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July 27, 1999

On vacation -- will return on August 14th!
 

July 21, 1999
CONGRATULATIONS! to Erin, Myke and Tamela for hitting the quarterfinals in WoF, to Mary Soon Lee for her publication in Interzone as well as her Italian reprint in Intercom and to Tippi for making the Nebula preliminary ballot!

I've read all the fascinating journal entries on reactions to the death of John F. Kennedy Jr., about the vulture press and the incessant tv coverage.  I never cease to marvel at the ability to transform tragedy into entertainment.  However, the issues it brought up for me are a little different than the reactions I've read from the great NAW folks, so here goes.

The Cult Of Kennedy ....
Over the weekend, one tv commentator went so far as to call the Kennedys "American Royalty" and JFK Jr. our "prince."  On one level, perhaps it's true.

Since the 1940s, the Kennedy family has been a focal point of American politics.  Joe Sr.'s mechanizations stunned insiders with its boldness; "new money" positioning itself to take on the old, an upstart Irish daring to challenge the DAR brigade, buying access to the hallowed halls of respectability and actively grooming his son Joe Jr. to assume the leadership position that Sr. himself could never attain.  It took gall, enough to fill Chesapeake Bay, and Joe Sr. was up to the task.  But fate intervened to derail the old man's dreams.  Joe Jr. died in WWII at the age of 29.

But the train was uprighted and placed back on the track, with John F. Kennedy Sr. as engineer with Old Joe still as fireman providing the fuel.  The goal was far more important than the personality.  Thus, a dynasty was born.

Despite his wealth, despite his exclusive education, despite his Irish Catholic heritage, JFK became Every Man.  Indeed, the latter, with all of it's working class connotations, served as a connection to the masses, to all those who considered themselves disenfranchised by the Insiders.  The US adopted JFK and his entire family as their own.

But when the outsider becomes the insider, external threats abound.  After the assassination of JFK, a clan which had closed ranks to achieve Joe Sr.'s goal of a Kennedy in the White House had no choice but to batten down further in self-defense, and keep shifting the mantle of responsibility to stay on the path to the common goal.   From Joe Sr., to Joe Jr., to John Sr., to Robert, hovering briefly over Edward only to float away at Chappaqickick, then drifting on to the next generation.  Individuals die -- The Family lives on.

The Family is perhaps a concept unfamiliar to many, but not to the Kennedys, and not to me.   In the big picture of The Family, the individual does not matter except as a member of the greater group.   For me, this explains the notorious risk-taking and self destructiveness of the younger generations.  (I won't go into details, but you're familiar with the last 20 years headlines.)   The need for an individual identify is inborn, but when it cannot be acknowledged consciously it finds its own way to fulfillment subconsciously.  And sometimes the only way to escape Train Destiny is to get thrown off of it.

I'm not surprised by the lack of joint statements from the Bessette/Kennedy families, although I'm saddened by it.  JFK Jr.'s wife, in spite of the marriage, was not part of The Family, any more than his mother was.  Perhaps eventually Carolyn would have been absorbed, "become" a Kennedy, over the course of decades as other spouses have.  Membership is bestowed, not assumed.  That's how The Family works.  And The Family continues.  In times of trauma, the only protection is to close ranks and revert to the old patterns which have sustained them in times past.

 All this, while living in a fish bowl.  Each death, each tragedy is out on a global scale, with the world watching.  We, via the press, peer into the corners and try to wedge our way into the private wake, assuming that because we consider them part of our family that they should return the sentiment.  They don't, of course.  Nor should they.   The claims of Kennedy royalty came from us, and while the Joe Sr. may have exploited that to the ends of The Family, it is an illusion.   It's time to let go emotionally, with respectful gratitude for what John and Bobby and the rest gave us, and allow them to grieve in private, in their own way.

As a family.

July 20, 1999
email woes ....
One would think that with 2 email accounts I should be fairly safe from screw-ups, right?  Not so.  Netcom is in transition as it becomes part of the Mindspring network and is suffering irregular outages, and today sff.net seems to be down.  If anyone has emailed me in the last 2 weeks and not gotten a response, please try again.  Chances are I didn't get it, or my reply didn't go through.

Public endeavors ....
On Saturday we attended the local Northwest Ren Faire and had a great time.  It was opening day, so there were still a few hitches in the cast's timing and a couple of subplots weren't implemented yet, but this group puts on the most enjoyable experiences around!  The "characters" and village remain the same from year to year, but each successive season furthers the over-all plot and character growth from the previous one.  It's nice, too, being remembered from last year.

