tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-306457802024-02-07T03:57:06.896-08:00Da Right Rev SpeaksLeading the Examined LifeDaRightRevhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02721848949501389351noreply@blogger.comBlogger22125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30645780.post-37070809890014290732009-01-18T06:33:00.000-08:002009-01-18T06:38:44.778-08:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaCxw5kxCwpESaXQE4oOQE7BCnnUudEg6jSihEDBV7QwE0Y-TGecqLV-zQO9JK6uQJbZDkrtqFAXnqoLMJmOfirDAYER1EX1sc8odLnFPWvvZDvPJu2T79DOpYIo1b67MQa27t1Q/s1600-h/Share+a+smile.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5292642936866746962" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaCxw5kxCwpESaXQE4oOQE7BCnnUudEg6jSihEDBV7QwE0Y-TGecqLV-zQO9JK6uQJbZDkrtqFAXnqoLMJmOfirDAYER1EX1sc8odLnFPWvvZDvPJu2T79DOpYIo1b67MQa27t1Q/s320/Share+a+smile.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">The Great GaDu</span></strong></div><br /><div></div><br /><div>I visited my daughter and her family in Austin yesterday. It was my grandson's 2nd birthday. He is learning words fast now, but he has been a little slow to talk, though he does know his numbers from 1-10 and all his letters (proud grandpa here).</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Of course he knows Mommy and DaDa, and he calls my wife Mimi. We were looking at family pictures, and when asked who I was, he said "GaDu." We think this is a diminuitive for GrandDad, but who knows.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>In the grand tradition of the first grandchild naming the grandparents, maybe I will become the Great GaDu. It's not Cool Mark or G-Diddy, but it's not too bad.</div>DaRightRevhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02721848949501389351noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30645780.post-58296448509694485162008-05-31T09:41:00.000-07:002008-06-15T15:14:36.047-07:00<strong><span style="font-size:130%;">TBD.com</span></strong><br /><br />So, Facebook led me to a new social network for those over 40 - Tee Bee Dee. I have joined, but there is not much to do other than join in Group discussions, but some are quite good. I did join The Writing Group (TWG) and submitted my first story, which is also posted below. I encourage those interested in writing to check it out.<br /><br /><strong>My Father's Shoes</strong><br /><br />Damn!<br /><br />“Sam, any idea if we have black shoelaces somewhere? This one just broke.”<br /><br />Eric slipped the black, cap-toed Oxford shoe off his foot and went to rummage about in his dresser for a new lace. Hidden in the corner, behind the silk handkerchief and the mostly unused bow tie, he found a package of waxed shoe strings, black.<br /><br />In 1963, when Eric was 8 years old and some of television was still black and white (although his parents had splurged on a Magnavox a year earlier with his mother’s inheritance money: that was a discussion) he sat in the family living room on Saturday nights and watched Paladin and The Old Ranger and hoped he could stay up to see wrestling from the Sportatorium. His father would polish those Oxfords. Routine: light a match to melt the Kiwi polish – gingerly drop the polish lid on this intriguing flame – dip the rubbing cloth in the melted polish and spread a fine layer all over the shoe (laces out, of course) – brush the polish to a high sheen, sometimes spitting, sometimes not – buff the shoe with the lambs wool buffer. Do it again on the other shoe. Lace them up.<br /><br />That routine never varied, although sometimes it would be Sunday night, not Saturday night, when church fell away from the family rituals. Once a month, black sole dressing was spread on the overly scarred edges of the sole. It took a while longer for Eric to understand how his mother covered over the scars in her soul.<br /><br />Eric didn’t know how long his father had owned that pair of cap-toed Oxfords, with the small line of punches in the cap’s edge, but he did know that they were to be polished every week. For a while, Eric’s dress shoes joined those of his father in the ritual. Later, it would be Eric who would do the shoes, all the shoes, under the not-so-watchful eye of his Wooden Indian father and his nervous, quiet mother. Someone would get up from the TV for a beer now and then: first one, then the other, matching can for can.