The late Senator John McCain was not a perfect man. No one is. He may not even have been quite the maverick we all believed him to be (McCain voted with Trump 83% of the time, which included greenlighting all of Trump's cabinet-level picks, except for Mick Mulvaney (McCain voted no) and the disaster that was Scott Pruitt (no vote)). Still, John McCain was a man of honor, a dedicated public servant, and a fundamentally decent human being. He will be missed, especially now, in this time of poisonous politics.
Monday, August 27, 2018
Monday, August 20, 2018
Just to clarify
In the wake of Rudy Giuliani's statement this weekend that "truth isn't truth": *
Get the difference?
*Link is to the entire interview. Fast forward to 9:00 for the "truth isn't truth" section.
Fake news:
Real news:
Get the difference?
*Link is to the entire interview. Fast forward to 9:00 for the "truth isn't truth" section.
Monday, August 13, 2018
An End of One Thing
Just about three years ago, I was fortunate to begin an unpaid gig writing a monthly column for one of the weekly newspapers in the county. We're fortunate here, to have no less (fewer? I can never remember the proper use) than four newspapers in our county, despite being a decidedly rural community. One is a daily, and three are weeklies.
My previous boss was an ex-newspaper person herself who had once been the editor-in-chief for one of those weeklies. She knew I liked to write, she knew that the papers always like to get content when it's written for them, and she knew that it was a good opportunity for our organization to raise its profile by getting a column with our name on it. So in a way, I was actually getting paid to write, just not by the newspaper. So, for the last three-and-a-half years I struggled mightily once a month to find something relevant to write about, to make it relevant to my job without it seeming like pure party propaganda, and to make it interesting to the community.
At first, I felt a little like I was screaming into the void (sadly, that website, launched by John Oliver, is now defunct). I opened with a column on lightbulbs, of all things, and how New York State laws would be requiring a phase-out of incandescent bulbs for most household applications in favor of higher efficiency compact fluorescent and LED bulbs. Exciting stuff, right? I wrote a lot about recycling, because there's so much confusion, but I also wrote about invasive species, water quality, pollinators, ticks and, in what might be my favorite column, an homage to goldenrod (which, in my little corner of the world, is now blooming, which makes me happy and a little sad at the same time). Over time, I found something strange: people were reading.
It's nice when someone drops a comment on this blog, nicer still when someone (or several someones) regularly drop comments on this blog. It's nice to know that people are actually reading these words and find something to say about them, and that you're not all a bunch of Russian bots crawling over this site for reasons I can't comprehend. But it's even nicer when the cashier at the local Price Chopper says, "I really like your column" and tells you about her own battles with customers and corporate over the plastic bag recycling program stores are required to have, or when a respected doctor e-mails with advice on solving a problem I griped about by improving signage, or when the crusty old scientist on my board praises my column on ticks because "most of the time, it's 50% bullshit," and he doesn't mean my column, he means what you normally read about ticks. It's nice, but it's also a little scary.
Sadly, about a month ago, I received an e-mail from my editor at the paper for the last three years, informing me that he was stepping down. The nationwide conglomerate that owns both the weekly and the daily paper decided that it was cutting the size of the weekly in half. My editor was going to be forced to work out of an office half an hour away and was going to be reassigned as a reporter if he decided to stay. He was not staying. He was also not sure if there would be room for his columnists anymore. Turns out, there isn't.
Writing that column, roughly 700 words a month, was rarely easy. I missed deadlines, pushed deadlines up to the limit, but it was a great experience overall. I will miss it, but maybe we will take my wife's advice and recast it as a blog on the company's website. It might lose some of its cachet, but will keep getting the word out. We shall see.
Music Time
Why is this song stuck in my head? Who knows? "Doing That Rag" from the Grateful Dead's 1969 album, Aoxomoxoa (Yeah, I don't know what that means, either, or how to say it). This is one of the few songs that was actually better on record than live. Enjoy your week!
