Here is a link to an article by my old grad school professor, for whom I maintain an ongoing non-sexual, non-political, 100%-intellectual crush. He is one of the smartest and most well-read people I have ever met, and certainly holds the singular honor of being my best experience under the tutelage of a Republican.
Jim Pinkerton Rocks.
Jim Pinkerton at Newsday
Thursday, February 24, 2005
Hung Like a Norse
Friends, I just came across an article from The Guardian from October 2004. The article discusses an academic work of tremendous import to our world. It is an ouevre that will join works such as Marx's Communist Manifesto, Euclid's Elements, Aristotle's Nicomachean Ethics, Adam Smith's Wealth of Nations as a truly epochal work that will reverberate geo-socio-politically for generations.
I will let the first paragraph of the newspaper article speak for itself:
"Being hung like a Norse was key to social hierarchy and being considered a real man in 10th-century Icelandic society, according to a new paper, Size Matters: Penile Problems in Sagas of Icelanders, presented to the International Medieval Congress in Leeds, England, this week" by Carl Phelpstead.
Thank G-d for this, um, seminal work. One can only begin to imagine the literally *tens* of people's lives that have been affected by this paper. I myself have often pondered not only Icelandic Sagas in general but whether the protagonists in those sagas had performance and size anxiety regarding their genitalia. And finally someone has answered this most pressing question. On behalf of a grateful nation, I thank you, Dr. Phelpstead.
Now--about that cure for cancer....
I will let the first paragraph of the newspaper article speak for itself:
"Being hung like a Norse was key to social hierarchy and being considered a real man in 10th-century Icelandic society, according to a new paper, Size Matters: Penile Problems in Sagas of Icelanders, presented to the International Medieval Congress in Leeds, England, this week" by Carl Phelpstead.
Thank G-d for this, um, seminal work. One can only begin to imagine the literally *tens* of people's lives that have been affected by this paper. I myself have often pondered not only Icelandic Sagas in general but whether the protagonists in those sagas had performance and size anxiety regarding their genitalia. And finally someone has answered this most pressing question. On behalf of a grateful nation, I thank you, Dr. Phelpstead.
Now--about that cure for cancer....
Sunday, February 20, 2005
Take a Pill
Okay, so the writer's block has lifted. I am working, sadly, and the TV is on in the background. I have, I kid you not, just seen the most insane commercial ever. It is for "Altovis" and it begins thusly: "Life requires energy, and too many people suffer from fatigue as a result of too much work, too little sleep, life pressures...etc etc." (That's a paraphrase, but it's pretty accurate).
Okay, let me get this straight. There is a pill for FATIGUE! Not Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, not chemo-induced, anemia-related fatigue. Nope. Just "fatigue." More hysterically, the commercial goes on to say, "Symptoms of fatigue include tiredness, irritability, inability to focus..." I pretty much laughed out loud at that because it describes most of us most of the time. We are all fatigued. It may be stupid, but it did give me an idea for making tons of money: I'm going to sell EPpes-Essen (yiddish for "something to eat").
EPpes Essen is available only by prescription (written by me), and sold (by me) to the consumer at a low, low cost. My commercials will start with, "Too many people go to work hungry, do housework while hungry, cook dinner while hungry, usually from not eating enough. But now there's EPpes Essen; it's a new drug for people who can't get through a day without suffering from hunger. Symptoms of hunger include lightheadedness, tummy rumbling, irritability and bad breath. This trailblazing new product, sometimes known by its generic name "food" will revolutionize the way Americans treat their hunger. Ask your doctor whether EPpes Essen is right for you..."
Who wants to invest?!
Okay, let me get this straight. There is a pill for FATIGUE! Not Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, not chemo-induced, anemia-related fatigue. Nope. Just "fatigue." More hysterically, the commercial goes on to say, "Symptoms of fatigue include tiredness, irritability, inability to focus..." I pretty much laughed out loud at that because it describes most of us most of the time. We are all fatigued. It may be stupid, but it did give me an idea for making tons of money: I'm going to sell EPpes-Essen (yiddish for "something to eat").
