fortune cookie

Courage is not simply one of the virtues, but the form of every virtue at the testing point.

real men wear kilts

I had a great night last night. Val was performing at an open mike at an Irish pub in Annapolis (her first time!) so a group of us headed down there to cheer her on and be her crazed groupies. It was so fun, and the scene was pretty eclectic. The highlight of the night (other than Val, who rocked) was the old man wearing a “Real Men Wear Kilts” T-shirt who played the bagpipes for 15 minutes. While he was playing, Val leaned over to me and said, “You just know his wife begs him to get out of the house to play that thing.” It was so loud; it would definitely drive her and the neighbors crazy.

Recently, I have been absolutely obsessed with the blog the Christian Science Monitor has been running with articles from Jill Carroll about her time in captivity with the insurgents in Iraq. It’s interesting; when she was released in March, I remember thinking “Wow, she was lucky”, but there is so much more to the story. She wasn’t lucky, she was smart. From the very beginning, everything to her was a strategy about staying alive. The paper and her parents, and the foreign media in Iraq all took steps to try to ensure that she would stay alive. Jill, in turn, worked very hard at befriending her captors and trying to ensure her safety. She also talks briefly about family structure in the insurgency and the role of women. It’s all very interesting, people should read it!

Work has been busier this week and last. Finally, I have things to do! It’s great, if not totally fulfilling; but it’s a lot better than it was. Other than that, not much else is going on.

busy week (and weekend)

Ok, can I just say that I am SOO relevant? In my blog the day of the foiled attacks, I talked about immigration in the US and Britain and how it's different. Remember? And then there was that article in Time? Well, this morning there is an article about the differences in the US and British Pakistani communities in the New York Times...Hah! I just think it's funny.

So, Jonny Lang last week was incredible. I have never seen him live before, and he just rocks. He opened with my favorite song from his last album “Long Time Coming”, which was great! More than anything else, he really worked hard, and was clearly having fun. I don’t think I have ever seen a performer enjoy his audience more…I don’t know whether it was just an exceptionally good night or he just really enjoys being up there, but he grinned ear to ear every time he let the cheers and screams wash over him.

Sarah (my roommate) had her birthday last week, the same day as the concert. We went out for drinks to celebrate before the show, and I randomly decided to throw her a birthday party. So I spent most of Saturday shopping and cleaning (Seriously, cleaning your house so it's perfect and then having people over to mess it up? That doesn’t make very much sense). Anyway, I think the party was a wild success. It's been awhile since I threw a get together, and it was fun...and Sarah had fun which is the most important thing.

After a few people headed home, a group of us went out to Gardel’s to try out Baltimore’s salsa scene. A few of us have tried to go to this place a few times, but we never have seemed to make it. I have never been salsa dancing before, although when I lived in Minneapolis it was one of my goals to learn. It was never realized, however, because the salsa scene there can be very touch and go...my friends had quite a few awkward nights where the only people in the clubs were creepy, dodgy men. Gardel’s was definitely not that way at all, and all the guys who asked me to dance were really nice and patient. But if you want to learn to salsa, it's probably not a great idea to go to THE place to salsa at 12 on a Saturday...there were no beginners in that crowd. I’ll just have to go to a few lessons.

Other than that, not much going on here. I was supposed to go see Little Miss Sunshine with Kirsten on Saturday, but she cancelled our plans at the last minute. Hopefully I will still get a chance to see it this week. My favorite tapas place in the city is right next door to the theater, so hopefully I’ll be able to catch dinner there beforehand.

Later!

hmm....

So, this is an article in Time that addresses some of the questions I brought up in my August 11th post, after the whole US-UK terror plot thing. It's pretty interesting.

"Such Lovely Lads" from Time magazine this week.

goings on

The US government has come through! They have paid me what they owe me (or more accurately my father) in back tax credits...which means that the balance on my large credit card is going to be gone! It makes me soo happy to think that now I will have significantly decreased my leftover school credit card debt. It is so rare that money matters make me happy.

