Thursday, January 28, 2016

A boy, Yasha: George Gershwin in translation




This is a literal translation from a lovely site called Russian Culture. It's one of the best "Life of Gershwin" pieces I've seen because the prose is so delightfully wonky. It's as if you can hear someone with a heavy Russian accent telling the story with great enthusiasm. I omitted the original photos because we've seen them all before, and tried to substitute something slightly more imaginitive.

http://allrus.me/russian-jewish-heritage-george-gershwin/

Russian Jewish heritage George Gershwin. September 26, 1898 in New York City in a family of immigrants from Russia, was born a boy Yasha. The whole world knows him as George Gershwin – self-taught musician of the 20th century and the King of Broadway and Hollywood musicals. 





Gershwin came from Russian Jewish heritage. His grandfather, Jakov Gershowitz, had served for 25 years as a mechanic for the Imperial Russian Army. He retired near Saint Petersburg. His teenage son, Moishe Gershowitz, worked as a leather cutter for women’s shoes; Moishe fell in love with Rosa Bruskin, the teenage daughter of a Saint Petersburg furrier. Bruskin moved with her family to New York, she Americanized her first name to Rose. Moishe, faced with compulsory military service in Russia, followed Rose as soon as he was able.


George Gershwin grew up a tomboy street, to say, a bully, and also studied badly! “Lord, what comes out of this boy!” – pathetically exclaimed dad Gershovich. Everything suddenly changed when at a concert in the school Yasha first heard the famous violinist Max Rosenzweig. One and a half hour after a concert George was waiting for the soloist, ignoring the pouring rain, having found that he had gone the other way, rushed to his home.

They became friends. “Max introduced me to the world of music” – recalled the composer. At the home of Rosenzweig George taught himself to play the piano by ear picking popular tunes. The parents repeatedly tried to hire teachers to him, but George couldn’t get along with them. He remained self-taught.





At 15, George Gershwin found work as a pianist-accompanist at the publishing house “Remick & Co”. Soon he entered theatrical circles, and in 1918 presented his first musical on Broadway. It all ended in failure, however, the young man was not discouraged. He literally filled up Broadway producers with his works.

Finally, in 1924, George Gershwin was lucky. Musical on his music, «Lady, Be Good» has become a real Broadway hit. For this show Gershwin wrote the song, which many consider to be one of the best love ballads of the 20th century – «The Man I love».




By the way, this song, like almost all the songs and musicals of George Gershwin, were written on verses of his older brother Ira – a professional poet and writer. “Rhapsody in Blue” and the musical «Lady, Be Good» brought good money. This allowed the family to move out of the provincial district to their own five-story building at 103 Street and George – a journey through Europe.

In Paris, he met the famous French composer Maurice Ravel, and even tried to persuade the master to give him a few lessons in composition:

– But why study? – Asked Ravel. – You’re already famous. How much do you earn?

– One hundred thousand dollars a year – sheepishly replied Gershwin.

– Awesome! – Exclaimed Ravel – then I’d have to take lessons from you!






From a trip to Europe Gershwin returned with a sketch of the symphonic poem “An American in Paris.” It was sung in the Philharmonic Society of New York and happily forgotten. Many of the brothers Gershwin tunes were later used for writing songs. Well, in 1951, when George was no longer in the world, director Vincente Minnelli made a wonderful musical “An American in Paris” by Gershwin brothers songs. “An American in Paris” is still consistently ranks in the top five films of musicals of all time. By the way, the musical features one more hit of Gershwin «The Foggy Day»

They say that time puts everything in its place! Today George Gershwin is recognized genius of the 20th century. However, praise and serious musicological articles and books obscure the image of Gershwin – cheerful, amorous, thoughtless man, besides a brilliant storyteller and inveterate wit. And, of course, Gershwin never married, he was Don Juan. His affair with actress Paulette Goddard (whom he begged to leave her husband Charlie Chaplin), a French film star Simone, beautiful dancer Margaret Manners, Marguerite Eriksen, Kay Swift, Mollie Charleston – were the main topics of gossip at the time. However, numerous romances, according to Gershwin, were the main source of his inspiration. Generally, in the twenties and thirties Gershwin created musicals one after the other.





