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June 06, 2008

D-Day

On the morning of June 6th, 1984...the fortieth anniversary of the storming of Normandy, President Ronald Reagan stood at Pointe Du Hoc and made this speech. It is long, but it is worth your moments. Do not forget the lives that were lost on foreign soil to defend liberty. It is their legacy we must continue to uphold.

We're here to mark that day in history when the Allied armies joined in battle to reclaim this continent to liberty. For four long years, much of Europe had been under a terrible shadow. Free nations had fallen, Jews cried out in the camps, millions cried out for liberation. Europe was enslaved, and the world prayed for its rescue. Here in Normandy the rescue began. Here the Allies stood and fought against tyranny in a giant undertaking unparalleled in human history.

We stand on a lonely, windswept point on the northern shore of France. The air is soft, but 40 years ago at this moment, the air was dense with smoke and the cries of men, and the air was filled with the crack of rifle fire and the roar of cannon. At dawn, on the morning of the 6th of June, 1944, 225 Rangers jumped off the British landing craft and ran to the bottom of these cliffs. Their mission was one of the most difficult and daring of the invasion: to climb these sheer and desolate cliffs and take out the enemy guns. The Allies had been told that some of the mightiest of these guns were here and they would be trained on the beaches to stop the Allied advance.

The Rangers looked up and saw the enemy soldiers--the edge of the cliffs shooting down at them with machine guns and throwing grenades. And the American Rangers began to climb. They shot rope ladders over the face of these cliffs and began to pull themselves up. When one Ranger fell, another would take his place. When one rope was cut, a Ranger would grab another and begin his climb again. They climbed, shot back, and held their footing. Soon, one by one, the Rangers pulled themselves over the top, and in seizing the firm land at the top of these cliffs, they began to seize back the continent of Europe. Two hundred and twenty-five came here. After two days of fighting, only 90 could still bear arms.

Behind me is a memorial that symbolizes the Ranger daggers that were thrust into the top of these cliffs. And before me are the men who put them there. ...

Continue reading "D-Day" »

December 07, 2006

december 7

Usually I have a class to whom to read these. This year I do not. So, the internet reading audience gets to be my class today. A few years ago, I discovered a fabulous site called Eyewitness to History. I guess the name of the site pretty much explains why it's so fabulous. I made gratuitous use of it while teachign 5th and 6th grade history. And on Pearl Harbour Day. So. Use the links. Live the day with them.

eye witness at Pearl Harbour

Japanese pilot's view at Pearl Harbour

White House reaction to the attack

November 13, 2006

television and the short story

Thanks for the comments on my last post. Michael, I was glad for a little more historical insight than I had. I think both you and Jesse hit the central issue that people have when dealing with television: we have a avery visible reminder of who its sponsors are. That isn't to say that films aren't sponsored--they most certainly are, typically by whatever products you see artfully panned over in the course of the film--but where television is concerned, we can't really ignore it. I have friends who are severe movie fans, and who attend and perform in various and sundry stage performances, and yet fervently proclaim they "hate t.v." This has, more and more, come to seem to me as a false dichotomy. So here are my thoughts on the matter.

For centuries, entertainment and literary endeavours centered solely around the written word and the live performance of the written word. During those centuries, there were typically two types of literature: really long (epic poems, full-length plays, novels) and short (narrative and lyric poems, one-act plays, short stories). With the advent of the twentieth century a new form of entertainment was introduced: the radio. Radio then ushered in the age of motion picture technology and finally the television set. Somewhere along the line, film became an accepted form of artistic endeavour while television has largely, in America at least, remained marginalized. (Michael's comment on last post gives a great summary of one reason why) Typically the reasons given are that television is commercialized, that television writers are hacks, that television shows are shallow and don't tackle philosophical matter, that television characters are not well developed, that television is an artistic sell-out. My problem with every one of those arguments is that they can just as easily apply to any other artistic realm as well as they can apply to television.

