I don't know why I am tending more and more to not recognize, or absolutely ignore, opportunities to assist others when I can.
I'd like to say I'm becoming older are more tired and oblivious, but I am really just becoming more selfish.
A good turn is needed.
-----
May 31 -
And as it usually and serendipitously goes, the very next day we faculty are asked to read "UnSelfie" over the summer:
https://books.google.com/books/about/UnSelfie.html?id=dD-1DAEACAAJ&hl=en
Monday, May 29, 2017
Monday, March 20, 2017
Many things happen...
...and I am too lazy to write about them.
I put some of them on Facebook, like my Dad's passing, but I don't know that it matters either way.
Life goes on, whether or not I attempt to preserve it here.
And that's what matters.
I put some of them on Facebook, like my Dad's passing, but I don't know that it matters either way.
Life goes on, whether or not I attempt to preserve it here.
And that's what matters.
Tuesday, January 27, 2015
Dress Coded
Patrick Bassett, President of the National Association of Independent Schools, began an article back in 2009 with the following:
“At the NAIS Institute for New Heads each year, I give school leaders a wry piece of advice: “If something goes terribly askew at school, and you need to buy time to rectify it before your parent body finds out, suggest a change to the dress code. This tactic will keep parents distracted for at least 18 months in dress-code debates, giving you plenty of time to quietly fix the problem.”
-----------------------------
This morning I heard someone say “Not all of you are turning kids in (for dress code violations)...”
I guess I am not doing my job. I have not “turned anyone in” for dress code violations in quite a while. Not ever, really, that I can recall.
I have asked students to tuck in shirts and button buttons from time to time, but I hate to think I am shirking my responsibilities as a teacher for not imposing a penalty that may accumulate in a demerit for wayward dress violations. In all honesty, I usually just don’t see them.
Now, I have to tell you, I like human bodies. I like looking at them. They are the coolest thing to draw and paint, and I appreciate the bulbous and the billowy as much as the slender and the graceful. I usually just don’t pay that much attention to how they are covered, or not (Victoria’s Secret and Men’s Fitness notwithstanding).
I honestly do not understand all the fuss about dress code, unless it is indeed meant as a distraction, a diversion to prevent us from noticing something more substantive that should be addressed.
But if we are going to require a dress code, and especially uniforms, then we should, indeed be uniform. Let’s all wear robes, similar to Monks.
Thick black robes in winter, and thin white robes in summer.
We can even be naked underneath...who will know the difference? I’m naked under the clothes I wear everyday anyway.
But if we do so, let us hope the winds never blow in a wayward direction. Gods forbid the visible body.
Then Bassett went on to say:
“Next July, for the new group of school heads, I’m going to add a similar strategy for keeping the faculty preoccupied: “If you need to implement a change that would normally cause gnashing of teeth and drawing of battle lines among your teachers, do it after you form a task force to study changing the compensation system to a merit-pay model. The faculty will be so annoyed and preoccupied by the merit-pay proposal that the other change will seem minor by comparison.”
Funny. That seems vaguely relatable as well...
Dress code is no. 88
http://www.marshallschool.org/uploaded/Shared_Portal_Documents/14-15_School_Year/Dress_Code_2014.pdf
Saturday, August 9, 2014
Teach like a Monkey!
Or, you can teach like:
a Champion.
a Rockstar.
a Pirate.
a Techie.
it's Summer
or
or even (gods forbid) YOU!!
This post is in response to a requirement that I implement 3-5 of Doug Lemov's "Teach Like a Champion" techniques in my classroom. In truth, I already implement many of them, but do not do so consciously or consistently.
Although I am not opposed to exposure to and consideration of the effective teaching methods of others, I am vehemently opposed to being told exactly how I must teach, even when the tactics are administratively implemented in minuscule increments.
Sure, the effort here is to make me a better teacher, and I'm all for becoming better, but I will not be treated like a trained monkey, and I refuse to treat my students as such.