Many people are still arguing about the genre of the work. What is this, an opera or a musical? Or maybe something else? It is, of course, the “Porgy and Bess” – A masterpiece by George Gershwin. However, the composer said: “The main thing that the public liked, and genre … the genre is not important.”

Gershwin’s life ended abruptly and tragically. What began with a simple headache, suddenly turned into a chronic and serious disease. When Gershwin began to forget the whole parts of his works, his friends and relatives advised to go to the doctor, who diagnosed a “brain tumor” and advised surgery. The surgeon, specializing in transactions of this kind, was on his way to California to save the life of his illustrious patient, but he was too late -11 July 1937, George Gershwin died





His music still sounds in Broadway shows, Hollywood George Gershwin. His songs are still big hits. Additional facts from Russian Wikipedia: One of the hobbies of Gershwin was drawing. Gershwin was in love with Alexandra Blednykh – she was his best pupil.

Gershwin never married, but he had an only son. Alan Gershwin (b. 1926) was the son of George Gershwin and showgirl Margaret (“Mollie”) Manners. Paul Mueller, Gershwin’s valet, recounts trips made by Gershwin to visit Margaret and the boy, and says that he had no doubt the boy was his son. He also recalls trips made late at night, “undercover,” to the boys home in California. Alan Gershwin recalls receiving regular visits from his famous father growing up, and he received envelopes of cash with each visit to help support him. Peyser provides convincing evidence and reports that Alan Gershwin was actually Gershwin’s son – although the Gershwin family still denies it. Peyser suggests that Ira and Leonore denied Alan’s claims in order to keep him out of George’s inheritance, but once paid him $300 K to keep quiet and leave them alone. (from Joan Peyser’s account of George Gershwin in “The Memory of All That”)







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Challenger: it was 30 years ago today




Today is the 30th anniversary of the Challenger explosion that changed everything for NASA, perhaps forever. I won't tell you what I was doing at the time because it is absolutely mundane, nor am I interested in the "I was feeding the dog", "taking out the garbage" comments that people assume are so fascinating to others.

I recently saw a documentary about this on the Smithsonian channel. John Glenn spoke after the tragedy, stating that it was nothing short of a miracle that nothing like that had happened up to then. It's true. Apollo 13 was one of those episodes of just squeaking by.






It's funny how people use that as a reason why nothing will ever go wrong: "It hasn't happened up to now, so. . . " I most often hear this comment in connection with smoking and other suicidal habits. What it really means is "the odds are more against me all the time". When I say that, I'm always accused of being "negative". I just can't get on the Facebook cheerleading team, I guess.

I won't get into the hubris that brought this about, nor will I say that the whole team should have stood in bed. I'm saying that the numb shock everyone felt (which, by the way, I felt too) had an element not of "this shouldn't have happened", but "this COULDN'T have happened" - mainly because it had never happened before.

The Smithsonian program highlighted one particular engineer who kept warning everyone that Challenger should not be launched in such cold conditions. We all remember those infamous cracked o-rings that brought the whole space program crashing down. Literally. But it turns out there were a number of engineers who sounded that warning. Smithsonian Channel is not above dramatizations, and the "re-enactment" showed this one man pounding on the desk and bellowing at an oblivous team of men staring straight ahead. Afterwards came his account of having a nervous breakdown that sidelined him for four and a half years.





Something like this may have actually happened, but it doesn't tell the whole story. But "one man against the system" (with nobody listening) plays a lot better, makes better TV. The real story is probably much more complicated than the public will ever know.

POST-BLOG: I did a bit of digging on the Challenger whistle-blower in the documentary: one of several, though only his story was highlighted. He died in 2012 after becoming a pariah for "ratting" on NASA, an unthinkable crime (especially since he was right about everything). A more haunted-looking individual I have never seen. Nor an angrier one.

Roger Boisjoly, an aerospace engineer who warned that tragedy could result if NASA's space shuttle Challenger launched in cold weather, has died at the age of 73.