Television is a commercial endeavour--it has to be. Without commercial sponsors, there isn't any money. The same is true for any other art form. Plays have corporate sponsors and advertising sponsors listed in the program. Broadway plays have pages of ads in their programs, yet they don't receive criticism for being commercialized. I would guess the reason is two-fold: it is already accepted as art, and we still have to buy a ticket. Movies, which are gaining acceptance as art--some film great enough to be labelled "classic" already--are also sponsored commercially. Previews are ads. That's not counting the actual ads that often play before the previews. Often, products are highlighted in movies--ever notice how many of the computers are Macs? How many people drink Coca-cola? Even visual art must appeal to buyers or the artist cannot support himself. All art contains a certain measure of commercialism if it is to be successful.

For the sake of space--and because the rest of the criticism are similar--I'll combine the rest as a single issue: Television produces a lower quality product that doesn't challenge the audience to tackle weighty matters. Here comes my one allowance of sarcasm: because all other art forms at all other times have always produced high quality pieces that constantly challenge the audience with weighty ideas. Sure. I've read Restoration plays--they make todays raunchiest sit-coms look prudish and high quality. Seriously. The fact is that all artistic and entertainment expression has many levels of product. Yes, some shows are ridiculous and come nowhere near the bar of "art." But the same is true for many novels, plays, even visual art works. That, to me, is no reason to throw out an entire genre as worthless. I understand that it is easier to pin the label "art" or "classic" on a movie because it's a single package--a piece of artistic communication that can be watched in a single sitting and evaluated. It is seamless, allowing a particular idea or event to be examined and weighed deeply at a single time. Television does not have that advantage. For that reason, a well-crafted television show, to me, deserves even more respect. Television writers have a shorter time-frame in which to present ideas and events while holding the audience's attention through commercial breaks. That is not an easy task. They don't have a huge screen on which to unfold their events which limits the awe and emotional attachment response that they can produce. And even with the advantages of working with film, how many films have you been to see with expectation that completely let you down? And how many films are just about creating some cheap laughs. The product is solely the result of who is producing it, not where it appears.

I am completely convinced that as we move more and more into an age of digital media, television, not just film, needs to be given credence as a legitimate art form. Not that all television will rise to the form of "art" or "classic" any more than all plays or novels will. If we accept the film as the digital equivalent to the novel, the epic, the full-length play, then I think we ought to consider the medium of television as the digital equivalent of the short-story, the narrative, the one-act play. If we can look at short stories as legitimate pieces of literature that have something to say, then why can we not accept television in that way? Frankly, much of what we consider "classic" today was written for entertainment; and in the cases of some novels, was even serialized with sponsors (Dickens...). I would not find it surprising if 100 years from now, television series were looked on in the same manner--as a 20th/21st century literary form. Don't get me wrong, not all television is good literature (Yes, Dear--ick), but some of it downright brilliant (The Office, yay). I just think t.v ought to be given the fair shake that most of us are more than willing to give to film.

Sorry, this is rather longer than I intended. Oh well. I'm not reading it. :) At any rate, I would certainly welcome some more thoughts on the matter. And perhaps what shows you think ought to be considered as future classics and why?

August 30, 2006

rebuild. restore. renew. Part 1.

So it's a year later. Watching films of Katrina and "Year Later" news coverage is not easy. It's so hard to convey the way it makes me feel. The only thing that I can use as an analogy that even resembles it is 9/11. For New Yorkers, the feeling of seeing a huge hole in the skyline has got to be similar to seeing a city you love and are close to completely inundated by water. These are places I have been many, many times. These are streets I have driven down. This is a city in which member of my family have lived and do live. A year later, many things are better than they might have been; many things are not as good as they could be. So, I think that I should break this into more than one post, for the sake of my reading public. haha. This post will be a...collage of what I wrote at the time, of some deeper thoughts in looking back. I'll post later on what I see happening now. I'll do a separate post of pictures. It is very hard to write about this without seeming melodramatic or apathetic. I will try to just be honest about what it was like here, less that 80 miles away, the closest city on the evacuation route, a city also wounded by the storm but trying to help.