EPpes Essen is available only by prescription (written by me), and sold (by me) to the consumer at a low, low cost. My commercials will start with, "Too many people go to work hungry, do housework while hungry, cook dinner while hungry, usually from not eating enough. But now there's EPpes Essen; it's a new drug for people who can't get through a day without suffering from hunger. Symptoms of hunger include lightheadedness, tummy rumbling, irritability and bad breath. This trailblazing new product, sometimes known by its generic name "food" will revolutionize the way Americans treat their hunger. Ask your doctor whether EPpes Essen is right for you..."
Who wants to invest?!
I'm Phoning This One In
Y'all. I ain't feelin' it today, so I am offering up the last resort of the writer's blocked: Quotes. Yup. Quotes. A little something for you to read, but nothing I've had to write on my own. Maybe I should re-spin this to be more of a "compiled by SSHaggis," but I think you'd see right through that. Anyway, enjoy. And happy president's day.
(I do promise that none of these quotes are by eminent quotees like Anne Coulter or Bob Dornan; this is a family blog after all.)
Love cures people, both the ones who give it and the ones who receive it.
Dr. Karl Menninger
Some people see things that are and ask, Why? Some people dream of things that never were and ask, Why not? Some people have to go to work and don't have time for all that...
George Carlin
A positive attitude may not solve all your problems, but it will annoy enough people to make it worth the effort.
Herm Albright
If it's very painful for you to criticize your friends - you're safe in doing it. But if you take the slightest pleasure in it, that's the time to hold your tongue.
Alice Duer Miller
Never judge someone by who he's in love with; judge him by his friends. People fall in love with the most appalling people. Take a cool, appraising glance at his pals.
Cynthia Heimel
People need loving the most when they deserve it the least.
John Harrigan
I argue very well. Ask any of my remaining friends. I can win an argument on any topic, against any opponent. People know this, and steer clear of me at parties. Often, as a sign of their great respect, they don't even invite me.
Dave Barry
I don't believe in an after life, although I am bringing a change of underwear.
Woody Allen
Politics is not the art of the possible. It consists in choosing between the disastrous and the unpalatable.
John Kenneth Galbraith
(I do promise that none of these quotes are by eminent quotees like Anne Coulter or Bob Dornan; this is a family blog after all.)
Love cures people, both the ones who give it and the ones who receive it.
Dr. Karl Menninger
Some people see things that are and ask, Why? Some people dream of things that never were and ask, Why not? Some people have to go to work and don't have time for all that...
George Carlin
A positive attitude may not solve all your problems, but it will annoy enough people to make it worth the effort.
Herm Albright
If it's very painful for you to criticize your friends - you're safe in doing it. But if you take the slightest pleasure in it, that's the time to hold your tongue.
Alice Duer Miller
Never judge someone by who he's in love with; judge him by his friends. People fall in love with the most appalling people. Take a cool, appraising glance at his pals.
Cynthia Heimel
People need loving the most when they deserve it the least.
John Harrigan
I argue very well. Ask any of my remaining friends. I can win an argument on any topic, against any opponent. People know this, and steer clear of me at parties. Often, as a sign of their great respect, they don't even invite me.
Dave Barry
I don't believe in an after life, although I am bringing a change of underwear.
Woody Allen
Politics is not the art of the possible. It consists in choosing between the disastrous and the unpalatable.
John Kenneth Galbraith
Thursday, February 17, 2005
My Unhappy Happy Hour
I am tempted to write an entire "What Not To Say" post, but I think that the majority of people probably don't need to be told that behavior such as I'm about to share with you is not only beyond comprehension but beyond rude.