Boisjoly's warnings went unheeded, and Challenger was destroyed 73 seconds after liftoff on Jan. 28, 1986, killing all seven astronauts onboard. An investigation later attributed the disaster to a failed seal on one of the shuttle's solid rocket boosters. Cold weather prevented a rubber O-ring from maintaining its seal, allowing hot gas to leak and damage the shuttle's external fuel tank.




About six months before the disaster, Boisjoly — an engineer at Morton Thiokol, the firm that built the boosters — wrote a memo warning that freezing temperatures could lead to this nightmare scenario.

"The result would be a catastrophe of the highest order — loss of human life," Boisjoly wrote, according to the Associated Press.

Boisjoly and several colleagues reiterated their concerns the night before Challenger's launch, which was scheduled for an uncharacteristically frigid day at NASA's Kennedy Space Center in Florida. However, Morton Thiokol higher-ups overruled the whistleblowers and gave NASA the go-ahead, the AP reported.

Boisjoly testified before the presidential commission that investigated the Challenger tragedy. Later, he said his whistleblower status profoundly affected his personal and professional life, with both neighbors and workmates giving him the cold shoulder.




"When I realized what was happening, it absolutely destroyed me," Boisjoly told the AP in 1988. "It destroyed my career, my life, everything else. I'm just now getting back to the point where I think I'll be able to work as an engineer again."

Boisjoly died of cancer Jan. 6 in Nephi, Utah, about 40 miles (64 kilometers) south of Provo. He was born in Lowell, Mass., on April 25, 1938. He is survived by his wife of 49 years, Roberta, along with two daughters and eight grandchildren, according to the AP.



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Wednesday, January 27, 2016

Pejoration: for women, things just get worse




This is just a snippet from a much longer article in The Guardian about a linguisitic term I hadn't heard before: "pejoration". It's related to the more familiar word pejorative, but I didn't think such a term could be verb-ated.  I HAD however thought about some of these words and why they never seemed to match up to their male equivalent. (NOTE: this term isn't to be confused with peroration, which is oratory, or perforation, which is . .  perforatory.)

The denigration of half of the population has embedded itself in the language in ways you may not even be aware of. Often this takes the form of “pejoration”: when the meaning of the word “gets worse” over time. Linguists have long observed that words referring to women undergo this process more often than those referring to men. Here are eight examples:

Mistress

The female equivalent of “master”, and thus, “a woman having control or authority” – in particular one who employs servants or attendants. It came into English with this meaning from French after the Norman conquest. From the 17th century onwards, it was used to mean “a woman other than his wife with whom a man has a long-lasting sexual relationship”.





Hussy

This once neutral term meant the female head of a household. Hussy is a contraction of 13th-century husewif – a word cognate with modern “housewife”. From the 17th century onwards, however, it began to mean “a disreputable woman of improper behaviour”. That’s now its only meaning.

Madam

The female equivalent of “sir”, a woman of high rank, is still used in formal contexts as a mode of address. From the late 18th century it was also used to mean “a conceited or precocious girl or young woman; a hussy, a minx”, alternatively, a kept mistress or prostitute, and finally, from the late 19th century, the female manager of a brothel.

Governess

From the 15th century onwards, “a woman who holds or exercises authority over a place, institution, or group of people”. Compare it with “governor”. Over time it drastically narrowed in scope and fell in status, coming to mean “a woman responsible for the care, supervision, or direction of a person, typically a child or young lady”.




Spinster

This occupational term originally meant simply someone, usually a woman but possibly a man, who spun yarn or thread. Since a woman without a husband might have to rely on spinning as a source of income, the term became associated with unmarried women, eventually becoming the legal way to refer to one. The more loaded use of it to refer to “a woman still unmarried; esp. one beyond the usual age for marriage, an old maid” begins in the early 18th century.

Courtesan

One of the most dramatic shifts in meaning, from the female equivalent of “courtier” – someone who attends the court of a monarch – to a form of prostitute, which is now its only meaning.





Wench

A 13th-century word meaning a female infant or a young unmarried woman quickly acquired negative connotations: from the late 14th century, in Langland and Chaucer it is used to mean “a wanton woman; a mistress”.