My previous boss was an ex-newspaper person herself who had once been the editor-in-chief for one of those weeklies. She knew I liked to write, she knew that the papers always like to get content when it's written for them, and she knew that it was a good opportunity for our organization to raise its profile by getting a column with our name on it. So in a way, I was actually getting paid to write, just not by the newspaper. So, for the last three-and-a-half years I struggled mightily once a month to find something relevant to write about, to make it relevant to my job without it seeming like pure party propaganda, and to make it interesting to the community.
At first, I felt a little like I was screaming into the void (sadly, that website, launched by John Oliver, is now defunct). I opened with a column on lightbulbs, of all things, and how New York State laws would be requiring a phase-out of incandescent bulbs for most household applications in favor of higher efficiency compact fluorescent and LED bulbs. Exciting stuff, right? I wrote a lot about recycling, because there's so much confusion, but I also wrote about invasive species, water quality, pollinators, ticks and, in what might be my favorite column, an homage to goldenrod (which, in my little corner of the world, is now blooming, which makes me happy and a little sad at the same time). Over time, I found something strange: people were reading.
It's nice when someone drops a comment on this blog, nicer still when someone (or several someones) regularly drop comments on this blog. It's nice to know that people are actually reading these words and find something to say about them, and that you're not all a bunch of Russian bots crawling over this site for reasons I can't comprehend. But it's even nicer when the cashier at the local Price Chopper says, "I really like your column" and tells you about her own battles with customers and corporate over the plastic bag recycling program stores are required to have, or when a respected doctor e-mails with advice on solving a problem I griped about by improving signage, or when the crusty old scientist on my board praises my column on ticks because "most of the time, it's 50% bullshit," and he doesn't mean my column, he means what you normally read about ticks. It's nice, but it's also a little scary.
Sadly, about a month ago, I received an e-mail from my editor at the paper for the last three years, informing me that he was stepping down. The nationwide conglomerate that owns both the weekly and the daily paper decided that it was cutting the size of the weekly in half. My editor was going to be forced to work out of an office half an hour away and was going to be reassigned as a reporter if he decided to stay. He was not staying. He was also not sure if there would be room for his columnists anymore. Turns out, there isn't.
Writing that column, roughly 700 words a month, was rarely easy. I missed deadlines, pushed deadlines up to the limit, but it was a great experience overall. I will miss it, but maybe we will take my wife's advice and recast it as a blog on the company's website. It might lose some of its cachet, but will keep getting the word out. We shall see.
Music Time
Why is this song stuck in my head? Who knows? "Doing That Rag" from the Grateful Dead's 1969 album, Aoxomoxoa (Yeah, I don't know what that means, either, or how to say it). This is one of the few songs that was actually better on record than live. Enjoy your week!
Monday, August 6, 2018
Disaster strikes
A couple of days ago, my wife and I were coming home from...somewhere, I don't remember where, exactly. As we came down the road in front of my house I looked up my graceful sweep of overgrown lawn and sat up a little straighter, alarmed by something out of place amidst the ragged grass and weeds: the plastic mesh cage surrounding the chestnut tree had been knocked on its side.
I haven't provided an update on the Famous Chestnut Tree since the end of May, but it was doing quite well. It was definitely in the closest thing to the "leap" phase of the "sleep, creep, and leap" cycle that my botanist board member who used to work for a nursery told me about (i.e., when transplanting trees and shrubs, expect it to take about three years before it really starts growing). While the Famous Chestnut Tree wasn't a threat to reach 20 feet tall this year, what was taking over as the new trunk had put on substantial growth this year, and spawned an additional side branch.
That picture was taken May 28. Just to the left of my pinkie is a bend in the trunk--everything above that bend was this year's growth. Leap, indeed.
As I ran out to check on the Famous Chestnut Tree, I hoped and hoped that the cage had just been knocked over by wind, though I did not really believe this. While we had some massive periods of rain last week, they were calm affairs: little thunder, little lightning--and pretty much no wind.