One new twist this time around was some "gypsy" dancing (just a couple of moves to set the mood), non choreographed into the story and just acting as a time filler from some of the gypsy characters.  At one point they ended up with 10 minutes to fill, and so did the "teach the audience" thing.  I ended up on stage as part of it, and quickly found myself the center of attention because I knew how to dance.  (I did warn them that I do Egyptian, not tribal.  )  So I drum soloed for awhile.  My first public performance!   To the best of my knowledge, there were no cameras present, thank goodness.

July 15, 1999
There's a fabulous article in Salon Magazine this morning dealing with last weekend's Aryan March 15 miles away in Coeur d' Alene.  It's entitled Nazi Family Values.  The writer makes some thoughtful observations, such as this one.

This is frighteningly true, and it's about time someone noticed the "benefit" the average citizen derives from the Aryans.  Witness the public idiocy of Idaho Rep. Helen Chenoweth, (who once publically stated that salmon cannot be endangered because she can buy it in a can at the grocery store) who stated:

"The warm-climate community just hasn't found the colder climate that attractive. It's an area of America that has simply never attracted the Afro-American or the Hispanic."

That's the silent approval, sans committment, that allows hate to flourish.  Read the article.  Ms. Benfer tells the truth.

July 14, 1999
Tonight I went to Lawrence Block's reading of Burglar In The Rye.  There were about 80 people in attendance, held at Aunties Bookstore, a delightful turn-of-the-century 3 story stone building downtown.  I'm pleased that he chose to speak there, at our sole remaining independent, rather than at one of the chains.  It was a very intellectual crowd -- none of those questions that make guests (and any writers in the audience) cringe.  Almost all of them were committed fans.

First impressions: Mr. Lawrence is an engaging speaker, and reads very well.  Unfortunately, he bore a striking resemblance to G. Gordon Liddy.  Thank goodness the similarity ended when he opened his mouth.   He read a humorous scene from the middle of the book -- a nice trick that I made note of to pass on to friends.  It avoids the "preview problem" of someone opening the book later and thinking they've already read it because they recognize the first few pages.  He was the consummate professional.  He handled all questions graciously, but chose to avoid writerly questions.  The focus was kept tightly on the book he was promoting.  It would have been nice to get a little insight into his process, but the group was first and foremost a fan crowd.

After listening to him, he's permanently engraved in my mind as Mr. Block, not Lawrence.  He's too removed to even think of on a first name basis, and that's not a bad thing.  His books stand on their own, not propped up by a cult of personality, and I respect that very much.

All in all, a fun evening.

July 12, 1999
creak, shuffle, groan ....
I took a 3 hour dance workshop today.  The first half was drum solos and the 2nd part was undulations.  Lots of fun, lots of sweat, lots of good friends.  All in all, a grand time.  Now if only I could convince my joints that they had fun, too.... 

Here's some pictures from the last hafla I attended.  My teacher/friend A'isha Azar (about whom I wrote the essay Honesty) is in the 2nd row, center.  Medea, next to her on the left, is also a friend and fellow class member.  One of the things I enjoy most about haflas is the variety of styles represented.   Going through the pictures on that page for examples:  Charise-Cynar (Egytian-influenced American), Medea (Egyptian beledi), A'isha (Egyptian), Shyamali (Indian classical), Kairo (American fusion), Malidoma (African tribal), and Nerine Avital (American fantasy tribal).

Overheard ....
Meredith: He makes sumo wrestlers look like Kate Moss.
Tony: Is Kate Moss fat?
Meredith: She's  skinny.
Tony: Oh.  I think we have some Kate moss growing in the backyard.
 

July 10, 1999
Today's recommended reading: Will by G. Gordon Liddy (pub. 1980)

I confess -- I have a morbid fascination with G. (George) Gordon Liddy.  Looking for a ballgame on the radio this spring, I stumbled onto his radio talk show.   It was sort of like driving past a train wreck; I was horrified, but couldn't look away.  So I didn't change the dial, and listened on my long drive home from dance class.  A caller question about the best firearm to purchase, followed by a question about potty training (with an extremely enlightened attitude), followed by a tirade against President Clinton or the Washington Post .... It was not what I expected at all.   All with a sense of humor.  The man is intelligent, frighteningly so.

Being of a formative age in the Watergate era (click here for a timeline of those days), I watched every minute of the hearings that summer, trying to understand the whole fiasco.  My first impression of Liddy was that he looked like Hitler.  Listening to his radio broadcast, I could still see that face.  After several weeks of my secret vice, I picked up Will at the used book store.  I wanted to fill in the gaps my adolescent brain had missed in the Watergate days.