This could go on and on, and so it goes.
Thursday, July 24, 2014
It’s only a dream. (Reykjavic, 7 July 2014)
I was standing less than twenty feet from Neil Young and
Crazy Horse (Rick Rosas stood in for the healing Billy Talbot ) with my wife
and new friends. Here we were, in Iceland, at a small venue, right in front of
the stage, right in front of Poncho, with Neil cranking away a few feet to our
right. This was only my sixth time to see Neil, and the first to be on the
rail.
The dream was passing before my eyes and through my
ears, I was soaking it in, but earlier I was distracted but my desire to
contribute to a greater community; to somehow pay a self imposed debt to those
dedicated souls who have devoted themselves to the love of all things Neil, sharing
so much over the years.
How could I provide anything of importance to folks who have
Neil data spilling out of their pores? I can’t even remember the names of
songs, much less what was played when or with whom or what instrument was used
and whatnot. All I wanted to do was let the music and the moment flow
through me, but I also wanted to gift the experience to those who could not be
here. I had two things in mind, to
present a Memorial and to memorialize the moments.
The Memorial was simple; a shirt, a logo of the Human
Highway. I pretended that it represented the Man who seemed to me to be totally
devoted to sharing the life and principles of Neil Young with the world. He ran a server out of Germany that he called
Cortez. It hosted websites mostly dedicated to Neil Young and his antics. I never met the Host in person, but he
impressed me with his ability to act as a gentle ganglion in a global network, with
the clever and compassionate skills that synthesized and disseminated
information and opinions in a manner that humans of extreme diversity would
allow to flow into and out of each other.
He had passed away earlier in the year.
I had a t-shirt that bore the design that He seemed to cherish;
a design He used when He worked with others to unite virtual veterans of the
Human Highway at a real place in real time, last summer in Minnesota. He flew across the ocean to meet and be with
his friends.
I wanted to be close enough that Neil and the other band
members could see the image well enough to read “Human Highway”. I had no idea if they were even aware that
the dedicated group existed, but I knew the band would at least know the song, and
since it’s all the same... I pretended the Image would be looking back at them
and appreciating the opportunity to be there.
I heard about online listserves from someone I was standing
next to during the Crazy Horse appearance at Bonnaroo 2003. She kept
yelling, "Billy! Billy!" and I was impressed that she knew the names
of band members other than Neil. I had always just listened to Neil’s
music, my main source since high school, but I had never paid much attention to
everyone else involved. I wasn’t, and still
am not, a Rustie. She told me about the Human Highway.
So I joined the Human Highway backed then, and just lurked.
Folks talked about Neil stuff and other stuff as well. I eventually
fizzled away, but rejoined in 2013 and paid more attention. I joined a
couple of other lists and such but never really dove in with anything of
substance. Human Highway seemed more human oriented and meandering, whereas
other sites appeared to be more objective and strictly Neil based. I was
most impressed with the sense of community and belonging that seemed to drive
participation, in addition to all things Neil and offshoot topics.
The Human Highway took a hiatus when its gracious Host
passed away.
I stayed up until 4 am the previous February to purchase
tickets when they went on sale. I was
right on it when they opened it up, but tickets were still on sale the day
before the concert.
Even so, we only arrived 45 minutes early and were still about
twelfth in line outside the venue. We met folks from Norway who were following
the tour for several more shows, and we became friends. When the doors opened, the
Security guard was hesitant to take our printed paper tickets, and I anxiously
waited on his decision while others filed past.
He eventually let us in and we made our way to the floor. By then the center was taken but there were
good spots on either side. I was amazed
to be on the front row.
Presenting the Memorial was easy enough; I just had to stand
with my over-shirt open so the design on my chest was in full view. Collecting
the visual memory was to be more complicated.
I knew Neil did not like the distraction of constant fidgeting
with cameras and phones, and who wants to watch a concert from behind someone
else’s screen? So I figured I could just use a head mounted Gopro, backed up
with a Bloggie in my shirt pocket. The
Gopro looks ridiculous, but these gadgets would not block anyone else’s view.