Tart

Collins dictionary says that this is a 19th-century contraction of “sweetheart”, a term of endearment, particularly to women. From 1887, however, it is attested as meaning “a female of immoral character; a prostitute”.

Thinking about the male equivalents of some of these words throws their sexism into sharp relief. Master for mistress; sir for madam; governor for governess; bachelor for spinster; courtier for courtesan – whereas the male list speaks of power and high status, the female list has a very different set of connotations. These are of either subordinate status or sexual service to men. The crucial thing to remember is that at one time, they were simply equivalents.






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The Canadian Identity: is there anything left of it?





(Actual Amazon reviews of Red Rose tea, which recently came out with a "new and improved" version. All of them gave it one star.)

Why every company feels the need to reinvent a perfectly good product defies me. This "Our best ever" is Red Rose's version of "New Coke". Basically this new "renewable plant material" bag is an excuse to use 10% less tea per bag, which is significant enough to mean that the cup of tea that you've come to love, now tastes like Weasel P!$... With any luck after the initial sales bump from people like me buying up all of the old stock that I can find, they will fix this blunder., and focus on advertising meaningful metrics such as no pesticides found in 3rd party testing, etc.

I have been drinking Red Rose tea for decades. I would occasionally purchase another brand, but always came back to Red Rose because it WAS superior. If I could give the new, supposedly improved tea a minus instead of one star I would. I purchased 3 boxes, my usual purchase at one time. I had to throw out more than half the bags. Not only is there less tea in the bag, which I was aware of, the bag material is terribly thin and flimsy. Most of the bags were broken and the ones that weren't broken opened when hot water was poured over them. If I wanted loose tea I would have purchased loose tea. One of the new tea bags does not make a decent cup of tea, two bags are required and hopefully they don't break. I have had to strain more cups of tea in the last months than I have in my entire life.







I have been a Red Rose tea drinker for years, and I have to say that the new bags from 100% renewable plant material are terrible, in my opinion. I used them for the first time this weekend at an event where we were making large pots of tea (4 bags/pot) and every pot we made had tea leaves in it because one of the bags would come apart at the edges. The previous gauze bags were sturdier.

I'm totally bummed by this new product. Having tried a few cups of the new tea -- adding additional straining for broken bags -- I just tossed my large box of unused tea bags into the compost. The taste is simply not right and who wants to strain tea bags??? I've been drinking tea for over 40 years and I am going to try another brand or maybe some coffee.

"Our best ever"??? I think not. This tea used to be a staple item every morning. Now, I've been forced to change to another brand. You tried to cut costs. You changed the taste. You failed.







Awful - I contacted Red Rose and they said not only did they change their bags but the actual tea leaves! Not the same. I tried Salada, while it's not bad, you have to leave it soaking for a long time to get any taste. Red Rose sent me a coupon for a free purchase which I have not yet used cause I don't know if I want to keep drinking either of their teas (Salada/Red Rose). If anyone from Red Rose reads this, change it back. If anyone here leaving a review has found an alternative that tastes good (Tetley is not an option) please write the name in your comments.

Absolutely TERRIBLE tea!!! I've been drinking this tea for 40 years, but their "new and improved" Orange Pekoe tea is weak and tasteless. Where is the flavour? This tea was good until recently, now I recommend you buy another brand, but not Tetley, it's even worse.

These new tea bags are as foul as the language they evoke. I suggest everyone buy Tetley and add your own rooibos (pronounced royboss) tea. See for yourself if it doesn't compare well with the late Red Rose itself.

A big fat FAIL to Red Rose and their "new and improved taste"!







OK, that's a lot of comments, but there IS a point to all this.

In the past year or so, I kept noticing there was something "off" about my tea, I couldn't taste anything any more, and there was no body to it. It never got any darker in colour even if you brewed it for 20 minutes. Using two tea bags made no difference at all, and there seemed to be far less tea in them. Even that heavenly smell was different.

This is no small matter.  I was weaned on Red Rose. My son wanted some in his milk when he was six. Now it tastes like dishwater, like nothing. 

You must understand that Red Rose tea is a huge part of Canadian identity, like the homey, grungy old Zellers stores which were also taken away from us (to be replaced by Target, which bombed miserably within a year).