August 28th
The day after my 27th birthday. I don't feel 27. How is one supposed to feel at 27? I still feel 20 and unsure of myself so much of the time. At any rate, my sister and her friends (some of whom are on the basketball team I coach) spent the last two weeks planning a surprise party for me that was held during youth group tonight. They were upset that more people couldn't come--they invited a ton--because Katrina is now headed our way. In fact, it started wind-ing and raining during youth. This one is big--N.O. has been evacuating since yesterday, today they're under a mandatory evacuation.
No one really thought the storm would be as dangerous as it was. After all, most of the people there have grown up weathering storms in the city without evacuation. Why should they worry now? The southern Parishes--Plaquemines and St.Bernard--have been steadily emptying the last couple of days. Most New Orleanians probably figure they'll just get stuck on the highway anyway. There aren't many rooms left in Baton Rouge.
At some point Sunday night, I really got into it with some guys on a forum. They were all full of ideas about what ought have been done, and when people ought to have evacuated. They've never even been here.
They have no idea what it's like here--that there's only one way out of south-east Louisiana and it's through New Orleans. A mandatory evacuation too soon would just clog the roads with people doomed to ride out the storm in their cars on the side of the road. And many New Orleanians are like New Yorkers--their identity comes from where they live, they don't want to leave, and kick up a fuss when forced to; it's better to let the southern parishes get out first.

August 29th
The storm started in the night--wind just whipping through the trees. If we had had a tornado, you'd never hear it over the wind that's pummeling everything around. I can't imagine what it's like near the eye. These are just 80ish winds with gusting--155 is hard to comprehend. The power went out early this morning; this afternoon we discovered it's because the line is down. In case you are wondering, it isn't because we didn't look out the windows, it's because with the wind and rain, we couldn't see out the windows.The wind is just fierce--it never stops. This evening it started dieing down. The silence is unnerving. Once you get used to the sound of the wind, not hearing sounds ominous. Power is out all around. Mom is listening to the battery operated radio that all good south-Louisianians have. We just want to hear word of New Orleans. Maw-maw is in Maryland at my aunt and uncle's, but we're worried about her house. Dad picked up her car on his way here Saturday after they shut the oil field in, but we don't know--she lives only two blocks from Lake Pontechartrain and with a storm like this, we're really afraid her neighborhood might have flooded.
It is so hard not to know anything. Sitting in the dark, listening to newscasters who only know what people call in and tell them. One woman called and complained for 20 minutes that her Cox Cable was still out. We were just flabbergasted. Here no one knows if an entire city has managed to survive the storm, and this woman is complaining about her cable being out. Frankly, the rest of the country probably knows more about what's happening in New Orleans than we do.

August 30th
This morning we learned that the levees broke. The city is just inundated. We don't know where Tommy is. Danny and Lynn went to Houston, but we haven't heard from Tommy at all. We don't even know where exactly the flooding is. We heard that French Quarter and Chalmette is flooded. We aren't sure about Bywater.
Later. From what we're hearing, not only is Metarie flooded (thanks to the 17th Street canal levee, etc.), but the 9th ward is flooded, too. I'm sure he evacuated, but without word. . . .There's no power anywhere, trees over roads, all of St. Bernard and Plaquemines parishes are under water. St. Tammany may be, but nobody has heard since there isn't any communication. All the cell phones are dead and land-lines are gone.
You don't really realize how important cell phones have become until you can't use them. All of these people who managed to grab their cell phones before evacuating, or climbing to the second floor, and it won't do them any good bacause all the towers are gone. Fragile. It's all so fragile.

September 1st
Tommy is in Arkansas, soon to be in North Carolina. My whole family breathed a collective sigh of relief.