<br /><br />Eric finished lacing the shoe and sat down again to slip it on, tie it up, admire his polish-work. He was going to a wedding today, the very first one he was to officiate. The shoes had an ancient look to them, but sported new leather soles. Eric didn’t know why he pulled out these old shoes to wear: he had a dozen other pairs of dress shoes more modern, more stylish, more him. “Something old, something new . . .” his mind wandered as he drove to the outdoor park where the wedding was to take place.<br /><br />…something borrowed, something blue.” His mother would have been proud of his shoes that day. That was the last time Eric ever wore those shoes, and later, when he dropped them in the Goodwill box, he thought about those Saturday nights with and without his parents.DaRightRevhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02721848949501389351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30645780.post-82532235529690167642008-05-04T08:09:00.000-07:002008-05-04T08:12:36.573-07:00<strong><span style="font-size:130%;">Got a New Look</span></strong><br /><br />Check out the new look on the blog. I have added some features, like the Video Log. I will try to change it out frequently. Also, I hope to get around to adding all those cool sites that people send me all the time, that never get collected in any one place.<br /><br />I have also added commerce: click on the ads and give me mo' money!!!!DaRightRevhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02721848949501389351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30645780.post-67085014600096627402008-04-20T15:52:00.000-07:002008-04-20T16:20:21.092-07:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM0M5aKIjVrKIoNKQIMWF2r6unkQ8UrkKGMjIPNopILh5j2sfMpiHWIOV-NGLKa4kqchQBlgQnpyG_pGaeuG5ByGkIjKkokMSme0bqub6IPKR1DC6jV7C_k3RWd3klGjlu-DL7Tw/s1600-h/99+Sunset+on+the+beach.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191469984207102770" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM0M5aKIjVrKIoNKQIMWF2r6unkQ8UrkKGMjIPNopILh5j2sfMpiHWIOV-NGLKa4kqchQBlgQnpyG_pGaeuG5ByGkIjKkokMSme0bqub6IPKR1DC6jV7C_k3RWd3klGjlu-DL7Tw/s320/99+Sunset+on+the+beach.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">Spring Evenings</span></strong><br /><br /></div><div>There aren't many memories I have that are more powerful than memories of spring or summer evenings where the light fades very slowly, and the breeze that kicks up at night is a welcome companion. Many of the best things I can recall are associated with just such evenings. I like the sound of the word "evening" and the connotation that this is the time when you balance out the day, you make your life "even" again. Some things I associate with late spring/early summer evenings:<br /><br /></div><ul><li>Softball games in Grand Prairie, TX with John Shipman, Greg Nix, Mike Edwards, John Nix, Danny Rucker, John Zacharias, many others</li><br /><br /><li>UTA intramural sports - Mike Kessler on our soccer team: the only guy who knew how to play</li><br /><br /><li>Barbara Merrill's Volkswagen stalling outside my house and I hear it through an open bedroom window: Mark to the rescue</li><br /><br /><li>Watermelon fights at Amfisso apartments: swimming in the half-full pool with our clothes on</li><br /><br /><li>Sitting by Steve's pool with Dr. Steve and Dr. Karl, or any of the 4th of July parties</li><br /><br /><li>On the beach in Jacksonville with my bro</li><br /><br /><li>Coming up the 18th fairway with Ken Rystad, playing golf until you couldn't really see the ball land </li><br /><br /><li>Terilli's patio moments</li><br /><br /><li>Walking to the UTA library from Border West, or walking to the Psych Building</li><br /><br /><li>Pool parties at Mary McKinney's house</li><br /><br /><li>Sitting by my pool now with Teresa, drinking good wine and talking</li><br /><br /><li>Playing minature golf in Overton Texas with my grandparents, swatting mosquitoes and smelling the sawdust</li><br /><br /><li>Watching the sun set from the Adea offices and listening to Steve say "this is your town"</li><br /><br /><li>Most recently, drinking wine with Mary Webb and Teresa in Archer City</li></ul><br /><p>My life hasn't been all about motion, like some of my friends. Steve was always in motion: still is. David Casey was always in motion, though sometimes slow motion. Kevin is a motion guy: not still until the night is deep upon us does he wind down. I am not a motion guy.</p><br /><p>It is the stopping that I remember most, and spring and summer evenings are made for stopping and looking, listening, smelling. I am not going to waste any more evenings.