I was at a happy hour tonight where we were all toasting each other's various successes and joys in life. So the toasts came around to me and everyone started asking about the process of the adoption, yadda yadda. So I made some quick comment about how the homestudy was not as bad as I had anticipated, and how the social worker visits your house and checks you out. To which one of the women there responded, "Oh my god, they totally did that when I adopted my dog! They wouldn't let us take the dog from the shelter until they had done a home visit! I couldn't believe it! I totally understand how nerve racking that was for you because we were so nervous that they wouldn't give us the dog!"
You've got to be f*&&%%% kidding me with this, right?
What part of me telling you about my daughter reminds you of the time you rescued a DOG? If we were toasting my pregnancy, you wouldn't have jumped in with "Yay you're pregnant! And so is my dog!" The two things don't go together in the least. And yet me adopting my child is somehow comparable in your head to the time you adopted an ANIMAL? (Not that animals aren't valued and loved members of a family, but one generally does not equate a woman's childbirth--to her face--with a dog's litter of puppies.)
I just looked at her and gave one of those, "I think you may be speaking Urdu right now, because I have no comprehension of what you just said." Another woman across the table gave me a "wow" look, which made me feel better; like I'm not just being oversensitive. The conversation moved on, but I was irritated for the rest of the "happy" hour because she was so dumb that it clearly didn't occur to her what she had just said.
I turned it over and over in my mind, trying to figure out if it is the word "adopt," as in "adopt a highway," "adopt a poor family at Christmas," "adopt a pet" that created the equation in her mind. Then I thought it was "home study" or whatever. And then my friend L explained it perfectly: "Some people just like to talk about themselves and will take any opening in a conversation to create a connection that allows them to hijack it and point it towards themselves; it had nothing to do with her thinking your child is a dog or that you are "rescuing" her from a shelter. She just wanted to make the conversation all about her, since she wasn't getting toasted by anyone."
Amen. So I am now off my hyper-vigilant DefCon1 stance, but I still hope I know her when she decides to have kids. Because, you know, by then I'll have a dog... :)
I was at a happy hour tonight where we were all toasting each other's various successes and joys in life. So the toasts came around to me and everyone started asking about the process of the adoption, yadda yadda. So I made some quick comment about how the homestudy was not as bad as I had anticipated, and how the social worker visits your house and checks you out. To which one of the women there responded, "Oh my god, they totally did that when I adopted my dog! They wouldn't let us take the dog from the shelter until they had done a home visit! I couldn't believe it! I totally understand how nerve racking that was for you because we were so nervous that they wouldn't give us the dog!"
You've got to be f*&&%%% kidding me with this, right?
What part of me telling you about my daughter reminds you of the time you rescued a DOG? If we were toasting my pregnancy, you wouldn't have jumped in with "Yay you're pregnant! And so is my dog!" The two things don't go together in the least. And yet me adopting my child is somehow comparable in your head to the time you adopted an ANIMAL? (Not that animals aren't valued and loved members of a family, but one generally does not equate a woman's childbirth--to her face--with a dog's litter of puppies.)
I just looked at her and gave one of those, "I think you may be speaking Urdu right now, because I have no comprehension of what you just said." Another woman across the table gave me a "wow" look, which made me feel better; like I'm not just being oversensitive. The conversation moved on, but I was irritated for the rest of the "happy" hour because she was so dumb that it clearly didn't occur to her what she had just said.
I turned it over and over in my mind, trying to figure out if it is the word "adopt," as in "adopt a highway," "adopt a poor family at Christmas," "adopt a pet" that created the equation in her mind. Then I thought it was "home study" or whatever. And then my friend L explained it perfectly: "Some people just like to talk about themselves and will take any opening in a conversation to create a connection that allows them to hijack it and point it towards themselves; it had nothing to do with her thinking your child is a dog or that you are "rescuing" her from a shelter. She just wanted to make the conversation all about her, since she wasn't getting toasted by anyone."
Amen. So I am now off my hyper-vigilant DefCon1 stance, but I still hope I know her when she decides to have kids. Because, you know, by then I'll have a dog... :)
On a Lighter Note...Let's Talk Black
When did black become more than one color?