If ever there was an approachable study of the development of sociopathy, this is it.  I've read it twice already, marking sections to study the next time I construct a villain.  It's a horrifying look into the appeal of Fascism, and the mechanizations of self-justification.  And I wonder how his parents could have ignored the signs.

On Thursday nights, I still listen to his broadcast while driving home.  It's best to know what a person like that is up to.

July 9, 1999
Twenty-two days and counting until Cruise Launch.  Unfortunately, the tickets have not arrived!  Travel agent hasn't returned my call to ask about it, and I'm getting ... annoyed.  Yes, that's the polite way to put it.

The details, which I hinted at a month ago and never got around to really talking about.  August 22 is our 18th anniversary, and in that time, we've never taken "just us" vacation.  First Kerwin was in school, then we had babies, then we moved 1,700 miles away from family and had no one to care for them, etc.  Now they're 16, nearly 13, and 9, so when we ran across an irresistable price on a Caribbean cruise, we jumped at it.

Scheduling was difficult, but we managed to block out the first week of August to get away.  The grandparents will split the care of the kids, so we're leaving approx. July 27th and driving to Spencer, Iowa.  We've become experts at doing it straight through in 26 hours, including gas/food stops.  The trick to travelling like that with children is to do as much of it at night as possible (they sleep instead of getting carsick), so we leave Spokane around dinner time, hit Missoula, MT 3 hours later for gas and the traditional bednight snack at Finnigans on the River.  Then the kids sack out while Kerwin and I split-shift drive until sunrise in Rapid City, SD.  Time out for a leisurely breakfast, then the last 7 hours home.  This year, Julie will be able to help drive that stretch.

In other words, to get from Spokane, WA to Spencer, IA, jump on I-90, drive 25 hours, take a right and drive until you hit a town that has stoplights. 

The kids are thrilled to be able to spend 8 days with their grandparents ("Papa goes fishing!") and the grandparents are delighted to have that much time with them.  Julie was only 15 months old when we moved away, and Meredith & Tony were born out here, so they've missed so many of those special grandparent moments that I took from granted as a child.

We fly out of Spencer (gawd, I hope that plane doesn't run on rubberbands) to Miami, and depart from there.  Highlights are Key West, Cozumel, Jamaica, and Grand Cayman.  I'm most excited about going to Tulum, Mexico to see the Mayan ruins.  Wish I could have a week there.  I'm finally starting to believe this is really going to happen, but I won't relax until I have tickets in my hand.

Still, I'm nervous about the whole thing.  Upscale shopping, to me, is going to Target instead of Wal-mart or my favorite recycled clothing shop, and my kind of upscale dining is Red Lobster.  I don't have a clue how to operate outside my own world.  I feel like I'm going to have DOESN'T BELONG HERE stamped on my forehead.  Add to that a recently diagnosed hearing imparement ....  suffice it to say that I'm literally having nightmares of standing in a middle of a packed dining room in cut off jeans and seeing everyone else in designer gowns while they scold me for being there but I can't understand a word they're saying when I ask for directions to get off the ship.

There's nothing like anticipation. 

July 7, 1999
We went out for Chinese food over the weekend, which of course involves rewriting the fortune cookies.  Meredith, as always, read hers as "Bad luck and extreme misfortune will infest your pathetic soul for all eternity."  Such an inspiring child. 

Some fun news: my Quantum contract arrived yesterday!

Congratulations to Kurt "Master of the Hat Trick" Roth on his 3rd sale to 100 Crafty Little Cat Crimes and to Vera Nazarian on her upcoming citizenship!  Also to Lazette on her Very First Sale, and to Ron on his sale to Pulp Eternity, and to everyone else I've missed.

Today's music recommendations....
I got a great cd this week -- Warda's Mawasem.  My favorites are Mawasem and Min Radak Reedo.  Check out some Real Audio samples!

July 4, 1999
I'm now back on-line after another "too stupid to live" computer incident.  Whatever you do, do not depend on Best Data tech support.

The "too stupid to live" part originally applied to me.   (Now, I apply it to Best Data, also, but that part comes later.)  Since Netcom has been absorbed by Mindspring, I now have access to 56K lines.  Way cool, I thought, since I was limited to 28.8 before, even though my modem supposedly knew how to say vroooom.  But when I tried, I couldn't hit higher than 26.4.  I checked the info pages and discovered that my Smart One 56F modem was "v90 capable" but needed a flash upgrade to make it happen.  So, trusting soul that I am, I downloaded the upgrade from Best Data's site.

