It seems that every direction we turn, from our kids to magazines to TV to our friends, people are saying that we, as a culture, do not listen well. If you are having a problem with a partner it is because one or both of you don't listen carefully to what the other says. If your teenager is angst ridden it is because he or she is not understood by his or her parents. The bottom line is that we are losing our ability to communicate effectively by oral and aural means. Life moves at such a fast pace that people no longer eat leisurely meals together, gather around the hearth in the evenings, make an actual phone call. Much communication happens via "a quick email" or a text message. In both cases, vocal inflections and body language, essential elements in human interaction, are absent. No wonder people misunderstand or don't "hear" one another.
Having said all this, there are times when we are better off not listening carefully because quite often, people say really stupid things. Today was the day for "I can't believe s/he just said that" moments.
Thursdays are the day for Spirit of Knitting editorial meetings. We gather at our remote location - the local Borders bookstore. We really do get work done but we also knit, which, as you might imagine, peaks the interest of many who are strolling through the bookstore. Alissa was working on a sock today. A fifty-ish woman struck up a conversation with the three of us. "Oh look. Socks soar on two needles." (A reference to a book by that name. The woman then proceeded to tell us how she hates to sew things together - that she never makes anything that requires sewing seams. After a brief but polite conversation, she then said that she was heading home to finish the front of her sweater. Okay, if you are making a sweater front and you never sew things together, this could be interesting. No back? No sleeves? Or, are the pieces just set in place but not actually connected? Does she not realize how stupid this sounded?
Then, we were looking at a knitting magazine. Alissa came across the following in print: "a cucumber shaped box" Never mind the images that this conjures up. Let's think purely about the geometry of the situation. Angles. No angles. Cucumber-shaped box. Perhaps this is a square peg-round hole issue. No matter how you look at it, this description sounds stupid.
That's not all folks!
BK and I were sitting at a local coffee shop after doing a little set and prop work for Mash.. She was finishing the last few rows of a baby afghan that is nearly 36 inches square and was spilling off her lap to the floor. Her needles were flying in the hope that she could get it bound off before we met Mike and the girls for dinner. Again a woman who was 55-60 struck up a conversation. "Are you knitting or crocheting?" BK replied nicely, "I am knitting." With a burst of energy, the woman exclaimed, "I love to knit!" You love to knit? If you can't tell the difference between knitting and crocheting by the tools someone has in their hand and the look of the yard long fabric, are you sure you love to knit? C'mon. Are you listening to yourself?
Are people so desperate for someone to talk to that they will risk sounding like an absolute idiot just to have a real face-to-face interaction? Perhaps the woman from Borders and the one from the coffee shop could get together. They would have lovely conversations with one another. The two of them could explain to us the cucmber-shaped box. Then those of us who really do listen to what people say would not have to endure stupid moments like the ones that have dominated today. The fact that these three incidents happened all in a day scares me! Maybe the smart people will be out tomorrow. If not, I may have to borrow my daughter's Happy Bunny T-shirt that says, "Make the stupid people shut-up!"
Okay. I know I am sounding like a mean snob, but really . . .
Thursday, August 30, 2007
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Mixing Work And Play
I have mentioned several times that my older daughter loves to cook - and I must admit she is a fine, vegan, chef. About this time last year, early in the discussion of colleges, she considered applying to the Culinary Institute of America. Though I was confident that if this was the direction she chose to follow all would be well, I did have some reservations. In her case, cooking has always been a way to escape from the pressures of school. Should she make the culinary arts her profession, her place to escape would be gone. The same is true for any of us who make our leisure activities into work.
For me, photography is a place to escape. Most often, the only person I have to please with my pictures is myself. If I am unhappy with a shoot, I have the luxury of deleting the pictures and trying again another day. As a professional photographer, there are no do-overs. Screwing up some one's wedding pictures . . .well, you can imagine.
Tonight I was asked to take some publicity shots for Denton Community Theatre's production of MASH. I take theatre pictures all the time but usually they are for the cast members only. As long as I have at least one good picture of each cast member, people are happy. These are usually candid rather than posed pictures. I am not fond of taking "set-up" pictures, but that is what was needed tonight. I was a little stressed.
To add to the stress, when I got to the theater, I realized that neither of my camera batteries had a full charge. This is the mark of a rank amateur. So, rather than take the photos at the top of rehearsal, we waited until the end which allowed the batteries to charge. Disaster averted.