September 2nd
My brother and sister and I went to a movie tonight. We've been sharing a two-bedroom, one bath trailer with a couple we vaguely know who evacuated Slidell (their house is on the north shore of Lake Pontechartrain). There is a lot of news watching--basically all the time--and I just can't take it anymore. My heart is so sickened at what people are having to endure. I'm just so overwhelmed. I needed a movie. I feel so selfish wishing for power; complaining at having to share this trailer with practical strangers. At least we have that. At least we have our own home to return to once the power goes back on. But I can't help it. Human nature winning over better impulses. I can't even imagine what it would be like to share to shelter with thousands of complete strangers; to only own a masked off square and the clothes on my back. Even for those who have homes to return to, I can't imagine the frustration of knowing that everything you own is in a flooded house that you won't be able to get back to for at least a month. Today was the day I boiled over. I reached the end of my heart. Watching these people go through another day of heat and confusion and desperation was too much for me. I stood in the shower this morning and just sobbed. What really kills me is the should-have-dones and the would-have-dones. Right. Because standing outside is just like being there. Everyone, looking back or in, has the best vision, the best plan, the best strategy.
I understand that for many people conjecturing and proclamating is the only way they can process what they are seeing. But it just makes me angry--especially when the people yipping have no idea what's really going on and who we really are. You know, the people who think Louisiana= bayous and moss, and New Orleans=Bourbon Street and jazz. It seems to be a sickness of sorts: nobody jumps on the downed cities and leaders of other places when disasters happen, but when it happens here the fault is obviously because we're stupid and don't plan anything. Of course, my response is to want to curl up in a whole, watch the news, and cry.
I've discovered through this that the news media, even to a certain extent the local news media, is like a pack that jumps on a wounded animal. There is some kind of perverse pleasure gained from only showing the bad angle, the mistake, the bad judgment call, the consequences of not planning for whatever minute detail they think should have been planned for. It would, in many ways, be much different had this not been a natural disaster. Then there would be some type of excuse, I guess. it is jsut so disheartening, though, to see the "kick 'em while they're down" attitude. Perhaps if you aren't from here, you couldn't see it so well. Instead you would see the look of sorrow and pity while a somber newscaster listed the horrible atrocities that were or might be occurring. But think about it: how many times did you hear about ineptness and then ensuing personal disasters, as opposed to things that did go right and would have gone right had the levees not broken. What few realize is that New Orleans did survive the storm. The pumps kept the city from flooding throughout the storm. Forseeing the levee breaks was beyond the powers of anyone concerned, so newscasters and others can sit around and preach what they would have done had they been there, but in reality, they would have done the same thing because they aren't psychic either.

September 4th
It appears that Tommy's house is definitely flooded. We heard that Metarie and Kenner are "drying up." That pretty much means that Maw-maw's house has had water in it. The question is how much. My aunt and uncle keep bugging Dad about them coming down with Maw-maw to check things out, etc. Dad keeps telling them there isn't anything we can do right now anyway. And no-one is going to be let in unless they have a Jefferson Parish i.d., so what exactly is the point? Plus, there isn't any power. I think it really bothers Dad that he's trying to help keep Maw-maw out of the worry zone and Ted and Lisa aren't helping. LIke any of us need the hassle of family arguments right now. Danny and Lynn have decided to go back to Maryland for now--hopefully he can get into a college up there to finish out the semester.
It seems to me that people's ideas of what has happened are either hyperbolic or understated. Either they have no idea the magnitude of the disaster, or they think it was the Apocalypse and riots of murderous gansters are roving through the waters taking over everything. Can I find someone to blame for that? Probably not. I have a feeling that a large part of that is that people often hear/see what they do through their own desired perceptions. Ted and Lisa want to believe that this was no big deal and Maw-maw will just have to air things out abit and then she'll be able to come home, so that's what they hear. After two rather long conversations, I still don't think Dad has convinced them how wrong they are.

September 6th
Well. Yesterday my siblings and I went to help out at a shelter here. We played with kids so parents could catch a break. I have so much respect for the people in this shelter. They've got nothing--many are from the inner city--yet you can see the hope and new-found pride they have. The realization that so many people want to help them has made an impact in their lives.
I was talking to a friend the other day (who was very glad that every one in my family was okay) and noting how so many poor black people have been robbed by their own "leaders." For so long they've been told that they deserve the government's help, that any problems they have are not their fault and the goverment should fix them, instead of being taught how to pick themselves up and make their own way. Now I know there are poor of all ethnicities, and many of them don't do for themselves as they ought--but black leaders have spent years crippling their own people with this dogma. Now, in a time a terrible disaster, all many of them know to do is just wait for the government. Not all, though. My favourite story is of a black man who saw an empty 18-wheeler sitting by the road, "commandeered" it, loaded as many people as he could into the back of it, and drove to Baton Rouge. That's leadership. Like he said, he knows you aren't supposed to steal a truck, but he had to start getting people out. And that if the owners wanted to get the truck back, it was right here at the gas station, they didn't need it anymore.
I continue to get so angry with the media footage--how many times can they show the same exact footage of the same looters? And you know what--most of the people are just taking food and necessities, why continuously show the ones who aren't? Why not show people grabbing water and sharing it with others over and over? Why not show the footage of volunteers with boats helping old ladies off of balocnies over and over? Why not show the 4,000 National Guard troops that have been there since the day of the storm helping people? Why do they always have to show the bad stuff over and over? Why do they only talk about the problems over and over? suddenly the media illness that has plagued the troops in Iraq (lets talk about dead bodies instead of troops helping and being helped) has struck here. I'm ranting a little I know. I'm just fed up.