I used it at Lockn’ and Rick nodded at it with a smile while Pegi sang. No one seemed to mind it. I could
hopefully record a presentable version of the show to share with those who were
there in heart but could not make the trip. I knew others would be in the
audience to take care of this as well, but I had a front row access!
But my plan to gather and share this show was quickly shattered
by tight security. Our experience of Iceland up until the concert
indicated a loose and organic social flow with very few worries about rules.
Folks seemed to just get along. I knew some venues allowed recording,
especially large festivals, but this was a small indoor venue. I had asked
someone in line if cameras were allowed, and he answered, “As long as it’s not
a good one…”
Anyway, I did not try to hide the cameras and security lost
no time in telling me no video was allowed, not even photos. So I put the Gopro
away. Gopros are obnoxious for sure, but I was sorry to lose the
potential. The Bloggie took HD video and fit in my shirt pocket so I
figured I would still try to use it. The only problem was that I couldn’t
check the view on the screen without causing suspicion by security. Theguards
were immediately on top of anyone with a camera in the first two rows. I was
never sure if I had properly turned it on to record, much less if the field of
view was capturing the band.
All of this was of no matter as the Neil and the band
entered the stage.
Poncho was right in front of us, all smiles and love.
Rick stood toward the back, but ventured up now and again.
Ralph and the singers were almost hidden.
Neil thrashed enough to wander in front of us a bit as he
played.
I just let it wash over me, but tried to remember to hold my
shirt open.
I could have buttoned it to stabilize the camera, but the Memorial
was more important than the memorializing.
Such a strange and superstitious thing, now that I think of
it, but somehow I hope that the Host was with us.
It was over all too soon, and Neil and the band were on their
way to Ireland, England, Turkey...
When I got home and checked the video it was all askew.
When the Horse got to Germany, they played Cortez.
-------------
Shakey vids -
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_GNxIwPS-Pw - Love and Only Love
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k4PYG_d0TSQ - Goin' Home
(Days That Used to Be) - didn't get it.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BIym8VprYz0 - Don't Cry No Tears
(Love to Burn) - didn't get it.
(Separate Ways) - didn't get it.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5CJ5D79mzoQ - Only Love Can Break Your Heart
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fdiQoSaCuW0 - Blowin' in the Wind
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o_RRuswEcqk - Heart of Gold
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ou1h7_m8N1I - Barstool Blues
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yo4tzwR3BjI - Psychedelic Pill
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PO7l1JXadFA - Whose Gonna Stand Up and Save the Earth?
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mzGabKreA80 - Rockin' in the Free World
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n6EJtSGPZvg - Hurricane
-----------
Other places:
Tuesday, January 14, 2014
An Indian Haze
(below is a very rough jot of feeble memory of a journey to a place that I hope to make again in more deliberate time...)
Sunday, December
15, 2013
Whew! Got in this morning.
Friends met me at the airport at 2:30am.
All is well but internet is sketchy
I'm a bit jet lagged but all is good.
We are about to meet our driver and take a road trip around
Delhi and then to a craft fair and then dinner of southern Indian food.
Tomorrow is a tomb and a reception, which it turns out is
more official than I first thought but in a good way.
Monday, December
16, 2013
It is Monday morning here.
Last night I was awakened at midnight by a marching band
going down the road. Really.
Yesterday the driver didn't show up so we took an auto
rickshaw to the embassy to get a cab ride from familiar drivers.
The daughter has also started painting on clothing as well
as making scrolls, and she gave my friends a shirt - green with drum, lota pot,
or eyeball looking designs on it, and they gave it to me to wear to the
reception. I feel like I will be wearing my car.
We also met Rahindra Behera, who does very detailed paintings
and palm leaf etchings.
I also met a friend whose job is to collect stuff for the
library of congress and various universities and ship it to them. What
fun!