When I got home, I immediately had to sift through the hundred pictures or so and decide which ten best represented the show. Damn good question! I did get some good shots photographically speaking, but which ones were the best for publicity? I really was not sure.
The show director wanted me to email him the pictures tonight rather than deliver them on a CD tomorrow. We all know high resolution picture files are huge. If they even send, it is usually a very slow process. And, many servers will not allow emails that big to be delivered. That was the case here. The file was undeliverable because it was too big. I had to send several emails with only a few pictures each. So far (keep your fingers crossed) nothing has been returned to me. I am taking that as a good sign.
Even though the photos were staged, I enjoyed talking the pictures. It was a challenge to try to pick the best photos to send . Though editing pictures can be a tedious job, it was not too bad tonight. Primarily because I did not do too much editing - a little cropping and some minor balance corrections. I definitely did not do anything major. Still, the pressure of having to have the perfect picture, from both a technical and an artistic perspective, to send to the publicist TONIGHT, no second chances, was a bit daunting.
Though taking pictures tonight felt more like work than play, no money was exchanged so I suppose technically it was still play. What a relief!
Here are a few of the shots.
For me, photography is a place to escape. Most often, the only person I have to please with my pictures is myself. If I am unhappy with a shoot, I have the luxury of deleting the pictures and trying again another day. As a professional photographer, there are no do-overs. Screwing up some one's wedding pictures . . .well, you can imagine.
Tonight I was asked to take some publicity shots for Denton Community Theatre's production of MASH. I take theatre pictures all the time but usually they are for the cast members only. As long as I have at least one good picture of each cast member, people are happy. These are usually candid rather than posed pictures. I am not fond of taking "set-up" pictures, but that is what was needed tonight. I was a little stressed.
To add to the stress, when I got to the theater, I realized that neither of my camera batteries had a full charge. This is the mark of a rank amateur. So, rather than take the photos at the top of rehearsal, we waited until the end which allowed the batteries to charge. Disaster averted.
When I got home, I immediately had to sift through the hundred pictures or so and decide which ten best represented the show. Damn good question! I did get some good shots photographically speaking, but which ones were the best for publicity? I really was not sure.
The show director wanted me to email him the pictures tonight rather than deliver them on a CD tomorrow. We all know high resolution picture files are huge. If they even send, it is usually a very slow process. And, many servers will not allow emails that big to be delivered. That was the case here. The file was undeliverable because it was too big. I had to send several emails with only a few pictures each. So far (keep your fingers crossed) nothing has been returned to me. I am taking that as a good sign.
Even though the photos were staged, I enjoyed talking the pictures. It was a challenge to try to pick the best photos to send . Though editing pictures can be a tedious job, it was not too bad tonight. Primarily because I did not do too much editing - a little cropping and some minor balance corrections. I definitely did not do anything major. Still, the pressure of having to have the perfect picture, from both a technical and an artistic perspective, to send to the publicist TONIGHT, no second chances, was a bit daunting.
Though taking pictures tonight felt more like work than play, no money was exchanged so I suppose technically it was still play. What a relief!
Here are a few of the shots.
Monday, August 27, 2007
Finally, An Answer!
If you are a regular reader here, you may remember my daughter's question from a month ago concerning her appearance and how she was cast in a stage production. Well, she finally has an answer.
Over the weekend, while she was out with a drama buddy from school, I got a phone call from her in which, in a very excited voice, she said, "Mama, I'm a whore! I'm a whore!" I responded like any good mother would with, "I am so proud of you! And, I guess this means you don't look like a boy. " I know I should not be proud of having raised a whore, but . . .Well, maybe this all goes back to that HPV thing.
Really, I am proud of her. Last week she auditioned for two different shows. The first was Dracula. She was happy with her read and felt like she had done the best that she could. The next evening, she auditioned for The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas. Though after she had read for Dracula she was a little more interested in the show, her passion really lies with doing musicals. All of us who call ourselves her family encouraged her to go to both auditions because you can never have too much experience with that part of theater. Two days after the first audition, Erin got a call from the director of Dracula saying that she did not feel comfortable casting her because of her age. This particular script is a bit risque.
She did not put her actual age on her Whorehouse audition form; she put an age range that she thought she could realistically play - 15-22. She is 14.
Erin knew that she had to come across older than she actually is; she also knew that the selection she chose to sing would impact that tremendously. So what did she choose? "Dance Ten, Looks Three" from A Chorus Line. And which 16 measures did she sing? The part that begins with "Tits and ass, got myself a fancy pair . . ." Needless to say, she did not look or sound like she was only 14. And, she got a part in the show.