It was not the wind. This is what I found when I got to the tree (and I apologize, I can't seem to make my camera focus on the tree, so it's a little blurry; but you'll get the picture):
Who dunnit? The culprits are likely one of three: rabbit, deer, or woodchuck. My money is on deer. I'm guessing the opening at the top of my plastic mesh "sleeve" was far too wide and some deer stuck its head right in, knocking the whole thing down. Looks like I need to up my security game a little.
Annoying, but not an end to the Famous Chestnut Tree, not yet. Not clear on the photo, but there are a couple of leaves left (small, yes, but still there), and there are already buds in place. Trees are resilient; I'm confident this one will just get stronger.
In other news...
I've let work on the WiP slide a little bit this last week, though not entirely. I've been participating in The University of Iowa's Moving the Margins: Fiction and Inclusion MOOC. It's a bit of a struggle to keep up, but I'm hanging in there, and I think it's going well. I have been using parts of the WiP in class, and I'm hoping it will help. I've read some fantastic short stories as course reading and I've received some excellent critiques on my assignments (and, hopefully, given some). The discussion areas are still a little clunky, but overall, it's been a positive experience so far.
That's all for me; how's everything with all of you?
I haven't provided an update on the Famous Chestnut Tree since the end of May, but it was doing quite well. It was definitely in the closest thing to the "leap" phase of the "sleep, creep, and leap" cycle that my botanist board member who used to work for a nursery told me about (i.e., when transplanting trees and shrubs, expect it to take about three years before it really starts growing). While the Famous Chestnut Tree wasn't a threat to reach 20 feet tall this year, what was taking over as the new trunk had put on substantial growth this year, and spawned an additional side branch.
 |
| Happier times |
As I ran out to check on the Famous Chestnut Tree, I hoped and hoped that the cage had just been knocked over by wind, though I did not really believe this. While we had some massive periods of rain last week, they were calm affairs: little thunder, little lightning--and pretty much no wind.
It was not the wind. This is what I found when I got to the tree (and I apologize, I can't seem to make my camera focus on the tree, so it's a little blurry; but you'll get the picture):
 |
| Oh, the humanitree! |
Annoying, but not an end to the Famous Chestnut Tree, not yet. Not clear on the photo, but there are a couple of leaves left (small, yes, but still there), and there are already buds in place. Trees are resilient; I'm confident this one will just get stronger.
In other news...
I've let work on the WiP slide a little bit this last week, though not entirely. I've been participating in The University of Iowa's Moving the Margins: Fiction and Inclusion MOOC. It's a bit of a struggle to keep up, but I'm hanging in there, and I think it's going well. I have been using parts of the WiP in class, and I'm hoping it will help. I've read some fantastic short stories as course reading and I've received some excellent critiques on my assignments (and, hopefully, given some). The discussion areas are still a little clunky, but overall, it's been a positive experience so far.
That's all for me; how's everything with all of you?
Monday, July 30, 2018
Off the map
I did something yesterday I hadn't done in two weeks. I wrote. And it felt good.
I've been working on revisions to my latest Mighty Tome, trying in particular to shorten and tighten the narrative, especially in the front end, and it was going pretty well. On July 12, I hit the hundred page mark--and there I sat. For two plus weeks.
Unlike revisions in the past, I decided this time to type the entire, 426-page manuscript over again into a new, blank document, using a heavily-marked printed version as my guide. It was going well, until I started leapfrogging. As an example of what I mean, a series of events that occurred in the Page 150 section of the previous draft are now occurring around page 100. Which is fine--this manuscript does need to be shorter, and it needs to be more urgent in the first half. The problem, though, and the reason I stopped writing, is that I found myself thinking, "Now what? What happens next?"
It's a bit like driving before GPS, when you had a navigator in the front seat with you trying to makes sense of the world using one of those Rand McNally or Hagstrom road maps in the spiral bind. "Turn left at Sycamore," your friend tells you. So you do. "What next?" you say, but now you're off the edge of the map and they're trying to turn to map 34 and find where you are. Or, in more modern terms, it's like somehow getting three steps ahead of your GPS. "In one thousand feet, turn left on Sycamore Street," says the GPS, but you're already on the interstate highway, and the next exit isn't for another forty miles.