I ask because I am wearing black leather knee boots, black nylons, a tweedy/houndstoothy skirt with black, brown and green elements, a black turtleneck sweater and a v. cool denim jacket with a nice sparkly brooch.
I got dressed this AM, looked in the mirror and thought, "Rowwrrr, baby! You are a vixen!" Not really. I actually thought, "Wow, my butt doesn't look as big in this skirt as I thought it would..."
So anyway. I leave the house to come to work and all of a sudden realize around mid-commute: I look homeless. You know what I mean? How homeless people wear every piece of apparel they own no matter what the style, color, temperature or season? As it turned out in the cold light of day, my black leather boots are blacker than my nylons to the extent that now my nylons look kind of navyish-black. My skirt now looks funny against the nylons, and the black of my turtleneck is a more "flat" (no jokes please!) black than the more vibrant black in the skirt and the boots. To wit, I am essentially wearing four different colors in one outfit and I am now only an empty shopping cart away from looking truly destitute.
Surely fashion cannot be this complicated! I didn't even get dressed in the dark! I swear! How can I wear four black garments and have none of them match?! I'd say that the solution is to start wearing brown instead, but don't even get me started on the 6 gajillion ways that could go...
I ask because I am wearing black leather knee boots, black nylons, a tweedy/houndstoothy skirt with black, brown and green elements, a black turtleneck sweater and a v. cool denim jacket with a nice sparkly brooch.
I got dressed this AM, looked in the mirror and thought, "Rowwrrr, baby! You are a vixen!" Not really. I actually thought, "Wow, my butt doesn't look as big in this skirt as I thought it would..."
So anyway. I leave the house to come to work and all of a sudden realize around mid-commute: I look homeless. You know what I mean? How homeless people wear every piece of apparel they own no matter what the style, color, temperature or season? As it turned out in the cold light of day, my black leather boots are blacker than my nylons to the extent that now my nylons look kind of navyish-black. My skirt now looks funny against the nylons, and the black of my turtleneck is a more "flat" (no jokes please!) black than the more vibrant black in the skirt and the boots. To wit, I am essentially wearing four different colors in one outfit and I am now only an empty shopping cart away from looking truly destitute.
Surely fashion cannot be this complicated! I didn't even get dressed in the dark! I swear! How can I wear four black garments and have none of them match?! I'd say that the solution is to start wearing brown instead, but don't even get me started on the 6 gajillion ways that could go...
Early Mother's Day
The Standard
The above article talks about the one child policy in China, the current steep legal consequences to having unauthorized children and perhaps a hope for some change in that regard. It talks about the challenges facing women who know they are carrying a girl.
As I read the article, all I could feel was overwhelming gratitude to my daughter’s birthmother for bringing her into the world. Indeed, as the date to adopt my daughter comes ever closer, and as my love for her deepens exponentially with each passing day, I find myself thinking a lot about her birthmother and what she must have felt to give her up.
I have not yet met my daughter, have not yet breathed in that magical “baby smell” that all little ones have and that connects them to you elementally; I have not yet dried her tears—or caused her any! And yet I simply cannot imagine my life without her. Can’t bear the thought that anything will get in the way of the official start to our life together. Can’t bring myself to think that there will be bad weather on the flight day, that we’ll miss the connecting flight, that there will be a typhoon, a traffic jam, a power outage, a swarm of locusts and frogs, anything, anything that will come between me and my daughter. I know right now as I sit here that no one and no thing and no force on earth is going to be a match for me once the trip is underway. We will get there. We will become a family.
And I haven’t even met her.
So--what of her birthmother? The woman who gave birth to her and held her in her arms before letting her go? I have no idea whether she was 16 or 36, rural or urban, married or unmarried. What I do know is that she committed an act of bravery that most of us in the West cannot even begin to fathom. First, she got pregnant and carried her baby to term, even though there are penalties for an unauthorized pregnancy and multiple, coerced opportunities to end it. Secondly, she risked arrest and prosecution for then ‘abandoning’ the baby in a place where she was sure to be found within minutes, but that therefore magnified her own risk of being seen and reported to the authorities. All the way to the end, she risked her own safety and wellbeing to make sure her daughter would be found and have a chance at a better life.