</p>DaRightRevhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02721848949501389351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30645780.post-65362446552849312082008-02-02T07:05:00.000-08:002008-04-20T15:50:41.781-07:00<strong><span style="font-size:130%;">Wondering and Wandering</span></strong><br /><br /><br />As some of you know, I am in the throes of some kind of crisis – mid-life, meaning of my life, stagnancy vs. generavity – not sure what to name it, but basically I am 52 years old and think I ought to go ahead and do what I was meant to do, rather than what I know how to do. The only trouble is, I am not sure what I am meant to do.<br /><br />So I am randomly casting about, reading things and thinking about things, and in general just trying to open up, since my tendency is to close down and try to plan outcomes, rather than let things flow. This morning, I see a video piece about some guy in Montana riding a covered wagon to California. And in the video, all these people who see him basically say, “If I wasn’t (married, tied down, committed, constrained, bound by velvet ropes, you fill in the blank) I would do the same thing. Up and go. Travel and see where it takes me.” So in my fevered state of mind, I think, “Yeah. Me too. Only how can I facilitate this? Is there an industry/website/organization devoted to helping people wander?”<br /><br />Sidebar – I read somewhere that elder men in the Indian culture take journeys once they retire. They go on some form of walkabout. I think I read it in a Salman Rushdie novel. Matt Freeman (CEO of Tribal DDB) and I kid about what will happen when we go on our walkabout.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://questioning.org/"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5162400526365308994" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYSpYzGaRa3FXKWxf_yGs6u5EF5RqjCfTnSe4kK9JioaSevoiV58b4GWfuziVCRx7Fsfz9oOQQy_QFxm4ddNIIubJ4NuRKY7KiHfx_mng18v4p2nNY7M7gw-2Rm6jE34d_A85uWg/s200/questionmrk.jpg" border="0" /></a>I Googled "wandering planning US" because how the hell do you search for websites about planning to go wandering (oxymoron of the highest nature).<br /><br /><br />I found this website, by a former teacher/principal/librarian and it has some stuff that was really eye-opening, but also some stuff that seemed very incongruous. I don't know quite what to make of it, except that I like the fact this guy is apparently making a living talking about thinking in a different way. Gives me hope.<br /><br />The March, 2007 issue had some really interesting things to say about the value of wondering, and wandering. So I wonder if there is a way to help facilitate wandering, in the sense of helping people plan not to plan?<br /><br />I would be interested to know anyone's thoughts on the topics, either personal or professional.<br /><a href="http://questioning.org/index2.html"></a>DaRightRevhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02721848949501389351noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30645780.post-4114215569776802612007-11-22T04:37:00.000-08:002007-11-23T08:11:15.288-08:00<strong><span style="font-size:130%;">Archer City Road Trip</span></strong><br /><br /><br /><div><div><div><div>If you know Texas literature, you know Archer City. Home of Larry McMurtry, model for <em>The Last Picture Show</em>, icon of "the same small town in each of us."<br /></div></div><div><br /></div><p>Teresa an<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyagfOUvM_MFkzc6OdoX0mqM4LM_HRYlX6fkh7naLnOOI1uKNyhdFDjdxQ4WsYeXwEDl1iJoPeLNGM-o-YyDntX2PVodi07DiGBKftrv1ncCo_QaZtk6pnd1nJeYGnAmuf-tS_sA/s1600-h/IMG_1540.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5135651050502015442" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyagfOUvM_MFkzc6OdoX0mqM4LM_HRYlX6fkh7naLnOOI1uKNyhdFDjdxQ4WsYeXwEDl1iJoPeLNGM-o-YyDntX2PVodi07DiGBKftrv1ncCo_QaZtk6pnd1nJeYGnAmuf-tS_sA/s200/IMG_1540.jpg" border="0" /></a>d I visited Archer City last weekend: her suggestion. I have recently gotten on a collecting jag and decided I would try to get a copy of every McMurtry book published, preferably first edition, preferably signed. There are 40 or 41 books (depends if you include <em>Daughters of the Tejas</em>, credited to Ophelia Ray, but ghostwritten by Larry McMurtry). I currently have 32 first editions, 17 of them signed, and one 2nd edition signed (<em>Texasville</em>, which I bought in Lincoln, Nebraska when McMurtry was speaking there and had it signed to me - the only one in my collection expressly signed for me).