Red Rose is not just a Canadian tradition but an institution, and well do I remember those dark-orange cups of fiercely strong brew that my Granny used to drink out of a saucer. The tannin got on your teeth and made them all gritchy, and your throat made that constricting noise when you swallowed. It was wonderful stuff, bracing, and the quality pretty much held until the last year or so, when - oh God - they came out with "our best ever!"





This is always a euphemism for "we're cutting corners and raising the price". I kept dismissing it or wanting it not to be true, then today I went on Amazon.ca and found all these one-star reviews, and I agree with all of them. This tea is now atrocious, and there is no excuse for such a steep decline in a product we used to count on. 

I have a theory about this. Red Rose  isn't making any money for whichever massive conglomerate owns it (I've lost track because big fish are constantly being swallowed up by bigger fish). They see their fan base as little old ladies who are dying off. This is largely true: their diehard fans ARE older and are used to the stout-hearted tea of old, the bags of which you could actually use more than once. And then there were those little ceramic figurines: oh God, how I wish I had kept at least one of them!




Maybe they think "new and improved"/"our best ever" will attract consumers of less than a hundred, but I doubt it. It's a traditional product for traditional people, meaning soon it will likely just be discontinued. The search is on for something drinkable, and I am going to start with bulk tea bags at Superstore or Save-on-Foods. No kidding, it might be better. The no-name coffee is actually quite good: we switched when Nabob "improved" their blend. 

Slowly and steadily, small pleasures are being withdrawn from my life. This reminds me of the duck park where we used to walk three or four times a week, our quiet little haven teeming with wildlife. It's now being ripped apart by steamshovels and paved over for an amphiteatre. My lifelong favorite tea, the ONLY tea I would drink, has been taken away from me, rendered washy and tasteless. It's not the same stuff! We're Canadians and you don't fuck with our Red Rose tea, do you hear me? Do you? . . . Is anybody listening?


POST-BLOG BREWINGS. This is a review of "new" Red Rose tea that I stumbled upon today. We had a nice Facebook conversation about it.

Steve Cormier reviewed Red Rose Tea — 1 star

I would rate the new Red Rose a minus 5 if it were possible. I find it rather humorous reading some of these replies and reviews regarding the quality of the tea as of late. I suppose it's fair to assume that some people have yet to experience the taste of the “New and Improved” tea bags so I'll give them the benefit of the doubt. Claiming that this new product you guys are trying to pass off as Red Rose still tastes the same is a load of rubbish. It's resembles nothing of the quality that once was Red Rose and anyone who claims that they've been drinking Red Rose for a long time and still likes the taste of the new tea has no business reviewing the product or has no knowledge of what a good cup of tea should taste like. Or they're simply paid to post positive comments and reviews on social networking sites in an attempt to elude customers. But the fact remains. The tea tastes different, it tastes awful. I now refer to it as dishwater tea. Growing up Red Rose was a household name. It's was almost just another way of saying tea. My parents, grandparents and other friends and family members consumed it daily. For me it was a coffee in the morning then on to Red Rose for the rest of the day. Drinking several pots throughout the day. So I would know thing or two about how it should taste after drinking it for 30 plus years. As far as my mother and father are concerned its more like 60 years.




Every time I'm in the tea/coffee isle in my local grocery store I talk to other customers about the changes to Red Rose and every single person I talk to has the same feelings about this once great product. “It's not the same... It's different!.. It doesn't taste as good!” In my mind it's fairly obvious what the masterminds at Unilever have done to destroy the taste of what used to be the best cup of tea in Canada, you've sacrificed quality for profits. This is no longer a Canadian brand as it is owned by Unilever and that lot has no loyalty to anything but profits. The teabags break apart in the tea pot and after it steeps. It no longer has the rich, robust flavor, nor color that it once had. So sadly after drinking the product for generations my family has switched and will not be coming back. I'm quite certain that there is a great many other tea drinkers who feel the same way as my family does. I can see it in the grocery store every time I'm there cause the price of Red Rose is going down and it's on sale more often now then it used to be. Obviously no one wants your tea anymore. Or at least not anyone who drinks a lot of tea and knows what a good cup of tea is supposed to taste like. Thank you Unilever for taking Canada's favorite tea and flushing it down the pot.