Once all the casting was complete, she did not end up being a whore. She is in the chorus for the preacher, a towns person, and part of the Texas Aggie drill team, the last requires her to do a tap routine with a )male) doll. But, she really is not a whore!
Despite the whole whore thing, doing this show is a great opportunity for her. She is working with some very talented and experienced older actors. I suppose it goes without saying that she is the youngest cast member. Also, all of her roles are heavy dance parts. In the triple threat, singing, acting, dancing, she feels like her dancing is the weakest. So here is Erin's chance to grow in that area.
The icing on the cake here is that the director who cast her as the gander in Honk is also in Best Little Whorehouse. We'll see if he thinks she looks like a boy in this show!
Over the weekend, while she was out with a drama buddy from school, I got a phone call from her in which, in a very excited voice, she said, "Mama, I'm a whore! I'm a whore!" I responded like any good mother would with, "I am so proud of you! And, I guess this means you don't look like a boy. " I know I should not be proud of having raised a whore, but . . .Well, maybe this all goes back to that HPV thing.
Really, I am proud of her. Last week she auditioned for two different shows. The first was Dracula. She was happy with her read and felt like she had done the best that she could. The next evening, she auditioned for The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas. Though after she had read for Dracula she was a little more interested in the show, her passion really lies with doing musicals. All of us who call ourselves her family encouraged her to go to both auditions because you can never have too much experience with that part of theater. Two days after the first audition, Erin got a call from the director of Dracula saying that she did not feel comfortable casting her because of her age. This particular script is a bit risque.
She did not put her actual age on her Whorehouse audition form; she put an age range that she thought she could realistically play - 15-22. She is 14.
Erin knew that she had to come across older than she actually is; she also knew that the selection she chose to sing would impact that tremendously. So what did she choose? "Dance Ten, Looks Three" from A Chorus Line. And which 16 measures did she sing? The part that begins with "Tits and ass, got myself a fancy pair . . ." Needless to say, she did not look or sound like she was only 14. And, she got a part in the show.
Once all the casting was complete, she did not end up being a whore. She is in the chorus for the preacher, a towns person, and part of the Texas Aggie drill team, the last requires her to do a tap routine with a )male) doll. But, she really is not a whore!
Despite the whole whore thing, doing this show is a great opportunity for her. She is working with some very talented and experienced older actors. I suppose it goes without saying that she is the youngest cast member. Also, all of her roles are heavy dance parts. In the triple threat, singing, acting, dancing, she feels like her dancing is the weakest. So here is Erin's chance to grow in that area.
The icing on the cake here is that the director who cast her as the gander in Honk is also in Best Little Whorehouse. We'll see if he thinks she looks like a boy in this show!
Friday, August 24, 2007
What Not To Wear
It is rare that I sit down with the intention of watching TV. For some reason, I had nothing that I had to do tonight so I reached for the remote. The first thing that I saw on the Guide was the Miss Teenage USA 2007 pageant. Now I know why I don't watch TV. The choices on the other zipty billion satellite channels we have were no better. I finally settled on What Not To Wear. This is rather ironic because frankly, I never really think about what not to wear. My philosophy is if it is comfortable, wear it.
Tonight's show happened to be a reunion show; eight women, who had previously been on the show, were back to see if they have been able to maintain their new fashion identity. The program began with highlights from each of their previous appearances. The longer I watched, the more amazed I became at the idea that people had come into these women's worlds and completely changed their sense of themselves. I was most surprised at the woman who was told that she could no longer wear her hooded sweatshirt while she was out (in the cold) walking her dogs. Do the dogs really care what she is wearing? Oh wait, we are concerned about what other people have to say about what we wear. Are we really so shallow that if we see a woman out on a Saturday morning walking her dogs in a sweatshirt that we will think no class, uninteresting, unattractive? Or what about the young special education teacher who said that she would rather put her energy into enriching the lives of eight disabled children in her classroom than be exhausted by the time she got to school from going through an extensive ritual of makeup and fashion choice. What is wrong with that? If I were the parent of one of her students, I would be grateful for someone who was more concerned with educating my child than whether or not she was accessorized properly.