</p><div><br /><br /></div><p>Teresa was prett<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkVmlUZCSAqrXODscLsD0LaCWSqWtilzPS12rgw-4vKxmjcpZbh_zOrLRiWlXzDW2xSFRAjmbQS7_7wGOtgrCV0Dn1OjfhdjmwMLwkd_rSV57S78xxhG3H_6xL9SpLbMfpVrLb5w/s1600-h/IMG_1549.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5135645866476489106" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkVmlUZCSAqrXODscLsD0LaCWSqWtilzPS12rgw-4vKxmjcpZbh_zOrLRiWlXzDW2xSFRAjmbQS7_7wGOtgrCV0Dn1OjfhdjmwMLwkd_rSV57S78xxhG3H_6xL9SpLbMfpVrLb5w/s200/IMG_1549.jpg" border="0" /></a>y sure we would see McMurtry, because she works with a woman who used to live in Archer City who said he was often at the Dairy Queen. Turns out that he now spends most of his time in Tuscon, and only occasionally returns to Archer City. When he does, he doesn't stay in his large house by the golf course (see picture) but instead stays at the Lonesome Dove Inn on Main Street, where we stayed, in the <em>Terms of Endearment</em> room. We did get to see the Golden Globe and Oscar he and Diana Ossana won for the screenplay for <em>Brokeback Mountain</em>. They sit on the mantle at the Lonseome Dove Inn.<br /><br /></p><p>The main attraction in Archer City is Booked Up!, McMurtry's famous <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDfQunXV_XZDmabjRmG3_16usoljtFixT7rBTu5-VPj1P3CV2k_X9iJWg_JbkYRVbuWNfAWVVdWaUKpf_iKlxI0GA9_yvQiQMduUk91g08LhwegjasSMCTJnzgwd8kZH-7vdaIBA/s1600-h/IMG_1507.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5135647786326870434" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDfQunXV_XZDmabjRmG3_16usoljtFixT7rBTu5-VPj1P3CV2k_X9iJWg_JbkYRVbuWNfAWVVdWaUKpf_iKlxI0GA9_yvQiQMduUk91g08LhwegjasSMCTJnzgwd8kZH-7vdaIBA/s200/IMG_1507.jpg" border="0" /></a>bookstore. It is located in four buildings around the town square. In each, there are literally thousands of books (somewhere around 150,000 in total). T and I found it overwhelming to even take such collections on. We browsed for a few hours, but it was literally tiring. I think we wound up buying 7 or 8 books (including a Jospeh Heller first/first that was signed and a Review Copy of Issac Bashevis Singer's <em>Lonely in America</em>).<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwTM20MU6Dr8KcpAAVooKU-h2KSJt5fHNXFXob5uehSqhcUQFvTBpRY3HPh919_W1hlECGsYfZJBqmI1C4texygZXGG6olbxeh_AS3c6deTzpoUx33CjK4OWvUK5w6OHOuu1qLsA/s1600-h/IMG_1512.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5135648641025362354" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwTM20MU6Dr8KcpAAVooKU-h2KSJt5fHNXFXob5uehSqhcUQFvTBpRY3HPh919_W1hlECGsYfZJBqmI1C4texygZXGG6olbxeh_AS3c6deTzpoUx33CjK4OWvUK5w6OHOuu1qLsA/s200/IMG_1512.jpg" border="0" /></a></p><div><br /><br /></div><div>At the Lonseome Dove Inn, we met the retired diganostician and now full-time innkeeper, Mary Webb. Mary is the sister of Ceil Cleveland, a high school classmate of McMurtry's and thought to be the model for his character, Jacy Farrow, in <em>The Last Picture Show</em>. Turns out that while Jacy flaunted the patriarchy of the small Texas town by being promiscuous (or as promiscuous as you could get in the 1950's), Ceil flaunted it by being intellectual, free thinking, and ambitious beyond the confines of Archer City. Apparently, she and McMurtry were friendly rivals for the label "smartest kid in school." </div><div><br /><br /></div><div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5135650011119929794" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQecSenFkvyIXM16KJg5N-wvIlG0Stk2sRKwwImwmcKB2C1iI7KOEAr_Ymse2chiGer2grfP6L6mPJUTGfWUlBw5rak7ddgR44kMSIg7_4RpCHBcClXjFbKvs_V6xPbbjLF476gA/s320/IMG_1544.jpg" border="0" /> </div><div></div><div><p><br />It was fun to see places that a McMurtry-phile like me would recognize. We found out the pool hall where Sam the Lio<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1jejoj9Py95KQ1b2ZhB9zw8qfg094DLdQO_nZixemBh6MLRu2IRrm803cBOEz6k-HsgJl0FmqHCyGjh7d1ARD8Mw7I-B-N0CdDgOekudlTMj4voaICvEoE-j9Q8x7EDfQdxvd3w/s1600-h/IMG_1517.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5135652313222400498" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1jejoj9Py95KQ1b2ZhB9zw8qfg094DLdQO_nZixemBh6MLRu2IRrm803cBOEz6k-HsgJl0FmqHCyGjh7d1ARD8Mw7I-B-N0CdDgOekudlTMj4voaICvEoE-j9Q8x7EDfQdxvd3w/s320/IMG_1517.jpg" border="0" /></a>n held court was gone, but the ruins of the old theatre were still there. </p></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>The Dairy Queen, the local spot where McMurtry muses on aging in <em>Walter Benjamin at the Dairy Queen</em>, one of his later books, was hopping, and Teresa had a large dipped cone, a DQ special treat.