POST-POST. Today I took a look in my cupboard and saw a very large box of Red Rose tea bags. I decided to do a little investigative reporting, took a tea bag out and really looked at it for the first time.

I had noticed already that they were much lighter than before, and seemed to contain very little tea. The bag was strange-looking, felt slick,  and seemed impermeable, almost like plastic. It's made of some sort of politically-correct fibre now, but it looks like insulation of some kind.

When I cut it open, I jumped. Literally jumped. There's no TEA in there! Instead there is a fine, blackish powder. Not a tea leaf in sight. It was completely shocking.

This is no longer tea, but most people won't unseal a bag to find that out. I tried to pretend it was the same, though I wondered over and over again why I wasn't getting any TEA out of these things, kept adding bags and brewing it longer and longer, to no avail.

Frustrated at the number of tea bags I had left, I decided to try a bold experiment. I cut open three bags of black powder and emptied them into my small (one-mug) teapot. I filled it 2/3 full with boiling water, and let it sit for FIFTEEN minutes. Would this be a drinkable-enough brew to use up the 85 or so Red Rose tea bags I had left?

I had to strain it through a sieve, as I didn't have a tea strainer. But it didn't matter. The "tea leaves" in the hot water poured out bizarrely, like very wet sand, and heaped up in a brown pile that looked like - I have to say this - dog shit. It had a little point on the top and everything.

I am sorry to say that there is still no taste to this stuff. It brewed darker, but there is still no tea aroma, and no discernible flavour.

Red Rose tea. . . is bad tea.



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Let's Talk: today and every day





Every day, and in every way, I am hearing a message. And it's not a bad message, in and of itself. 

It's building, in fact, in intensity and clarity, and in some ways I like to hear it.

It's about mental illness, a state I've always thought is mis-named: yes, I guess it's "mental" (though not in the same class as the epithet, "You're totally mental"), but when you call it mental illness, it's forever and always associated with and even attached to a state of illness. You're either ill or you're well; they're mutually exclusive, aren't they?




So the name itself is problematic to me. It seems to nail people into their condition. Worse than that, nobody even notices. "Mentally ill" is definitely preferable to "psycho", "nut case", "fucking lunatic", and the list goes on (and on, and on, as if it doesn't really matter what we call them). But it's still inadequate.

There's something else going on that people think is totally positive, even wonderful, showing that they're truly "tolerant" even of people who seem to dwell on the bottom rung of society. Everywhere I look, there are signs saying, "Let's reduce the stigma about mental illness."

Note they say "reduce", not banish. It's as if society realizes that getting rid of it is just beyond the realm of possibility. Let's not hope for miracles, let's settle for feeling a bit better about ourselves for not calling them awful names and excluding them from everything.





I hate stigma. I hate it because it's an ugly word, and if you juxtapose it with any other word, it makes that word ugly too. "Let's reduce the hopelessness" might be more honest. "Let's reduce the ostracism, the hostility, the contempt." "Stigma" isn't used very much any more, in fact I can't think of any other group of people it is so consistently attached to. Even awful conditions (supposedly) like alcoholism and drug abuse aren't "stigmatized" any more. Being gay isn't either. Why? Compassion and understanding are beginning to dissolve the ugly term, detach it and throw it away. 





"Let's reduce the stigma" doesn't help because it's miserable. It's the old "you don't look fat" thing (hey, who said I looked fat? Who brought the subject up?). Much could be gained by pulling the plug on this intractibly negative term. Reducing the stigma is spiritually stingy and only calls attention to the stigma.  

So what's the opposite of "stigmatized"?  Accepted, welcomed, fully employed, creative, productive, loved? Would it be such a stretch to focus our energies on these things, replacing the 'poor soul" attitude that prevails?





But so far, the stifling box of stigma remains, perhaps somewhat better than hatred or fear, but not much. Twenty years ago, a term used to appear on TV, in newspapers, everywhere, and it made me furious: "cancer victim". Anyone who had cancer was a victim, not just people who had "lost the battle" (and for some reason, we always resort to military terms to describe the course of the illness). It was standard, neutral, just a way to describe things, but then something happened, the tide turned, and energy began to flow the other way.