Many years ago when I was feeling the effects of lupus but had not yet been diagnosed, I was seeing an internist who walked in to the exam room wearing what we now call business casual. He asked me if I was uncomfortable with a doctor who did not wear a white coat. This particular doctor was much like Dr. House (another show I watch) in his unrelenting search for answers but he was much more personable. I told him that I was much less concerned with what he wore than with what he said and did. I also said that I was not fond of doctors who hide behind their white coats and stethoscopes. Anyone can play dress-up.
It looked to me like all the women who were back on What Not To Wear were playing dress-up. Many of them did not look comfortable at all with the persona they were trying to pull off. What is the point? Why can't we just be who we truly are?
I am a jeans, loose shirt and Birkenstock girl. That translates to an old hippie. The older I get, the less able (or willing) I am to try to pull off the mature adult look as far as fashion is concerned. In fact, last winter when we went back east for my mother's funeral, I had it in my head that I really should wear a dress; needless to say, I did not have an appropriate one. I took my fashion conscious daughter shopping with me. After trying on many dresses, all of which fit in terms of size, Erin finally said to me that I just did not look right in a dress. She was right. I ended up with a navy blue suit - pants and blazer. That was about as grown up as I could handle and it was perfectly fine for the funeral. I must say, however, that I have not worn it since.
I am lucky that I teach in a place where dress is not a big deal. This may be the benefit of teaching in the arts. It is perfectly acceptable to wear jeans and Birkenstocks in our department, at least it always has been. Hopefully that will not change. I think that the students recognize confidence and comfort in their instructors not by how they dress but by how they engage with their students. I don't need the tweed jacket to earn the respect of my students any more than that doctor twenty years ago needed a white coat to earn my respect. If I am worthy of their respect I will get it regardless of what I wear. And if I am not, I will not get it, regardless of how I dress. We are back to that don't judge a book by its cover thing.
So, as I get ready for the first day of school on Monday, I could wear my blue suit. Yeah right. I will make sure that my "good" jeans are clean and that my shirt is not too wrinkled. And, I have new Birkenstocks. I am ready. Hopefully the opinions of me that are formed by my students are based on what I show them of my inside, not the outside.
Having said that, over the summer I overheard one of my former students asking a current student if I still wore all the cool-colored hand knit socks. I can live with being the awesome theory teacher who wears the cool socks.
Tonight's show happened to be a reunion show; eight women, who had previously been on the show, were back to see if they have been able to maintain their new fashion identity. The program began with highlights from each of their previous appearances. The longer I watched, the more amazed I became at the idea that people had come into these women's worlds and completely changed their sense of themselves. I was most surprised at the woman who was told that she could no longer wear her hooded sweatshirt while she was out (in the cold) walking her dogs. Do the dogs really care what she is wearing? Oh wait, we are concerned about what other people have to say about what we wear. Are we really so shallow that if we see a woman out on a Saturday morning walking her dogs in a sweatshirt that we will think no class, uninteresting, unattractive? Or what about the young special education teacher who said that she would rather put her energy into enriching the lives of eight disabled children in her classroom than be exhausted by the time she got to school from going through an extensive ritual of makeup and fashion choice. What is wrong with that? If I were the parent of one of her students, I would be grateful for someone who was more concerned with educating my child than whether or not she was accessorized properly.
Many years ago when I was feeling the effects of lupus but had not yet been diagnosed, I was seeing an internist who walked in to the exam room wearing what we now call business casual. He asked me if I was uncomfortable with a doctor who did not wear a white coat. This particular doctor was much like Dr. House (another show I watch) in his unrelenting search for answers but he was much more personable. I told him that I was much less concerned with what he wore than with what he said and did. I also said that I was not fond of doctors who hide behind their white coats and stethoscopes. Anyone can play dress-up.
It looked to me like all the women who were back on What Not To Wear were playing dress-up. Many of them did not look comfortable at all with the persona they were trying to pull off. What is the point? Why can't we just be who we truly are?
I am a jeans, loose shirt and Birkenstock girl. That translates to an old hippie. The older I get, the less able (or willing) I am to try to pull off the mature adult look as far as fashion is concerned. In fact, last winter when we went back east for my mother's funeral, I had it in my head that I really should wear a dress; needless to say, I did not have an appropriate one. I took my fashion conscious daughter shopping with me. After trying on many dresses, all of which fit in terms of size, Erin finally said to me that I just did not look right in a dress. She was right. I ended up with a navy blue suit - pants and blazer. That was about as grown up as I could handle and it was perfectly fine for the funeral. I must say, however, that I have not worn it since.