We went to Safdarjang’s tomb. It
looked like a tiny Taj Mahal in form, but was eroded a bit and had graffiti
here and there. I cannot do justice to describing the art and
architecture. Look up photos on the
web. There were wild parrots and myna
birds, and I saw my first monkeys.
We ate lunch at an outdoor restaurant at the art fair and dinner
at a hotel restaurant last night. I can't remember many names of the food
but it is primarily bread with all kinds of ground up lentils
and beans and veggies and spices in these different pastes that you spread
and eat with the bread and it is good.
I know this is just random jabbering but I am using it as
kind of a journal to remember stuff. I don't expect you to read all this.
India reminds me of Bali's big clunky sloppy brother,
but I really can't adequately describe it.
I am feeling well though, and just soaking it in.
Hoping all is well
stateside.
Tuesday - Dec 17, 2013,
Well it's Tuesday morning here. Foggy foggy foggy!
The reception last night was really nice, but the ambassador was
unimpressed by my presence...imagine that! It was cool though, and my friends
ran into a couple of old friends and it was nice to visit with them.
Yesterday morning we went to the Secretariat and
government area and then spent a lot of time in halted traffic as a sinkhole
developed in one of the major roads or something.
We eventually made it to the National Crafts
museum, which was closed on Mondays! But there were a lot of school kids
there on a field trip and we were swamped with little handshakes and smiles and
hellos!
The same thing happened when we went to Humayan's tomb. It is like a
small version of the Taj Mahal. Kids were all over there too!
There is more but I gotta go!
Tuesday, December
17, 2013 - Continued
Ok I'm sleepy and have to get up at 4 in the morning to
catch the train to Agra and the
Taj Mahal so this is short.
It is about ten thirty and we had a full day. We went to a friend's to meet an artist
and see his work for potential showing at museums and galleries. He
brought almost everything he had and it took a while to see it all, but it
seemed to be worth everyone's while.
Afterword I was dropped off at the craft museum again as it
was open today, and I looked at the cool stuff while my friends followed up on
my travel plan for Agra for the Taj Mahal. I am getting plenty of guidance from
my friends on this venture, with an escort from here with their friend who they
have sent visitors with for years, and a guide and driver on our arrival.
This evening we visited with an eighty year old jeweler/curator/art collector friend
of theirs who had us over to his son’s very fine home for dinner.
I would give details on how good the food was and how
beautiful the home was and how enjoyable the man and his family was, but it is
time for sleep!
Thursday,
December 19, 2013 –
It's Wednesday night or Thursday morNing about 2am just
getting in from seeing thE taj in Agra it has been a hck of a 26 hour day
details after nappy poo…
Friday, December
20, 2013-
All is well and I understand if you don't read all this
stuff. I am using it for my journal.
I just looked at my e-mail from day 4 and noticed that I
signed my name "Mel". So if anything else doesn't seem to make sense
blame it on autocorrect or jet lag. Also I am just going to crank through
writing this so forgive grammar and punctuation errors. I also would not be
surprised if my emails are being screened by the kind folks at the NSA and the
like. I blame them for inserting phrases that make me sound
ignorant.
We are in Udaipur but I am going to drop back two days to
write about the trip to Agra.
My jet lag has been waking me up about 12 midnight but I
have been going back to sleep about 1. But I woke up at midnight Wednesday
morning and did not go back to sleep for the four hours until I had to get up
to meet my cab to take me to the train station.
On the way we picked up a friend who my friend’s wanted to
travel with me to make sure I would not get into trouble. She was their
housekeeper when they were in India and they have been looking out for her and
her family ever since.
When we got to the train station people were sprawled out
all over the place. We found our train without a problem. It was the
first class train with seats similar to old airplane seats, metal meal trays
and footrests. It was foggy. Really foggy.
It was so foggy you couldn't see the grounds outside the
train window. The train was slowed, so we were 3.5 hours late. A two hour ride
was 5.5 hrs.