</div><div><p></p></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>Turns out that everywhere in town except Sonic and DQ closes at 5 p.m. on Saturday, so we had to go to Wichita Falls for dinner. McBride's Land and Cattle, where we had good steaks and a passable Shiraz.</div><div><p></p></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>One of the more interesting turns of events was the sleeping arrangement. We had one room at the Inn, and supposedly a band, who was playing a dance at the VFW hall that evening, was taking the rest. It turns out they only used two. We met <a href="http://profile.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user.viewprofile&friendid=64543756">Anna Marie</a>, who is a singer that has some relation to (or at least knows of) <a href="http://www.musicianguide.com/biographies/1608004416/Mae-Axton.html">Mae Axton</a>, mother of Hoyt Axton and famous composer of Heartbreak Hotel. She was very excited to know that I knew of Mae Axton. This girl was brimming with enthusiasm: her dreams were out there for all to see and she didn't care a lick. She was singing with Dean Anderson (aka <a href="http://profile.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user.viewprofile&friendid=260707114">Dylan Dean</a>), a newly found country talent who just signed with BMI. In 30 minutes, we felt like we had known her for a long time, learning of her adventures as a teeenager at the Four Seasons in Las Colinas. </div><div><p></p></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>When we came down from our room Sunday morning, her boots and Dean's boots were side by side in the stting room, with his cowboy hat on top. How cute.</div><div><p></p></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>We did go through Windthorst, an old German settlement that was the closest town to the McMurtry ranch where Larry grew up. In his book, <em>Roads</em>, he talks about riding on a horse with his Grandpa 9 miles in to get the mail in Windthorst. Travel was a slow process then. He also talked about the German immigrant approach to the world, sort of hyperresponsible. In his book, he tells the story of a farmer who killed himself (the prairies are very wide open and the wind blows all the time: it can be haunting), but not before he got up and milked the cow that morning.</div><div><p></p></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>As always, there is no such thing as a bad road trip. If you ever get the chance to drop in on Archer City, say "hello" to Mary. </div></div>DaRightRevhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02721848949501389351noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30645780.post-73255851889999100382007-10-27T05:09:00.000-07:002007-10-27T05:11:13.416-07:00<strong><span style="font-size:130%;">MySpace "About Me"</span></strong><br /><br />The human drama plays out only once for each of us. This is the actual play; there is no rehearsal. We are allotted 20,000+ days (at most), so we have to spend each one as if it is a precious resource. The best way to do that is in the company of friends and family, both new and old.<br /><br />I have been a scientist, a writer, a college professor, a practicing psychologist, a salesman, a project manager, a motivational speaker, and out of work. I have lived in over 15 different residences in my life, some of them small (615 sq. ft) and some of them large (38 acres in Johnson County, Texas).<br /><br />I have a Doctorate in Psychology, an almost Masters in English Lit, and the title of Right Reverend from the Universal Church (I have performed three weddings - all legal). I am pretty smart, but I have never ridden a horse.<br /><br />I am more confused the older I get, because the certainty of youth gives way to the vastness of all space and time. How could anyone get their minds around everything? I learn easily, forget easily these days, and still feel overwhelmed by what is out there.<br /><br />I love, in no particular order, my wife, my daughter, my stepdaughter, my grandson, my brother and his family, the way sheets feel when you first get into bed, my friends, Ratcliff Lake, slightly risky sex, rain in the summer, conversation, good wine, campfires, dogs, and books. I hope I die before I get old. I don't want to ever go to a funeral for a friend, so you bastards better keep living right!DaRightRevhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02721848949501389351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30645780.post-44149193564725804142007-09-27T14:17:00.001-07:002007-09-27T15:48:46.183-07:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu-0_UyOK8u0wdoHfFDWbjmZLZN3aVV5OA7e_zHYH7aWEWvz6VZwsMJRVR6kQ0U7lSpIowxIf-9ccP7PX8QA5qSYti8QVL91GRTi1B5iq8ZfqzD9WlMX280VON6DrtSvNsIs5sog/s1600-h/MGandhi.