In an effort to find my way, I printed out those hundred pages and read through them again (finding a lot of things to fix, damn it). Yesterday, I sat and wrote. It was only 1100 words, but it was a start, and I can see where I need to go next. I'm back on the map.
Do you ever get lost in revisions? How do you find your way back to where you need to be?
I've been working on revisions to my latest Mighty Tome, trying in particular to shorten and tighten the narrative, especially in the front end, and it was going pretty well. On July 12, I hit the hundred page mark--and there I sat. For two plus weeks.
Unlike revisions in the past, I decided this time to type the entire, 426-page manuscript over again into a new, blank document, using a heavily-marked printed version as my guide. It was going well, until I started leapfrogging. As an example of what I mean, a series of events that occurred in the Page 150 section of the previous draft are now occurring around page 100. Which is fine--this manuscript does need to be shorter, and it needs to be more urgent in the first half. The problem, though, and the reason I stopped writing, is that I found myself thinking, "Now what? What happens next?"
It's a bit like driving before GPS, when you had a navigator in the front seat with you trying to makes sense of the world using one of those Rand McNally or Hagstrom road maps in the spiral bind. "Turn left at Sycamore," your friend tells you. So you do. "What next?" you say, but now you're off the edge of the map and they're trying to turn to map 34 and find where you are. Or, in more modern terms, it's like somehow getting three steps ahead of your GPS. "In one thousand feet, turn left on Sycamore Street," says the GPS, but you're already on the interstate highway, and the next exit isn't for another forty miles. In an effort to find my way, I printed out those hundred pages and read through them again (finding a lot of things to fix, damn it). Yesterday, I sat and wrote. It was only 1100 words, but it was a start, and I can see where I need to go next. I'm back on the map.
Do you ever get lost in revisions? How do you find your way back to where you need to be?
Monday, July 23, 2018
Monday Musing: Is this necessary?
Hey, folks, as of my usual post time I am, as we used to say in the days of World of Warcraft, AFK--Away From Keyboard. I'll be traveling home from a weekend away and will almost certainly not feel like posting when I get home. So, here's an actual advance post of things that caught my eye, either this past week, or some time in the not-so-distant past.
Thing One: Giant Jeff Goldblum statue in London.
Did you see this? It turned up last week. And all I can say is, "Why?"
I have to say, I do find it amusing how he seems to float in the air, like it's not just a giant Jeff Goldblum statue, but it's the ghost of a giant Jeff Goldblum statue. I suppose I shouldn't criticize. On Long Island, where I grew up, we have The Big Duck.
Thing Two: Do we need this level of specificity?
I may have posted this one another time, or I may be confusing this blog with my personal Facebook page. Isn't "Apple" the default flavor on Applesauce? Like, if it's not labeled, you just assume it's apple?
Thing Three: Escape hatch
One of my favorite features on newer cars. Just in case the mob tosses you in the trunk with the intent of putting you in a shallow grave somewhere upstate.
I especially like the way the person is jauntily running away from the car.
That's all for me for now. Have you ever seen things that don't seem strictly necessary?
Thing One: Giant Jeff Goldblum statue in London.
Did you see this? It turned up last week. And all I can say is, "Why?"
I have to say, I do find it amusing how he seems to float in the air, like it's not just a giant Jeff Goldblum statue, but it's the ghost of a giant Jeff Goldblum statue. I suppose I shouldn't criticize. On Long Island, where I grew up, we have The Big Duck.
Thing Two: Do we need this level of specificity?
Thing Three: Escape hatch
One of my favorite features on newer cars. Just in case the mob tosses you in the trunk with the intent of putting you in a shallow grave somewhere upstate.
That's all for me for now. Have you ever seen things that don't seem strictly necessary?
Monday, July 16, 2018
Monday Musing: Overburdened, self-inflicted
This morning when I go to work, one of my tasks will be to complete my timesheet for the pay period that just ended. It's going to show a lot of extra time. This past week was a seven-day work week, which included a ten-hour day in the middle of it. So, I've been a little crispy around the edges lately.