I am lucky that I teach in a place where dress is not a big deal. This may be the benefit of teaching in the arts. It is perfectly acceptable to wear jeans and Birkenstocks in our department, at least it always has been. Hopefully that will not change. I think that the students recognize confidence and comfort in their instructors not by how they dress but by how they engage with their students. I don't need the tweed jacket to earn the respect of my students any more than that doctor twenty years ago needed a white coat to earn my respect. If I am worthy of their respect I will get it regardless of what I wear. And if I am not, I will not get it, regardless of how I dress. We are back to that don't judge a book by its cover thing.
So, as I get ready for the first day of school on Monday, I could wear my blue suit. Yeah right. I will make sure that my "good" jeans are clean and that my shirt is not too wrinkled. And, I have new Birkenstocks. I am ready. Hopefully the opinions of me that are formed by my students are based on what I show them of my inside, not the outside.
Having said that, over the summer I overheard one of my former students asking a current student if I still wore all the cool-colored hand knit socks. I can live with being the awesome theory teacher who wears the cool socks.
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Observations From The Pediatrician's Office
I took both my girls to the doctor, actually the pediatrician this morning for vaccines. Brooke needed the meningitis shot before leaving for college and both girls received the HPV vaccine. Yes, I am one of those liberal parents who, by vaccinating their children against a life threatening illness. is promoting promiscuity. Whatever . . .
The true reason for the visit was not nearly as interesting as some of the observations that the three of us made while in the doctor's office. I will admit up front that these are random findings so don't spend too much time looking for "the point".
1. When we first arrived in the waiting room this morning, there were two other patients waiting to be seen. Both were little boys and both were accompanied by their fathers. I really am not sexist, but it was unusual to see small children at the pediatricians office with their daddies. One of the men was engrossed in a magazine while his son played with the toys in the corner of the office. The other, who was wearing a blue T-shirt with what looked like the Superman logo on it that actually said "Superdad", was sound to sleep and snoring in the seat a few down from us. Another sexist remark - a mother who was asleep at the switch would not earn a "Supermom" T-shirt but rather a visit from CPS! When the nurse came to call this family back to the exam room, Dad snored on. The little boy, who was probably three, came over and grabbed his daddy's arm and said, "Wake up! They just called Christopher. That is me. Wake up! It took dad a minute or so to wake up and make his way to see the doctor. Perhaps they were there to see if narcolepsy is genetic.
2. The office policy seems to be "If you can't beat 'em, join em." So, they always have a Disney movie showing on the TV. As we were watching Tarzan, Erin commented on the fact that in many of Disney's movies, the father figure dies - Tarzan, Lion King, Cinderella. How depressing is that?, she asked. In the back of my head all I could think was that it was preparing the children of all those going to fight in Iraq for the real possibility that they may grow up without their fathers. I realize this is a bit cynical, but truer than we'd all like to admit.
3. As we were leaving, the movie had switched to Cars. Erin allowed as how this movie was gong to create an entire generation of poor drivers. And, "those talking cars are creepy anyway." I think I am raising the next generation of the TV watchdog group. I guess that is preferable to a bad driver.
4. We have been seeing the same pediatrician since Brooke was born 17 1/2 years ago. In all that time I have never been unhappy with any of the office personnel or the care and treatment either of the girls has received. Because we were only there for vaccines today, we saw only a nurse, one whom I have never seen before. Usually the nurses are upbeat and cheerful. Today's nurse, who I hope was on loan from a temp agency was less than cheerful and, well, not quite bright. I think having two children in the room at once was more then she could handle.
Once we established that Brooke needed the meningitis vaccine and the second dose of HPV and Erin needed the first HPV dose, I thought we were good to go. She came back and began with Brooke. "You are getting the first shot, right?, as she plunged the needle into her arm. "NO. The second!" "they are the same." Unphased, she then gave Brooke her other vaccine and Erin hers.
When we were in the office two months ago, I had given the doctor's office Brooke's immunization record that needed to be filled out by them and mailed to U of C. At that time the office was out of meningitis vaccines so they placed the form in her file to be completed and mailed once the vaccines were in. That was today. When I asked the nurse about the form, she looked at me like I had asked her if I could borrow a hundred dollars. She then replied, "What part of this are we supposed to fill out?" By this point, I had lost my patience. I snatched the form from her and pointed to the big orange letters that said, TO BE FILLED OUT BY YOUR HEALTH CARE PROFESSIONAL" She then said to me, "We can't complete this form because she did not have a physical." Again I snatched the form and pointed to the big black letters at the top that read, IMMUNIZATION RECORD. Without a word she took the from back and left the room. As it turns out, she had the doctor sign the blank form (except for the personal stuff that Brooke had filled out) and gave me a copy of the immunization page from her file so that I could transfer the information to the U of C form. It is a good thing that no one took my blood pressure as I was leaving the office.