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5115012617427295282" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu-0_UyOK8u0wdoHfFDWbjmZLZN3aVV5OA7e_zHYH7aWEWvz6VZwsMJRVR6kQ0U7lSpIowxIf-9ccP7PX8QA5qSYti8QVL91GRTi1B5iq8ZfqzD9WlMX280VON6DrtSvNsIs5sog/s200/MGandhi.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">Interesting Content</span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><br /><div>I just learned about a site, <a href="http://www.stumbleupon.com/">http://www.stumbleupon.com/</a>, where you can register and indicate interests, and then use the "stumble" feature to have websites relevant to your interests (the community uploads and tags websites) displayed one after the other. Since there are hundreds of millions of websites, some of them no more than a few lines, the sites returned vary greatly.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>One interest I indicated - philosophy - turned up a website - <a href="http://www.doctorhugo.org/">http://www.doctorhugo.org/</a> - where the following list from Mahatma Gandhi was displayed:</div><br /><div></div><br /><div><span style="color:#ff0000;">"Seven Blunders of the World"</span><br /></div><ol><li>Wealth without work</li><br /><li>Pleasure without conscience</li><br /><li>Knowledge without character</li><br /><li>Commerce without morality</li><br /><li>Science without humanity</li><br /><li>Worship without sacrifice</li><br /><li>Politics without principle</li></ol><br /><p>Think about the first one. Being given money (wealth) without having earned it can cause a learned helplessness (rewards or punishments are not contigent upon action). This has recently been called affluenza, a condition where children grow up in well-to-do families where they do not have to earn their own way, and are then rudderless. Every child's got to have his own.</p><p>Pleasure without conscience, wtithout awareness of how others might not have pleasure and how fortunate you are to have such, would be a life without gratitude. Better to be grateful always: count your blessings daily for a happier existence.</p><p>Knowledge without character: we know knowledge is power and we do not want to endow those without character with the power to affect us all (see politics without principles). Many a sociopath has great knowledge, often used against their victims.</p><p>Commerce without morality. Capitalism only works well if you play fair. Cheating to gain an advantage corrupts the entire system. Lying to get more business is bad kharma. Enron proved that the innocent get caught up in the backwash.</p><p>The ethics of science have grown even more complex since Gandhi's analysis, but I would like everyone who is on the verge of discovering how to clone humans, how to create nanobots that live inside us, and how to grow human organs <em>in vitro</em> to check their ethics. When we can play God, should we? And should we let anyone other </p><p>Everybody has to serve somebody. Bob Dylan told me so. The joy of worship is sacrifice, giving all to free yourself of worldly concerns other than worship. I struggle mightily with this one, though I believe it as fervently as the others.</p><p>Finally, politics without principle is analogous to trying to always please everyone, without knowing if your actions are moral or not. The focus group and instant polls are the bane of good politics. All politicans see how a statement "plays in Peoria" and then craft their messages accordingly (well, maybe not all, but those who are electable). That's because we teh public do not want to hear bad news, even if it is the truth. Sweet lies. Ronald Reagan was the master. No wonder we are so disillusioned with politics; we created it by ignoring these truths.</p>DaRightRevhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02721848949501389351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30645780.post-80608130504287130622007-09-03T05:33:00.000-07:002007-09-03T05:37:48.696-07:00<span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>My Favorite Coffee Cup</strong></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br />Do you have a favorite coffe cup? Mine is a roughly-sealed, hand-thrown mug from Vermont with a crude moose figure on it. The cup is earthen colored and the moose is brown. The texture of the sealing makes it feel as if it is rough and bumpy. I bought when Teresa and I went to Hanover, New Hampshire to meet Marvin and Sue Ann for a short vacation.