The download took seconds, but the upgrade itself took 6 hours to process to the modem via xmodem.  That should have been a tip-off.  Finally, it hit 100%.  Great!  Now I could test it out!  Wrong.  Immediately an error message flashed saying uh-oh, modem not responding as expected.  In truth, it wasn't responding at all, so I couldn't even do the restore I'd so carefully prepared according to instructions.  Then the computer crashed.  On reboot, it informed me that not only did I lack a modem but that my floppy drive seemed to be gone, too.

I didn't panic.  I calmly picked up the phone and dialed the (toll call) support number.  A recording informed me it was after business hours and directed me to an 800 number for "24 Hour/7 Day Express Support at $7 per call.  I called.  I gave them my credit card number.  They directed me through several debug routines, had me edit my bios, disable/reenable ports, and finally in desperation told me to physically move the modem to a different slot.  While I was doing this, we were ... disconnected.  (ie, they hung up on me.)  I dailed them back.  Lo and behold, on that same "24 Hour/7 Day" paid support line, I instantly got a recording saying they were closed and to call back during normal business hours.

So I went back to their webpage to try email support.   There was no email address (except for sales) but there was a form to fill out, which I did, listing in detail everything that had happened and how, then hit the SEND button.  Surprise, surprise -- it returned an error saying access forbidden, can't accept my complaint.

I was able to scrounge slower modem card out of an older computer, so I'm back on line, but I ended up with a permanently dead $130 modem, a $7 charge on my credit card (which I intend to dispute, btw), and denied even the satisfaction of complaining to them directly.  I will not ever, for any reason, purchase any Best Data product again.

July 1, 1999
At the movies ....

Last night we saw Wild Wild West.  Since I have little interest in Star Wars (I didn't even get around to seeing Return of the Jedi on video until last month), this summer has been a bust for movies I wanted to see.  WWW, however, was just what I needed.  It's a fun movie, a concept that lately Hollywood seems to have confused with juvenile, gross and puerile.  Best of all, Adam Sandler is not in it.

Wild Wild West is colorful and brightly lit, with eye-candy sets and relaxed cinematography.  There are no manic camera cuts to distract from the detail--I was able to enjoy just looking at it.  The female secondary characters also qualified as pretty sets, but what the heck--so does Will Smith in black hat and duster.  His Jim West wasn't a white character played by a black actor, as I expected, the kind where you're "not supposed to notice" race.  Although the character has more in common with Cleavon Little in Blazing Saddles than Mario Van Peebles in Posse (if you haven't seen this movie, RENT IT), race was an issue--albeit a small one--but handled with humor.  Since the villain is a double amputee, the jabs are well balanced between them.

Smith's solo comedic timing could use a little work, but he was at his best when sparring with Kevin Kline's Artemis Gordon.  I'm not a Kline fan in general, and in this case he reminded me just a little too much of Robin Williams on prozac, but he developed the role well.  Kenneth Branagh was wonderful (isn't he always?) as Loveless--straight out of a comic book but with unexpected depth.  Loved his Cajun accent!

Most of Loveless' inventions seemed logical, driven by function instead of "gee, I've got an idea for a really cool mechanical doohicky - now what can he use it for?"  I enjoyed the incredible detail that went into depicting the hydraulics which made them work.  (Ok, so there wasn't a steam generator on the wheelchair, but I'll forgive them that.)  The mechanical spider was great fun.  With the exception of the open platform of the spider's head which should have tossed the passengers off, or at least made them lurch, it made sense.

The sight gags are priceless.  I've never gotten the humor concept of men in drag = laughs, but Smith as a really bad stereotype of a bellydancer is not to be missed!  Also, watch for the visual puns.  The ones I caught included the RCA dog and ET, but I know there were many I missed.  A good reason to see it again. 

From the irreverence files ....
Weird Al Yankovic has set The Phantom Menace to the tune of Don McLean's classic American Pie.  The song is The Saga Begins.  See the video or read the lyrics here, if you dare.  A sample:

Oh my my, this here Anakin guy
May be Vader someday later - now he's just a small fry
And he left his home and kissed his mommy goodbye
Sayin' "Soon I'm gonna be a Jedi"
"Soon I'm gonna be a Jedi"

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Past months:
June, 1999
May, 1999
April, 1999
March, 1999

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