From something that was inevitably bound to stigma in the past, cancer came out of the closet in a big way, leading to all sorts of positive change that is still being felt. But first we had to lose terms like "victim", because they were unconsciously influencing people's attitudes. We had to begin to substitute words like "survivor" and even "warrior". 





One reinforced the other. The movement gave rise to much more positive, life-affirming, even accurate terminology. That's exactly what needs to happen here. We don't just need to "reduce the stigma": we need to CAN that term, spit on it, get rid of it once and for all, and begin to see our mental health warriors for who and what they really are. They lead the way in a daring revolution of attitudes and deeply-buried, primitive ideas, a shakeup and shakedown of prejudice that is shockingly late, and desperately needed.





Why do we need to do this so badly? We're caught and hung up on a negative, limiting word that is only keeping the culture in the dark.  I once read something in a memoir that had a profound effect on me: "Mental illness is an exaggeration of the human condition." This isn't a separate species. Don't treat it as such. It's you, times ten. It's me, in a magnifying mirror. Such projections of humanity at its finest and most problematic might just teach us something truly valuable. Why don't we want to look?








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Such a douche





































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Tuesday, January 26, 2016

I am



The Twelve Steps: is there another way?




THE TWELVE STEPS


1. We admitted we were powerless over alcohol… that our lives had become unmanageable.

2. Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.

3. Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood Him.

4. Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves.

5. Admitted to God, to ourselves, and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs.

6. Were entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character.

7. Humbly asked Him to remove our shortcomings.

8. Made a list of all persons we had harmed, and became willing to make amends to them all.

9. Made direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would injure then or others.

10. Continued to take personal inventory and when we were wrong promptly admitted it.

11. Sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God as we under-stood Him, praying only for knowledge of His will for us and the power to carry that out.

12. Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to alcoholics and to practice these principles in all our affairs.






THE HUMANIST ALTERNATIVE


1. We accept the fact that all our efforts to stop drinking have failed.

2. We believe that we must turn elsewhere for help.

3. We turn to our fellow men and women, particularly those who have struggled with the same problem.

4. We have made a list of the situations in which we are most likely to drink.

5. We ask our friends to help us avoid these situations.

6. We are ready to accept the help they give us.

7. We earnestly hope that they will help.

8. We have made a list of the persons we have harmed and to whom we hope to make amends.

9. We shall do all we can to make amends, in any way that will not cause further harm.

10. We will continue to make such lists and revise them as needed.

11. We appreciate what our friends have done and are doing to help us.

12. We, in turn, are ready to help others who may come to us in the same way.




Only a few years ago, on my first blog on OpenSalon, I posted a piece called Why I Quit AA. Within a few hours, I was astonished to receive a torrent of something like 150 abusive, contemptuous, mocking comments from hard-core AA members who obviously felt threatened by what I was saying. One person said I must have been going to meetings in a mental institution (the ultimate insult, writing off those with mental illness as if they did not count as human). Only a small handful of comments, largely shouted down by ever-more-aggressive responses, supported anything I was saying. 

I did not trash AA, gave it credit for helping me make changes in my life, and (I believe) was quite respectful in my approach. The hate-storm it provoked made me wonder why AA saw itself as so benevolent. Where was the live-and-let-live attitude it supposedly embodied? Weren't these people actually proving some of the points I was making about AA fundamentalism and rigid insistence on adhering to the letter of the law? What the hell was going on here?

Now this message is seemingly everywhere, or all over the internet at least, and I don't see anyone getting clobbered to nearly that degree. But it makes me wonder if all those abusive people really believed they were practicing one of the most important traditions of AA, which states that it must never involve itself in any controversy. These people were only too quick to jump in, as if they had tasted blood in the water. Such heresy must be quickly clapped down, attacked to such a degree that the heretic would be silenced.





If all this was designed to turn my negative attitude towards AA around, it didn't exactly achieve that. Arm-wrestling to change someone's opinion never does. Once I got over being devastated, I felt vindicated. These people were obviously not perceptive enough to know that they were handing me a gift: written, even published proof that my observations about AA's insularity and rigidity were largely correct.