It is tempting when adopting to want to erase any mention of your child’s origins because some part of you wishes those origins had started with YOU and you feel some low level of discomfort and threat about some other person for whom your child may have feelings or questions or longings. I don’t. I just, simply, feel gratitude.
Where could I even start to give thanks to this woman? What words could I possibly put together to do her actions justice without romanticizing them? I wondered what prayers I could offer up to bring her peace and comfort in her moments of wondering where her baby is now.
I have thought about her a lot, trying to put myself in her shoes. I have not yet met my daughter and I already know that the combined forces of heaven and hell could not separate me from her, that there is no landscape too far, too high, too scary, too deep that I would not traverse to keep her safe.
And then I realized that that must be exactly what her birthmother felt. She took incredible chances with her own future to ensure her daughter’s future. She traversed those scary landscapes to ensure her daughter’s future. From her actions, it seems to me that she possessed the essential elements required for motherhood except the ability to keep a daughter.
She has no name and no face, but she has my profound respect and gratitude.
The above article talks about the one child policy in China, the current steep legal consequences to having unauthorized children and perhaps a hope for some change in that regard. It talks about the challenges facing women who know they are carrying a girl.
As I read the article, all I could feel was overwhelming gratitude to my daughter’s birthmother for bringing her into the world. Indeed, as the date to adopt my daughter comes ever closer, and as my love for her deepens exponentially with each passing day, I find myself thinking a lot about her birthmother and what she must have felt to give her up.
I have not yet met my daughter, have not yet breathed in that magical “baby smell” that all little ones have and that connects them to you elementally; I have not yet dried her tears—or caused her any! And yet I simply cannot imagine my life without her. Can’t bear the thought that anything will get in the way of the official start to our life together. Can’t bring myself to think that there will be bad weather on the flight day, that we’ll miss the connecting flight, that there will be a typhoon, a traffic jam, a power outage, a swarm of locusts and frogs, anything, anything that will come between me and my daughter. I know right now as I sit here that no one and no thing and no force on earth is going to be a match for me once the trip is underway. We will get there. We will become a family.
And I haven’t even met her.
So--what of her birthmother? The woman who gave birth to her and held her in her arms before letting her go? I have no idea whether she was 16 or 36, rural or urban, married or unmarried. What I do know is that she committed an act of bravery that most of us in the West cannot even begin to fathom. First, she got pregnant and carried her baby to term, even though there are penalties for an unauthorized pregnancy and multiple, coerced opportunities to end it. Secondly, she risked arrest and prosecution for then ‘abandoning’ the baby in a place where she was sure to be found within minutes, but that therefore magnified her own risk of being seen and reported to the authorities. All the way to the end, she risked her own safety and wellbeing to make sure her daughter would be found and have a chance at a better life.
It is tempting when adopting to want to erase any mention of your child’s origins because some part of you wishes those origins had started with YOU and you feel some low level of discomfort and threat about some other person for whom your child may have feelings or questions or longings. I don’t. I just, simply, feel gratitude.
Where could I even start to give thanks to this woman? What words could I possibly put together to do her actions justice without romanticizing them? I wondered what prayers I could offer up to bring her peace and comfort in her moments of wondering where her baby is now.
I have thought about her a lot, trying to put myself in her shoes. I have not yet met my daughter and I already know that the combined forces of heaven and hell could not separate me from her, that there is no landscape too far, too high, too scary, too deep that I would not traverse to keep her safe.
And then I realized that that must be exactly what her birthmother felt. She took incredible chances with her own future to ensure her daughter’s future. She traversed those scary landscapes to ensure her daughter’s future. From her actions, it seems to me that she possessed the essential elements required for motherhood except the ability to keep a daughter.
She has no name and no face, but she has my profound respect and gratitude.
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