The fog eventually broke but since we were late we had to
defer to the trains that were on time. On the way we had to slow and pull over
to allow other trains to pass several times. When we did I noticed it looked
like folks were shitting all over the train tracks for some reason. I
thought it might be the place the local folks would go, but I had been seeing
them squat wherever they felt like along the way.
When I had to pee I noticed a signed that asked you to
refrain from using the toilet when at the train station. Then I see that
the toilet is just a tube that opens into the tracks below. So now
al the shit is logically accounted for.
When we got to Agra our driver was there waiting on us. You
really have to look at the photos to see how we drive through crazy crowded
narrow streets through cows donkeys dogs people ....
We pick up our guide and head to the Taj Mahal . He is
just a tiny bit sleazy but nice enough. He didn't tell us anything I
hadn't already read in Wikipedia .
The taj was incredible of course. The locals dressed
in beautiful saris and the weather was sunny and clear. I sent the guide
away because he kept wanting to leave to take me to the crafts men's shop who
makes inlays just like the taj.
We walked around the taj and grounds for a couple of hours
and then drove for an hour though crazy villages...yes video and photos are
required here to get an inkling of an idea....to get to a palace/mosque that I
am too lazy to properly write because I am writing this offline and can't google
it, but it is named Fatehpur Sikri.
It sat In the middle of the countryside on a hill and
again, photos are in order. It was beautiful and created by a fellow
named Akbar or something like
that who wanted to combine all religions and did so thought the architecture.
Of course he wanted to be the god of all these religions. Hell, who
doesn't?
We left there at sunset to drive back though the crazy
villages with dogs and cows and donkeys and goats and people and wagons and
bicycles and scooters and trucks and trucks and trucks swirling in and out of
lanes and passing all the way, only this time in the dusky dusty darkness of
night and oncoming headlights whenever the oncoming vehicle was lucky enough to
have headlights.
The guide dropped us off at a "hygienic"
restaurant and bade his farewell. We had some spicy mutton soup paste
stuff and bread and it was the first meal to give me diarrhea since coming here.
I have now had diarrhea for two days but I can control the timeliness and
place of release so far. I know you wanted to know that.
When we got to the train station we found that our train was
running three hours late, so instead of getting back at 10:30 we would get back
at 1:30am at best. But there was no guarantee the train would be only three hours
late, and based on the morning's experience of multiple pull
overs, it could be an all nighter.
So I opted instead to pay another $100 to take a cab back to
Dehli. The guy getting us the cab must have made his younger brother drive us
because he did not seem happy about it. The cab owner told me it would take
about two hours because of the expressway.
On the way through the roads of aforementioned villages
the driver stopped at a vendor stall to get what looked like energy powder
packets and water. Oh shit.
The "expressway" was akin to driving down old
hwy 41 with potholes along the whole way. We were in a car similar to a
Suzuki alto by the way...yep..bumpy back seat of the alto the whole
damn way.
On the way the driver opened the door to vomit at least
twice while we were going down the road. He didn't stop, he just opened
the door at 80km per hour and puked. I was gals that he was an efficient and
speedy puker.
After that I noticed he would nod off whenever there was not
any oncoming traffic or anything to pass in his way, so I kept asking my friend
to ask him to pull over and take a break, but he always said he was fine...even
the times his eyes closed and we started to slow down and veer off the road.
At least his foot rested when he fell asleep.
When we got to Delhi we saw a horrible accident where a
cargo truck had run over a passenger vehicle. A crowd was scurrying to try to
release the passengers while the ambulance and police were arriving. I
thought about how lucky we were to have made it this far.
We made it though. He took us to the US embassy cab
station where we could be taken to our respective abodes. We got there
about 1:30am and all the drivers were asleep, so we woke up a turbaned
Sikh driver who was willing to take us.