<br /><br />I don't know why it is my favorite, but when I open the cabinet and it is there (as opposed to in the dishwasher), I always feel lifted.<br /><br />Do you hve other simple objcts in your life that provide an emotional anchoring, like my moose cup?DaRightRevhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02721848949501389351noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30645780.post-14206205077907986832007-04-13T17:42:00.000-07:002007-04-13T17:46:20.667-07:00<strong><span style="font-size:130%;">Kurt Vonnegut Died</span></strong><br /><br />Tiger got to hunt,<br />Bird got to fly;<br />Man got to sit and wonder, "Why?why?why?"<br /><br />Tiger got to sleep,<br />Bird got to land;<br />Man got to tell himself he understand.<br /><br />I don't understand how you can read Vonnegut and not laugh and cry at the same time.<br /><br />Shame on us; thanks be given for us.<br /><br />Sleep well, friend, sleep well.DaRightRevhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02721848949501389351noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30645780.post-88686596102264033322007-03-26T08:55:00.000-07:002007-03-26T09:12:03.803-07:00<span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;">Responsibility "Gene"</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Why are certain people able to set clear boundaries and only take on the duties, tasks, and burdens that are truly theirs, while others feel compelled to step in and make sure things "turn out right?"</span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;">Is the latter a case of overresponsibility and what are the consequences of such actions? Are these people ripe for manipulation by those looking to move some responsibility off of their own plates? </span><span style="font-family:Arial;">The latter often commit to performing a task and then blatantly ignore it. Are they just ambitious overreachers who we should cut slack since they have the big vision, or are they trading in the plaudits that come with signing up, knowing that when the rubber meets the road, one of those overresponsible types will jump into the breach to help them?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;">Can you stand by and watch something important you are associated with (like a presentation, a client meeting, or a planned family event) come to a disastorous end because the person responsible did not do his or her job? I have trouble not pitching in to make it better. Am I a team player, an enabler, or someone who likes the role of martyr? These are questions I have to ask myself.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;">I would appreciate any feedback, as I currently have run into this dilemma several times in the past couple of months. I do know that such overresponsible behavior seems to carry with it a simmering resentment, at least for me, that can't really be good for me or those I work with.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span>DaRightRevhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02721848949501389351noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30645780.post-54799996845710241042007-03-21T03:54:00.000-07:002007-03-21T04:08:51.290-07:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu4wpMpn43ld_kVmwVITYVGVbptMtZNcB0QHLZtekm8m0pkuR4SSnPevg0F29_uCvM4sxwm51qIHoA7roGqL1Ft90a9B4kHPbL3zwY4pHXdz3eSX_UFtIXd72N_BUfU0clhP_NNw/s1600-h/2-25-2007-18.jpg"><strong><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5044329683318037458" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu4wpMpn43ld_kVmwVITYVGVbptMtZNcB0QHLZtekm8m0pkuR4SSnPevg0F29_uCvM4sxwm51qIHoA7roGqL1Ft90a9B4kHPbL3zwY4pHXdz3eSX_UFtIXd72N_BUfU0clhP_NNw/s200/2-25-2007-18.jpg" border="0" /></strong></a><strong> <span style="font-size:130%;">Meeting the Grandson</span></strong><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">I got to meet my grandson, Conall Broderick, in late February, 2007. It had been a long time since I had held a baby, so (as you can see) I am a little nervous.