Tape is amply employed but this seems only to make matters worse. The end result looks rumpled and hungover.

We’re off to Naperville to spend Christmas with Cathy’s family. 48 people coming over tomorrow and more then a third of them under the age of 7 with at least two of them younger then Abby. Here’s a picture of the peanut decked out in Santa garb picked out my her Grammy Lou and looking typically impish. Merry Christmas!

Libraries Are Doing It For Themselves

This past semester I was happy to read about an exciting, nascent movement afoot in the library world called Library 2.0. There isn’t a succinct definition for it (it’s been called a “collective of ideas”) but as Michael Stephens, who writes about Library 2.0 issues on his blog, TametheWeb, nicely put it:

Library 2.0 simply means making your library’s space (virtual and physical) more interactive, collaborative, and driven by community needs. Examples of where to start include blogs, gaming nights for teens, and collaborative photo sites. The basic drive is to get people back into the library by making the library relevant to what they want and need in their daily lives…to make the library a destination and not an afterthought.

So, given the caveat that Library 2.0 is a nebulous term and that I only first came to know about it in September, I've come to understand it as a set of tools, most of them revolving around social technologies, that bring libraries into a much needed alignment with the kinds of Web applications and services most of its patrons are already using and benefiting from everyday. Of course, those advocating for Library 2.0 the most are always quick to jump in and say that it’s about more then just technology, that it’s an attitude or readjustment in the library world, one that’s attempting to move the profession away from stagnant traditionalist ways of thinking and toward fresh new ideas. That relevancy thing-- it's something that creeps up in all my classes, right after we discuss how libraries are in crisis.

One of the impediments to integrating these new attitudes according to Library 2.0 advocates, especially at the technological level, are library vendors, those companies who provide stuff like the databases and on-line subscription services. John Blyberg, probably my favorite of the small, committed band of Library 2.0 apostles, wrote that these vendors “literally determine what we can and cannot do with our systems.” Vendors and their services are, according to Blyberg, too slow, too patronizing and too prohibitive. They don’t make it easy for libraries to get into the guts of their systems, screw around with them and adopt them to their current needs. Instead, too many libraries sit around waiting and hoping that the vendors will eventually respond.

That being said, some libraries, frustrated by the limitations and high costs of commercial vendors, are taking matters into their own hands.

About three years ago, the Georgia Public Library Service (GPLS) looked for a new integrated library system (ILS) to serve its large consortial group of libraries across the state and found its needs frustrated by the commercial ILS market. This September 5, it debuted a new library system and catalog. Evergreen was developed by a small in-house team using open source technologies, at significantly lower cost than the commercial options that were available. This strategy has proven dramatically more flexible in meeting the needs of GPLS, and the new system has been welcomed by librarians and patrons alike.

But best of all, this:

Among Evergreen’s characteristics is spell-checking of search terms with suggested alternates, much like Google’s suggestions when you misspell a word.

Catalog spell-checking, where have you been all my life?

(Thanks to Joe for the link to the Library Journal article.)

Cassa Dei Bambini

My siblings and I were all products of Montessori schooling. At least for a year or two before beginning kindergarten. I don’t remember much about my own Montessori experience other then performing “I’m a Little Teapot” (I particularly recall the joy of singing and pantomiming “tip me over and pour me out!”) and “Frere Jacques” with great verve. I was reminded of all this tonight when a guest in my library management class told us that she believed the way she learns was hardwired by her own early childhood Montessori experience. The Montessori method has been around for a while though I know little about it other then the basics that it eschews the more traditional measurements of achievement in favor of allowing children to explore and learn individually at their own speed. The teachers are there, I suppose, to watch, learn and accommodate each child’s separate learning/exploring path. Right? Oh, I wish I had more time to read. Surely modern educators have studied the Montessori method and come up with some interesting findings concerning its validity, no?

The semester is almost over. One more assignment due next Wednesday that will have me under its cloud most of this weekend. After that we can concentrate on ‘o tidings of comfort and joy, comfort and joy. This will probably include Baileys on the rocks. It definitely will. Oh, yes. It’s been a very busy time for both Cathy and I over the last few months and we’re both looking forward to slowing things down and enjoying Abby’s last couple weeks of nought.