I'm also contributing to my own burnout: on top of what was a 60+ hour work week, on Saturday night, after helping to put on a first-time, minor event, I rushed home, changed, and then my wife and I dashed out so we could volunteer for a local charity pouring beer at a concert. I may have written about this last summer: my organization was the charity at one such concert which meant organizing 60-70 volunteers. It's a heck of a lot of fun (and a good fundraiser: my organiztion made over two grand in approximately five hours), but it's exhausting. And then there's the MOOC, the Massive Open Online Course offered through the University of Iowa, which just started yesterday (slots still available, I believe). I did my required readings and discussion participation for the first unit already, and now have to write something.
Ah, writing. Yeah, about that. This week has been unbelievably bad for writing. After getting off to a rousing start on the revisions for my WiP, which included two 3000+ word days in late June and a massive 5600-word day on July 4 (here's to holidays!), this week has been a disaster. In the last five days, I've amassed a whopping total of 347 words, and those 347 came hard and grudgingly. My goal of having this one out on submission by the end of the summer is slipping away.
When we write our stories, the obstacles we force our heroes to overcome can be external or internal. External: my job is really busy this week--I have to work seven days and a night, so I have little time and I'm really, really tired at the end of the day. Internal: I can't say no, thus I overextend myself and leave myself more exhausted with less time to do things I want (or need) to do for myself. Like writing. And I end up crispy around the edges.
Other random thoughts for the week that was and is to be:
Best news all week was the rescue of the boys and their coach from that cave in Thailand. Outstanding work by the rescuers, and very sad to lose one of them in the rescue effort.
I'm not a big soccer guy, but congratulations to France on their World Cup victory.
I read the indictment. I'm really curious about the identities of a) "a candidate for US Congress"; b) "a then-registered state lobbyist and online source of political news"; c) "a reporter"; d) a person who was in regular contact with senior members of the presidential campaign of Donald J. Trump." I suspect more indictments are coming.
That's all I got; what's going on with you all?
I'm also contributing to my own burnout: on top of what was a 60+ hour work week, on Saturday night, after helping to put on a first-time, minor event, I rushed home, changed, and then my wife and I dashed out so we could volunteer for a local charity pouring beer at a concert. I may have written about this last summer: my organization was the charity at one such concert which meant organizing 60-70 volunteers. It's a heck of a lot of fun (and a good fundraiser: my organiztion made over two grand in approximately five hours), but it's exhausting. And then there's the MOOC, the Massive Open Online Course offered through the University of Iowa, which just started yesterday (slots still available, I believe). I did my required readings and discussion participation for the first unit already, and now have to write something.
Ah, writing. Yeah, about that. This week has been unbelievably bad for writing. After getting off to a rousing start on the revisions for my WiP, which included two 3000+ word days in late June and a massive 5600-word day on July 4 (here's to holidays!), this week has been a disaster. In the last five days, I've amassed a whopping total of 347 words, and those 347 came hard and grudgingly. My goal of having this one out on submission by the end of the summer is slipping away.
When we write our stories, the obstacles we force our heroes to overcome can be external or internal. External: my job is really busy this week--I have to work seven days and a night, so I have little time and I'm really, really tired at the end of the day. Internal: I can't say no, thus I overextend myself and leave myself more exhausted with less time to do things I want (or need) to do for myself. Like writing. And I end up crispy around the edges.
Other random thoughts for the week that was and is to be:
Best news all week was the rescue of the boys and their coach from that cave in Thailand. Outstanding work by the rescuers, and very sad to lose one of them in the rescue effort.
I'm not a big soccer guy, but congratulations to France on their World Cup victory.
I read the indictment. I'm really curious about the identities of a) "a candidate for US Congress"; b) "a then-registered state lobbyist and online source of political news"; c) "a reporter"; d) a person who was in regular contact with senior members of the presidential campaign of Donald J. Trump." I suspect more indictments are coming.
That's all I got; what's going on with you all?
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