September 8th
God bless every single person around this country who has given money, goods, and time to the people here and on the Gulf Coast. Americans are so giving. So giving.
Remember what I said earlier about stubborn New Orleanians? Notice that even now there are about 10,000 people who have refused to leave though given several chances. Nagan is pushing for a forced evacuation to prevent disease from breaking out. The water in the city. . .well, you only have to see a couple of pictures to figure it out. Search and resue is beginning to become body recovery, mainly on the gulf coast. The National Guard is still picking people off of roofs.
I have never ceased to be astonished and heart warmed by the massive influx of people with boats who rushed to the city to help rescue people. This is what humanity can be capable of when given grace. I watched the most unlikely heroes help families and individuals off of roofs and out of attics with no thoughts of race or economics. That is beautiful, and that is what we ought to be seeing more of. That is what brings me to my knees thinking about it every time.

September 10
We have power in our house again, thanks to some electric workers from Arkansas. They put up a new pole, restrung our line, and fixed the transformer. Bless them.

October 17
Two Saturdays ago I helped people from the shelters register at the FEMA trailer park in Baker, Louisiana. After five weeks in shelters, these people were ready to have their own space, even if it is just a travel trailer. There were, of course, a few people who were unsatisfied with anything they have been offered--finding fault in the trailer, wanting something different--but that is to be expected, really. For many, they are so frustrated with everything that they just don't feel like being nice about anything. And then there are just those who are never grateful no matter what happens to them. But for the most part, people were just genuinely happy to have something that is theirs--a space for them and their families, some privacy most of all. Some of these people were just heartbreakers--many people, including blacks (regardless of media frenzy), had to leave behind middle class jobs and middle class houses, decent schools for their kids--not that the losses of porr people are less dark for them, but somehow seeing a family used to a roomy house, people who had jobs to go to where they were useful, relegated to travel trailers was really hard. Maybe that makes me a classist, I don't know. Of course, I get very bothered by the media attention on only poor blacks. I'm not trying to deny that there is a segment of New Orleanian population that is poverty stricken, and that much of that population is black. That's true. The problem is it does such a disservice to the many--and I mean many--working class and upper class black families that have lost everything. You'd think black "leaders" would want to show the tragic losses of succesful black families instead of characaturing all black in N.O. as poor. But then, I suppose I'm execting too much. It's just irresponsible to ignore a large segment of the population as though their losses aren't important. Some of the greatest destruction was in working class and upper class subdivisions--where not only white, but asian and black families lived. And regardless of what the media seems to think, these losses are the worst for N.O. After all, these people live in these neighborhoods because they own businesses there. They are the employers of the city. Anyway, enough of my little rant. The poverty of N.O. is a terrible reality, but it isn't the only part of reality, either.
My parents went to check on my grandmother's house. It had had baout 2 and half feet of water or so in it. It won't need to be gutted, but it will need extensive work; and, she will need all new furniture. They also drove through the neighborhoods where they grew up (both of my parents grew up in N.O.). Dad said it was like a plague movie. Everything is dead--trees, grass. He said there weren't any cats or dogs, very few squirrels (which is really bizarre) and almost no birds. The water line on the house where my dad grew up in Gentily was just over the eaves--this is a house up on about three feet of pilings (like most houses there). The "no people, no pets" designation was spray painted on the top of the gable--because that's where the boat was when they got there to hack open the roof. The house had just been purchased and renovated by a young man for his soon-to-be wife. Now everything is gone, covered in mildew and bold. The house my great-grandmother used to live in is almost as bad--it was about a foot higher than my grandmother's old house. He said they drove through Lakeview and Bucktown--everything is covered in inches of mildew and dust. He said he seriously expected zombies to start appearing from behind the houses. Everything was just a bleak wasteland.
When I drove through New Orleans later, and Slidell, it was so surreal. The only way to conceivable describe the way it felt to me was to say that it seemed like everyone had suddenly vanished about ten years before. Like, "poof," they had just disappeared and left the city abandoned, that it had sat empty for years, and just now a few people were daring to return. Even that doesn't really catch it. It's the time factor. What I saw felt like it had happened over years--years--but it had happened in mere days. The creepiest of all was something my dad told me once he had returned to work. He drives up the west side of the Mississippi river from Venice, La., and crosses the river to go through New Orleans (that's the hurricane evacuation route for the southern parishes, as well). I don't know if any of you have ever seen a picture of New Orleans at night. It's beautiful--the curve of the river is so full of lights. I'll try to find a picture for you. He was coming back early in the morning, around 4, so it was dark outside. This time, he drove over the bridge to nothing. The city was completely dark. He said it was the most unsettling thing he had experienced in a long time.