I forgot to mention that the whole four and a half hour
ride I had to pee, badly, but I was afraid the driver might drive off
without me or something, so I sat with boiling belly and bloated bladder
misery during that time. When I got to the embassy cabs my body expected
some relief, so I had to ask him to pull over so I could at least pee.
He did not understand English so I had to pantomime drinking water and
holding my pecker.
He pulled over and I pissed on some country's embassy
grounds, but I don't know which one. Sorry about that.
So I got in at 2 am. 26 hours awake.
Wasted.
Diarrheic.
But it was an incredible day.
Saturday, December 21,
2013
Thursday morning we packed up for the airport. I was in a
fog from the lack of sleep and diarrhea but making a go of it.
We went to the National
Gallery of Modern Art. It was a really fine museum and had a comprehensive current exhibit and collections that gave me a good
background on Indian Art.
(I am sorry not to include more academic info, but I'm just not that adept. I was soaking in the ether, and important details and historical structure seemed too hard to hold in my listless lazy mind...or notebook)
(I am sorry not to include more academic info, but I'm just not that adept. I was soaking in the ether, and important details and historical structure seemed too hard to hold in my listless lazy mind...or notebook)
The Dehli airport is really very large and nice...really
nice. I couldn't tell it on the arrival but it is very modern and huge.
We had a pleasant flight to Udaipur and the hotel had
arranged for a taxi to meet us. The town roads were narrow.
We stayed the first night at the Anjani Hotel. It is an old timely place in the middle of the tourist scene. It had a roof top restaurant with great views of Udaipur.
We stayed the first night at the Anjani Hotel. It is an old timely place in the middle of the tourist scene. It had a roof top restaurant with great views of Udaipur.
Oh yeah, they filmed "Octopussy" here and parts of
"The Most Exotic Marigold Hotel".
We went for a walk and looked at the typical (for here)
shops and such. We stopped at an art/antique place that was right across the
street from the hotel. Hamaan was the owner, and he pulled out paintings (miniatures) from
all over the place to show my friends.
We ate a late dinner on the roof. My room was cool.
And there were monkies!
Friday we changed hotels because we found out there were
available rooms at the place they usually stay. The Anjani folks weren't
happy but we paid up and checked out. Well, we had to return to pay the taxi from the airport, but...
The new place could pass for a working version of the hotel
in the aforementioned movie. We were now at the Rangniwas Palace Hotel.
My friends took the simple room and I opted for the $45
fancy suite, the only original room in the hotel. It has been renovated a
bit to split rooms, combine rooms, fancy it up and such. My room has marble
inlaid everything, 3 rooms, old timey furniture, and a bathroom with a western
toilet, a squat toilet, a bathtub, a bidet, and a shower. And it has a large
balcony that opens onto the courtyard with a swing and lounge chairs and table
and such. It is more cool than my first room.
So Friday we went to the Mewar
Palace. The hotel we are staying in was built for guests of the Raja
I think, and it is just down the road from the palace.
I am running out of steam on descriptions and will wait for
pics, but it was impressive for sure. That afternoon my friends went to
meet with an art dealer and I took a walk around the town. I haven't been
buying much stuff.
Saturday
My friend and I took a car to Ranakpur Temple. It is a
Jain Temple of carved marble and is really cooler than the Taj Mahal for me
because of its sculptural and spiritual nature. The drive was two hours
each way, and Chotu, our driver was great.
The day was beautiful and clear and sunny and the temple was
stunning.
On the way back we stopped at a "resort" so the
driver could eat his lunch. I went to the stream and a boy about 9 or 10
joined me in turning over rocks looking for critters. I was hoping for a
crawfish but we found freshwater crabs!
We continued home on winding roads and then hit the
"expressway". This one was more like a four lane highway than
the one from Agra though.
As we went down the road cars passed here and there, and we
passed all kinds of vehicles. A white car passed us weaving in and out of
traffic going fast.
We drove past many cows in the road, women with sticks and
bundles on their heads, carts, goats and people offloading from busses.