When we got outside, Erin accused me of being harsh with the nurse. "That is how mistakes are made and people die in hospitals!" I could have overlooked any one of these things but the combination pushed all my buttons. Should we ever encounter this nurse again, the harshness will be increased logarithmically! Fortunately for Brooke, this was her last visit to the pediatrician. She's a big girl now.
So, Erin, I will try not to embarrass you next time, but you know how I feel about idiots, especially when it is your well-being at stake. Sorry! No, I'm not.
The true reason for the visit was not nearly as interesting as some of the observations that the three of us made while in the doctor's office. I will admit up front that these are random findings so don't spend too much time looking for "the point".
1. When we first arrived in the waiting room this morning, there were two other patients waiting to be seen. Both were little boys and both were accompanied by their fathers. I really am not sexist, but it was unusual to see small children at the pediatricians office with their daddies. One of the men was engrossed in a magazine while his son played with the toys in the corner of the office. The other, who was wearing a blue T-shirt with what looked like the Superman logo on it that actually said "Superdad", was sound to sleep and snoring in the seat a few down from us. Another sexist remark - a mother who was asleep at the switch would not earn a "Supermom" T-shirt but rather a visit from CPS! When the nurse came to call this family back to the exam room, Dad snored on. The little boy, who was probably three, came over and grabbed his daddy's arm and said, "Wake up! They just called Christopher. That is me. Wake up! It took dad a minute or so to wake up and make his way to see the doctor. Perhaps they were there to see if narcolepsy is genetic.
2. The office policy seems to be "If you can't beat 'em, join em." So, they always have a Disney movie showing on the TV. As we were watching Tarzan, Erin commented on the fact that in many of Disney's movies, the father figure dies - Tarzan, Lion King, Cinderella. How depressing is that?, she asked. In the back of my head all I could think was that it was preparing the children of all those going to fight in Iraq for the real possibility that they may grow up without their fathers. I realize this is a bit cynical, but truer than we'd all like to admit.
3. As we were leaving, the movie had switched to Cars. Erin allowed as how this movie was gong to create an entire generation of poor drivers. And, "those talking cars are creepy anyway." I think I am raising the next generation of the TV watchdog group. I guess that is preferable to a bad driver.
4. We have been seeing the same pediatrician since Brooke was born 17 1/2 years ago. In all that time I have never been unhappy with any of the office personnel or the care and treatment either of the girls has received. Because we were only there for vaccines today, we saw only a nurse, one whom I have never seen before. Usually the nurses are upbeat and cheerful. Today's nurse, who I hope was on loan from a temp agency was less than cheerful and, well, not quite bright. I think having two children in the room at once was more then she could handle.
Once we established that Brooke needed the meningitis vaccine and the second dose of HPV and Erin needed the first HPV dose, I thought we were good to go. She came back and began with Brooke. "You are getting the first shot, right?, as she plunged the needle into her arm. "NO. The second!" "they are the same." Unphased, she then gave Brooke her other vaccine and Erin hers.
When we were in the office two months ago, I had given the doctor's office Brooke's immunization record that needed to be filled out by them and mailed to U of C. At that time the office was out of meningitis vaccines so they placed the form in her file to be completed and mailed once the vaccines were in. That was today. When I asked the nurse about the form, she looked at me like I had asked her if I could borrow a hundred dollars. She then replied, "What part of this are we supposed to fill out?" By this point, I had lost my patience. I snatched the form from her and pointed to the big orange letters that said, TO BE FILLED OUT BY YOUR HEALTH CARE PROFESSIONAL" She then said to me, "We can't complete this form because she did not have a physical." Again I snatched the form and pointed to the big black letters at the top that read, IMMUNIZATION RECORD. Without a word she took the from back and left the room. As it turns out, she had the doctor sign the blank form (except for the personal stuff that Brooke had filled out) and gave me a copy of the immunization page from her file so that I could transfer the information to the U of C form. It is a good thing that no one took my blood pressure as I was leaving the office.