I know this was a long post. But it was the best I could do. There is so much in my head and heart that I can't express. Perhaps more will come out later. I think it's very important for people to read what residents and neighbors went through--get a rounded picture. I'm out of words for now.

For some local news stories:
The Baton Rouge Advocate
http://www.nola.com

August 08, 2006

the gauntlet has been taken up

So I've been tossed the challenge by Jesse G.

1. One book that changed your life: Till We Have Faces by C.S. Lewis

2. One book that you’ve read more than once: Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte

3. One book you’d want on a desert island: The Book of Images by Rainer Maria Rilke

4. One book that made you laugh: By the Light of the Moon by Dean Koontz

5. One book that made you cry: The House of Mirth by Edith Wharton

6. One book that you wish had been written: How to be courageous in confusing situations

7. One book that you wish had never been written: Democracy and Education by John Dewey

8. One book you’re currently reading: Eragon by Christpher Paolini

9. One book you’ve been meaning to read: The Decameron by Boccaccio

10. Now tag five people: Cooper, Marlo (sorry, dear, i'm running out of other options), Kinsey, Kylie, and Rachel M.

Of course, anyone may take up the gauntlet, but these five have been specifically challenged and tasked to take it up. Refuse it at your own peril.

June 12, 2004

Manufactured Gods

They put up big wooden gods.
Then they burned the big wooden gods
And put up brass gods and
Changing their minds suddenly
Knocked down the brass gods and put up
A doughface god with gold earrings.
The poor mutts, the pathetic slant heads,
They didn’t know a little tin god
Is as good as anything in the line of gods
Nor how a little tin god answers prayer
And makes rain and brings luck
The same as a big wooden god or a brass
God or a doughface go with golden
Earrings.

--Carl Sandburg

The Water Circus

These birds in hundreds rained like pelt-like kamikazes the day the heavens caved in because of God’s anger.
Man was floating in circles in a boat made of pitch.
Fish were freed to a place of utter mobility.
And the screaming children were swallowed up by the sea.
Inside the fortress, man smelled like the earth, even though the earth was not yet to be seen.
My curious cohorts would play late in their pens of mud,
And furious others clamoured until they fell into sleep.
The old man’s hand was blood-soaked in teeth-marks,
For the floating zoo had no admission park.
And this lonely dove, the soul of God in image,
Found a twig that set every one off,
In the water circus.

--Kevin Smith

The Song of the Statue

Who is there who so loves me, that he
Will throw away his own dear life?
If someone will die for me in the ocean,
I will be brought back from stone
Into life, into life redeemed.
How I long for blood’s rushing;
Stone is so still.
I dream of life: life is good.
Has no one the courage
Through which I might awaken?
And if I once more find myself in life,
Given everything most golden,--

------------------------------

then I will weep
alone, weep for my stone.
What help will my blood be, when it ripens like wine?
It cannot scream out of the ocean
He who loved me most.

--Rainer M. Rilke

Girl's Melancholy

A young knight comes to mind
Almost like an old saying.He came. Thus sometimes in the grove
The great storm comes and wraps around you.He left. Thus often the wild benison
Of the great bells breaks off
In the midst of prayer...
Then you want to scream in the silence,
And yet only weep softly inside,
Deep in your cool shawl.
A young knight comes to mind,
Riding far in full armor.
His smile was so soft and fine:
Like gleaming on old ivory,
Like homesickness, like a Christmas snowfall
In the dark village, like turquoise
Around which many pearls are fashioned,
Like moonlight
On a favorite book.

--Rainer M. Rilke