I really enjoyed this little piece from the New York Times magazine, from this week.

I am going to see Jonny Lang tonight at Ram's Head Live with Kirsten! I've never seen him before, but I have heard that he is incredible in person. I can't wait...

this scary world

This whole plane plot is really scary. I have become much more aware of terrorism and how it affects my life since moving to Baltimore. When I lived in Wisconsin and Minnesota, I was never that worried. There is no way either of those places would be the first hit in a terrorist attack, and there would be time to flee to Canada before what was occurring affected me there; but now that I live within 30 miles of DC and in a city that boasts a major port, it has become more real to me.

A few weeks ago I got into a debate with one of the guys from work about who handles immigration policy better, countries in Europe or the US. I argued that the people in Europe have their act together, that their policies were better and they dealt with the multi-cultural makeup of their countries with greater ease than here. He argued that the US was better. I asked that same question to Chris, the British guy I met in June, while he was here. His opinion was that immigrants in America identify and align themselves more with the US than immigrants in Britain do. I think that is very interesting, considering what happened yesterday (and last year) with young men who grow up in the UK but don’t align their allegiances to their country.

All this stuff is also crazy to me because I am so passionate about South Asian culture and politics. I have ached over the close relationship the US has with Pakistan, because it disenfranchises the future relationships that the US can have with India, the world’s largest democracy AND a democracy that could desperately use the support of the US (especially because China is getting all cozy with their relations with India in recent years). But, sadly, the US-Pakistan relationship is necessary in this world. With the terror threats and the precarious situation in Afghanistan, the US has to maintain its close ties….even though the relationship is far from perfect.

I was thinking this morning about how these men would even be able to enter the United States….how would they ever get an approved visa from our government? And then I remembered….they were British citizens. They wouldn’t need one! That is also really scary to me, and I wouldn’t be surprised if that issue gets addressed in the future. The reality of this situation is that these men would have been able to enter the country, no questions asked, because of our diplomatic relationship with the UK.

The world has changed…..

I hate terrorism……

umm, yeah.

If I had a quote book, this would be one of the infamous ones:

"Good people make good decisions. That’s why they’re good people"--Wayne LaPierre, executive vice president of the N.R.A., as quoted in the New York Times.

Umm, yeah....because how many good people do you know who make good decisions all the time. Definitely not me!

the flags of our sons

This op-ed piece appeared in today's New York Times:

The Flags of Our Sons

By BILLY SHORE
Published: August 4, 2006
Washington

WHEN you fly as often as I do you learn to mind your own business as soon as you take your seat. But that wasn’t possible once I saw the military honor guard boarding US Airways’ 1:45 p.m. flight from Boston to Washington earlier this week.

I was heading through the gate when I first noticed Senator Ted Kennedy, walking down the concourse and arriving fashionably late, not an uncommon sight on this route. I stepped aside and followed him down the ramp.

As we got to the arched entrance of the plane, the members of a Marine honor guard in their dress blues were coming up that outside staircase usually used for stowing strollers and allowing mechanics on board. The marine in charge held in both hands a flag that had been folded into a triangle as if it had been previously draping a coffin, which it had.

Senator Kennedy extended his hand to the marine and said, “Thank you for your service.”

“Thank you, sir,” replied the marine.

“Are you escorting remains?” asked Senator Kennedy.

“Yes, sir, a marine.”

“And the funeral is at Arlington Cemetery?”

“Yes, sir, on Wednesday.”

“Thank you, I’ll try to get out there.”

The marine went back to sit in coach, but a man in the last row of the first-class cabin went over to him, shook hands and offered his seat. The marine reluctantly accepted. Half the passengers broke into applause.

The rest of the flight was uneventful, though quieter than usual. When we landed, the marine took his white gloves from where he’d stowed them inside his hat, put them on, and again gripped with both hands the precious cargo of the folded flag.

Then he went over to two people quietly sitting in first class — the parents of the fallen marine. None of us had known they were there.