When we got outside, Erin accused me of being harsh with the nurse. "That is how mistakes are made and people die in hospitals!" I could have overlooked any one of these things but the combination pushed all my buttons. Should we ever encounter this nurse again, the harshness will be increased logarithmically! Fortunately for Brooke, this was her last visit to the pediatrician. She's a big girl now.
So, Erin, I will try not to embarrass you next time, but you know how I feel about idiots, especially when it is your well-being at stake. Sorry! No, I'm not.
Monday, August 20, 2007
Consonance, Dissonance, Division, And Union
Yesterday's sermon at church was preached by our new youth minister. He has been on the staff less than a month and this was his first time to preach to our congregation. Like most who are making a first impression, he "put on his best hat" (or in his case, alb) and gave it his all.
He is a charismatic speaker, so he grabbed my attention immediately. He also used a music metaphor, which kept my attention, maybe too much so. Below is the Gospel reading that he spoke about.
Luke 12: 49 - 56 (NRSV)
12:49 "I came to bring fire to the earth, and how I wish it were already kindled! 50 I have a baptism with which to be baptized, and what stress I am under until it is completed! 51 Do you think that I have come to bring peace to the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division! 52 From now on five in one household will be divided, three against two and two against three; 53 they will be divided:
father against son
and son against father,
mother against daughter
and daughter against mother,
mother-in-law against her daughter-in-law
and daughter-in-law against mother-in-law."
54 He also said to the crowds, "When you see a cloud rising in the west, you immediately say, "It is going to rain'; and so it happens. 55 And when you see the south wind blowing, you say, "There will be scorching heat'; and it happens. 56 You hypocrites! You know how to interpret the appearance of earth and sky, but why do you not know how to interpret the present time?
In his metaphor, the preacher considered division, as it is used in the above passage, and dissonance as synonyms. The more I think about this notion, the more I believe his premise to be faulty, especially since he chose to use dissonance as it relates to music.
The way I see it, division is the opposite of union - either things are divided into parts or they are one. They are two unique things. Consonance and dissonance are not opposites - they are the extremes of a single thing, that being harmony. Harmony contains both consonance and dissonance and both are equally important to the overall effect of the musical composition. Are both union and division equally important to the significance of a single thing?
In the above passage from Luke, Jesus says that "I come to bring fire to the earth and how I wish it were already kindled. I have a baptism with which to be baptized, and what stress I am under until it is completed." Jesus has brought the power of the Holy Spirit and until all people on earth are filled with it, He will feel the stress of the division which exists between those who have been touched by the power of God, and those who have not. I don't think that it is dissonance that is sounded between these two groups; it is division. Until this division becomes union, there will not be peace on earth. Consonance and dissonance, however, will still be present even when division ceases. Each one of us has a unique relationship with God;therefore, how we each are called to serve God is also different. God may come to you in the perfection of a major triad and God may come to me in the beautiful dissonance of an augmented sixth chord. The point is not when or where God comes to each of us, but that the Creator comes.
In the last few verses of this passage, Jesus gives examples of the unfailing human ability to predict the negative outcome of particular weather conditions. He asks why then can we not accurately interpret the present time? Is He asking us why we can't see that division is like the rain cloud - a storm is inevitable. If we could rid our world of the clouds of division, the "weather" would be much more tolerable. Though there may no longer be devastating storms, dissonance will be found in the extreme temperatures of summer and winter while consonance resides in the mildness of spring and fall.
Perhaps I am over thinking this whole issue, but isn't that what a good sermon is supposed to do - make me think. Even if I don't agree with what was said, if I am forced to look closely at the words of Scripture and what was preached, the sermon was successful. My disagreement with our youth minister's premise does not create division, it creates dissonance. Musically, and perhaps theologically too, dissonance always yearns for and finds its own meaning in resolution whereas division remains true only to itself.
May the ebb and flow of consonance and dissonance fill your world with beautiful music.
He is a charismatic speaker, so he grabbed my attention immediately. He also used a music metaphor, which kept my attention, maybe too much so. Below is the Gospel reading that he spoke about.
Luke 12: 49 - 56 (NRSV)
12:49 "I came to bring fire to the earth, and how I wish it were already kindled! 50 I have a baptism with which to be baptized, and what stress I am under until it is completed! 51 Do you think that I have come to bring peace to the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division! 52 From now on five in one household will be divided, three against two and two against three; 53 they will be divided:
father against son
and son against father,
mother against daughter
and daughter against mother,
mother-in-law against her daughter-in-law
and daughter-in-law against mother-in-law."