The steps have been rewritten lots of times, and this is another attempt, which, by the way, I did not write. I do not expect a torrent of abuse from this, largely because the tide is turning, not "against" AA but against seeing it as the only choice for people who are suffering from the devastating effects of alcoholism.

What is my attitude now? I can sum it up in three little words.

Do what works.




KICKER/afterthoughts. That reference to OpenSalon brought back another unpleasant memory: the way I was basically railroaded out of the blog network by people's snobbery and exclusivity. I had the effrontery to write about Sylvia Plath and used a photo of her that I had seen everywhere. One of my OpenSalon critics told me I should have contacted Plath's estate to get formal permission to use the photo with my story. I countered that with "I had the impression it was in the public domain." Her response: "I'm speechless." 

Meantime one of her cohorts had chimed in and was discussing my stupidity, their comments going back and forth in my full view. Obviously they wanted me to hear this. Most of it was in extremely rarefied, even codified literary jargon about Plath and her genre, designed to make anyone who read it feel like an ignorant worm. But most of it was just oh, so delicately-phrased mudslinging. They weren't even criticizing me directly; it was "and another thing she's doing" and "I'm not surprised at the way she" and "why do people like her have the idiocy to", until I couldn't stand it any more.





In this age of Pinterest, no one gets credit for anything, be it photo or anything else. It's all up for grabs. You can "pin" it and no one says boo, because they can't complain any more. It won't get them anywhere. This worked in my favour only once, when someone posted a link to my piece I See Dead People: Victorian Post-Mortem Photography, which has so far had something like 120,000 views.

I'm not saying swapping things around is "good", but I am saying that on the internet, it's the standard now. But I was crucified for it in the most public way. Soon I left OpenSalon and started my own blog, hoping I wouldn't be run out of Dodge in a similar fashion. So far I haven't been. But if that ever happens again, all those comments will be immediately deleted.

Be warned.





  Visit Margaret's Amazon Author Page!


Monday, January 25, 2016

Men have been shot for less than that!




Uninspired, and feeling more than a little sick, I've dredged up some good vintage ads from the million-and-one sites that post them. Years ago I remembered a lot of those bizarre old comic book ads, but when I talked about them people looked at me like I was crazy. Turns out I was right (you bastards!) This one needs no comment.




This one is, somehow, related. It's an old one, but no stranger than the foot-pumped vibrators doctors used to induce "paroxysm" (orgasm) in "hysterical" women. Before that, they used their fingers. Reminds me a bit of Marvel the Mustang.




I plan to get one of these.




See, I told you the moon landing never happened!




How ARE they, anyway?




Some say this one is a hoax, but I wonder. It might make a hit way down south, where Mountain Dew is the drug of choice for the under-six set.




Handy for those suicidal impulses.




I remember these ads for Midol, used for "periodic pain" which I never quite understood. Did this relate to the periodic table of elements? I am posting two of these because the hair styles are just too gorgeous to omit. The backcombing is pure art.




Self-explanatory.




Ummm. . . 




Just what is the groom going to DO with this?




TOM: Skip the wise-cracks, funny man! I like these "Stretchy-Seat" Munsingwear SKIT-Shorts . . . brief, airy, plus a little support. They stretch up and down. And how come you're so modest. . . you with a pair of nothing-muches right out of the little boys' department?

AL: I resent those words. . . speaking for Munsingwear, and myself, too. These SKIT-Trunks give me everything you've got, including that Munsingwear masterpiece, the exclusive "Stretchy-Seat". . . plus the extra leg-inches that I like.




TOM: Well, I'll ride right over you with this. It's Munsingwear's SKIT-Shirt, and a better shirt was never made. Fits like my skin, and gives with every move, with bottom shaped to avoid bulk.

AL: Mine's the same, too. It's a Munsingwear SKIT-Winger with crew neck. Wear it solo for sport, inside for business. Protects underarm of outer shirt, a go-getter for blotting up perspiration.




"It's the Stretchy-Seat!"




  Visit Margaret's Amazon Author Page!