He escorted them off the plane and into the terminal. Because of the afternoon’s oppressive heat and humidity, he had persuaded them to wait inside instead of on the tarmac.

The father looked as if he might have once been a marine himself, a handsome man of perfect posture, with bristly silver hair, dressed smartly in a blue blazer and gray slacks. The mother, blond, wore light-colored pants and an orange jacket. Her glasses made her eyes seem bigger than they were. They both looked calm, if a little lost, and gave off an aura of deep quiet. As she walked by me she noticed that a tie had fallen as I was removing something from my carry-on bag and she stopped and pointed. “I think you dropped something,” she said softly.

They stood at the window between Gates 43 and 45 and watched as a full Marine honor guard marched up the tarmac, coming to attention between the plane and a silver military hearse. The unloading of their son’s coffin from the cargo hold was very slow, and every time someone inside the terminal noticed and stopped to stare, someone else noticed and did the same, and this kept happening until about 20 people stood in silence watching out the window.

The mom leaned her elbows on the window ledge, supporting her chin and cheeks with both hands. She remained perfectly still. She stared for 10 or 15 long minutes and never moved. The father stood nearby, rocking from foot to foot and pacing a bit. They did not touch; they did not say a word to each other. Neither wore a wedding band. Perhaps they were divorced, or simply isolated in their pain.

Standing nearby was a man wearing the T-shirt of a suburban fire and rescue department that he may have earned 20 years and 35 pounds ago. He went over to the parents to chat, not knowing who they were, just one curious spectator to another.

But whatever he said to the mother caused her to turn and look at him in disbelief. Her lips didn’t move, which only encouraged him to repeat it. Her eyes widened and her chin tilted upward like a boxer who had taken a blow. She stared at him and then looked back outside toward her son. Down on the tarmac the white gloves of eight marines snapped their final salute as the doors of the hearse closed.

The P.A. system announced flights for Atlanta and Chicago. Travelers rushed to business meetings or summer vacations. The line for Auntie Anne’s pretzels was as long as ever.

Except for a handful of us standing frozen at a respectful distance from the window, the war and its carnage might as well have been on another planet. The disconnect between those who serve and those of us who are beneficiaries of their service has always felt great to me, but never greater than at that moment.

The mom and dad stepped away from the man in the T-shirt and to another window, still not touching, their movement synchronized by grief. They waited until the marine in charge came back up from the runway to escort them to a government vehicle. I went to my car and drove to work with no ambition for the day other than to be worthy.

age and life

So, I have noticed that this week is the 25th birthday of both MTV and the PC. It has been making me think about how both of these things have dramatically influenced and changed life forever, particularly for those of us who were born after the advent of both of those things (like me!).

What would life have been like without the advent of the pop-culture machine of MTV? Its influence over young people is undeniable. Even though I was never really allowed to watch it as a teen, (or I just scorned it, I can’t really remember) MTV has influenced pop-culture to an extreme, especially when you consider that it single-handedly spawned reality TV (which now permeates our culture to a sickening degree!).

And PC’s! I remember when I was in the 4th grade, learning how to us a computer with MS DOS….the pitch black screen with blinking green letters. That led to hours and hours playing Oregon Trail (which I STILL think is one of the greatest computer games ever). In today’s world of online banking, online stores, online news agencies, email, chat rooms, etc, what life would have been like if we didn’t have computers?

Anyway, this is just something that has been running through my head this week. Another funny thing that happened to me: I visited PA this weekend (because Leah was there visiting friends of ours) and she had some more of my stuff they had discovered in the house in WI. I was going through some of the papers last night; old choir programs (really funny), pictures from high school (also highly entertaining), my first driver’s license AND my birth certificate (which I hadn’t seen in ages). I was looking at it, and something struck me. My parent’s ages. It’s funny, because I know how old my parents were when they had me, but seeing their ages in print on my birth certificate was just oddly real. My mom was 22 and my dad was 23 when I was born. I will be 24 next month. Scary!