54 He also said to the crowds, "When you see a cloud rising in the west, you immediately say, "It is going to rain'; and so it happens. 55 And when you see the south wind blowing, you say, "There will be scorching heat'; and it happens. 56 You hypocrites! You know how to interpret the appearance of earth and sky, but why do you not know how to interpret the present time?
In his metaphor, the preacher considered division, as it is used in the above passage, and dissonance as synonyms. The more I think about this notion, the more I believe his premise to be faulty, especially since he chose to use dissonance as it relates to music.
The way I see it, division is the opposite of union - either things are divided into parts or they are one. They are two unique things. Consonance and dissonance are not opposites - they are the extremes of a single thing, that being harmony. Harmony contains both consonance and dissonance and both are equally important to the overall effect of the musical composition. Are both union and division equally important to the significance of a single thing?
In the above passage from Luke, Jesus says that "I come to bring fire to the earth and how I wish it were already kindled. I have a baptism with which to be baptized, and what stress I am under until it is completed." Jesus has brought the power of the Holy Spirit and until all people on earth are filled with it, He will feel the stress of the division which exists between those who have been touched by the power of God, and those who have not. I don't think that it is dissonance that is sounded between these two groups; it is division. Until this division becomes union, there will not be peace on earth. Consonance and dissonance, however, will still be present even when division ceases. Each one of us has a unique relationship with God;therefore, how we each are called to serve God is also different. God may come to you in the perfection of a major triad and God may come to me in the beautiful dissonance of an augmented sixth chord. The point is not when or where God comes to each of us, but that the Creator comes.
In the last few verses of this passage, Jesus gives examples of the unfailing human ability to predict the negative outcome of particular weather conditions. He asks why then can we not accurately interpret the present time? Is He asking us why we can't see that division is like the rain cloud - a storm is inevitable. If we could rid our world of the clouds of division, the "weather" would be much more tolerable. Though there may no longer be devastating storms, dissonance will be found in the extreme temperatures of summer and winter while consonance resides in the mildness of spring and fall.
Perhaps I am over thinking this whole issue, but isn't that what a good sermon is supposed to do - make me think. Even if I don't agree with what was said, if I am forced to look closely at the words of Scripture and what was preached, the sermon was successful. My disagreement with our youth minister's premise does not create division, it creates dissonance. Musically, and perhaps theologically too, dissonance always yearns for and finds its own meaning in resolution whereas division remains true only to itself.
May the ebb and flow of consonance and dissonance fill your world with beautiful music.
Friday, August 17, 2007
Spa Day
Before all you girls, and maybe you guys too, get jealous, it was not me who had a day at the spa, but Serena, our llama. Because of all the rain we had in the spring and travel schedules this summer, we are just now getting to shearing time. It is a bit late, but fortunately we have not had triple digit temperatures until this week.
For most, a day at the spa sounds like a luxury, but Serena is not convinced of that. The shearer came at 9 this morning. Last night, we moved Serena from the big pasture to the small holding pen. That was her first inkling that something not so good might be looming on her horizon. Llamas are very particular about the spot where they leave their "llama beans". None of her spots are in the small pen - another point of unhappiness. We did, however, go for a walk around the yard and she got to nibble a light breakfast of pasture grass and leaves before the fun began.
For most, a day at the spa sounds like a luxury, but Serena is not convinced of that. The shearer came at 9 this morning. Last night, we moved Serena from the big pasture to the small holding pen. That was her first inkling that something not so good might be looming on her horizon. Llamas are very particular about the spot where they leave their "llama beans". None of her spots are in the small pen - another point of unhappiness. We did, however, go for a walk around the yard and she got to nibble a light breakfast of pasture grass and leaves before the fun began.
"What's the problem with a little dust in the coat? It is cheaper than air conditioning. The burs, well, you can brush them out, right? Okay, if you think I need a haircut, then let's do it."
"This better be worth it! I could be out talking to my friends, having a little grass (You know what I mean.), and rolling in a little more dust."
The first cut. Because we are so late with this shearing, Serena's fleece is quite long. It would be very difficult to get it off in one piece for spinning; so this year, we will leave a little on the ground for the birds to gather for nesting material and the rest will be discarded.
"Maybe I will try a new style this year. What do ya'll think of the french poodle look? Okay, okay, they can give me the boring llama cut."
"All done. I am not fond of the hooficure part at all, but the rest was OK. Now that I am all beautiful, do you wanna kiss?"
"You bet, Serena!"
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