I looked down the road and saw skid marks ending at a
gathering crowd of villagers but no vehicle was in sight. A man was
frantically motioning for us to continue past the scene.
As we slowly drove past we saw the child lying in the
curb. His body was in an impossible position in a pool of blood.
He was gone.
He looked to be about 9 or 10.
Sorry to relay this sad event,
but so is India.
Now it is Saturday evening and we are about to have a simple
meal and see what the night brings, probably a stroll around town.
After the beautiful and tragic
trip to Ranakpur temple (by the way, Jains are the purest living people on
earth if they are sticking to the plan, not even killing gnats or eating
vegetables that kill the plant in harvest...) we had a relaxing
"snack" of tomato and cheese sandwiches and French fries on
my glorious balcony washed down with banana smoothies.
My friends went to their room and
I took an evening walk around the walled garden across the street. Along
the way I came across a wedding
procession.
About a hundred folks were
collected within a border of extension cords running from a generator clunking away in a van
at the rear of the procession. The generator gave power to the hand held
light trees/candelabras that lined the procession on either side. In the lead
was a wagon with large silver trumpet horns blasting out amplified sounds from
the drums and brass band that followed. This was the kind of procession I heard at midnight during my first night in India.
Behind the band was the groom
decked out in nice raiment riding a white horse with a couple of kids along for the ride. The women followed behind and giggled as they saw
my camera. It was cool to happen upon.
I strolled on home without event
and fell asleep after a few moments of some very funky Indian television.
I had strange dreams.
Sunday
I woke up to traffic noise and
Muslim singing and temple songs and birds and dogs...we had a gentle breakfast
of omelets and toast.
We checked out of our hotel and
took a tuk tuk to a mela,
a craft and cultural festival. The best parts were meeting
an artist who built large terra cotta figures and said he may be coming to
Atlanta sometime in the future. There was a
cool puppet show, and lots of crafts.
We went back to the hotel to meet
our taxi. Traffic was jammed due to holiday Diwali and bumper to bumper on
what seemed to me to be a one lane road. We made it to the airport and
back to our Delhi apt without incident though.
Monday
My last day in India was spent
browsing some government stores and meeting a friend for lunch
at the Imperial Hotel. It is
deeeeelux man.
We had planned to see the
astronomic instruments at Jantar Mantar but
there were protests going on against the USA and it was thought it might be too
risky. There is some kind of diplomatic
hooha going on about an Indian diplomat not following US labor laws as they
pertain to her housekeeper while they are in the US. Go figure.
We went to visit Mr. Bharany
instead. He is a very kind man and appreciates and collects and
celebrates Indian Art. We then returned to the apartment for me to clean up and
pack for home.
My friends
walked me to my taxi at the gate of the apt complex, and we made our farewells.
They are going on to Thailand, but things are pretty hot there.
It's 2 am Christmas Eve and I am
at the gate in the Delhi airport ready to board in about an hour for London,
then Chicago, then hopefully home by Christmas.
(....I just had to get up for the second baggage security check-full scan and pat down at the gate, again. I have had my ticket and passport checked at least 8 different times between the taxi and gate...)
India has been a whirlwind of
numerous humans and incredible dust, smiles, beauty, stink, aroma,
taste, and wonderful friends and incredible art.
Boarding call. I don't
really know how to say "so long" in Hindi.
Some photos are here, but I have
hundreds more:
Namaste y'all.
Sunday, July 21, 2013
Jesus save me
from the fear
that flares in flames all over here.
I'm just so tired of hearing how
we cannot trust each other now.
(I used to think that if I said
the crazy things out of my head
a healing would somehow take place,
if only in a speck of space.
The paradox of the above must mean that I still do.
What? Love?)
that flares in flames all over here.
I'm just so tired of hearing how
we cannot trust each other now.
(I used to think that if I said
the crazy things out of my head
a healing would somehow take place,
if only in a speck of space.
The paradox of the above must mean that I still do.
What? Love?)
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