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;">The most amazing part of the trip was watching my daughter and her husband as they cared for their son. I admit to grave doubts about them having a child: they were awfully young themselves, and not very settled in careers or even their marriage. But they sure seemed to take to it well. I was amazed at how casually my daughter dealt with the responsibility. Not casual as in lacksidasical, but casual as in relaxed and competent.</span><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq92whcJm34GKIa1LKQbRc3v3sEkN6_QLdNTnYbiui84mxe9Qm6XYK2K-_fbMOk7kKWuhp2ON9z_W3WKVY7U2GxAoAVKAdM_0Zu6kOIMhxBryh0ZpI0ABecOEjIf1_7qBDlTF5YA/s1600-h/2-25-2007-07.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5044331259571035106" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq92whcJm34GKIa1LKQbRc3v3sEkN6_QLdNTnYbiui84mxe9Qm6XYK2K-_fbMOk7kKWuhp2ON9z_W3WKVY7U2GxAoAVKAdM_0Zu6kOIMhxBryh0ZpI0ABecOEjIf1_7qBDlTF5YA/s200/2-25-2007-07.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:arial;">So another life starts. I know that he will hit all of the milestones and some will be joyful and some will be trying (lost innocence is still hard to take). I am trying not to invest too much in my hopes, and make room for his dreams as they form. I am curious as to what he will teach me. I can hardly wait!</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Welcome to the funhouse, Conall. It is quite a ride.</span>DaRightRevhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02721848949501389351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30645780.post-45472835374999861462007-03-21T03:20:00.000-07:002007-03-21T03:53:18.747-07:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoiEqhXZLc2m6p3VqVcCzZb1eRKhT70MDTu4tdTx5aKBHmaFY_T2wb2imuxEqg1erpZ8HXcGzn1JA4uJfTA1sXW0WnDbkFW2fg1Ir5dKnx_2xoJks-xSwrmWAQ_IE0f8N-J4It6Q/s1600-h/58322100189510M.gif"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5044322519312587714" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoiEqhXZLc2m6p3VqVcCzZb1eRKhT70MDTu4tdTx5aKBHmaFY_T2wb2imuxEqg1erpZ8HXcGzn1JA4uJfTA1sXW0WnDbkFW2fg1Ir5dKnx_2xoJks-xSwrmWAQ_IE0f8N-J4It6Q/s320/58322100189510M.gif" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a onclick="return amz_js_PopWin('http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/images/158322713X/ref=dp_image_0/103-7736352-0971016?ie=UTF8&n=283155&s=books','AmazonHelp','width=700,height=600,resizable=1,scrollbars=1,toolbar=0,status=1');" href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/images/158322713X/ref=dp_image_0/103-7736352-0971016?ie=UTF8&n=283155&s=books" target="AmazonHelp"></a><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">Remembering Kurt Vonnegut</span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div></div><div><br /><br />OK, so he is not dead, but I am remembering first finding out about Kurt Vonnegut. I am reminded because I just read <em>A Man Without a Country</em>, his 2005 semi-memoirs, semi-rant, semi-autobiography.</div><div></div><div></div><div><br /><br />Like almost everything by Vonnegut, it is worth the read, and this volume is so slim that your wisdom returned/time invested ratio is very high. It is in paperback and not very expensive (compared to gasoline).</div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div><a href="http://www.sevenstories.com/Book/index.cfm?GCOI=58322100189510"><span style="font-size:78%;">http://www.sevenstories.com/Book/index.cfm?GCOI=58322100189510</span></a></div><div></div><div></div><div><br /><br />Now I am thinking about how my college roommate David introduced me to <em>Breakfast of Champions</em>, and we both wanted to know more about Kilgore Trout, so <em>Venus on the Halfshell</em> was next. Next up was our friend Mike who shared his copy of <em>Cat's Cradle</em>, and the world of Bokkonon and Ice-Nine was opened. And, much later, I find out that Kevin had an epiphany reading <em>Slaughterhouse-Five</em>. and may actually believe he is Billy Pilgrim. </div><div></div><div></div><div><br /><br />Vonnegut should be just that - a shared discovery. I came to Ellison and Mailer and Kesey and Bellow through the tradtional channels (literature courses in college), but Vonnegut! He ought to be something you get from your friends, like dope or the girl's name in your psych class that you want to meet (shout out to Susan C.).</div><div></div><div></div><div><br /><br />So, I give it a ten - you can really dance to it!</div>DaRightRevhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02721848949501389351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30645780.post-1159924771456478722006-10-03T18:04:00.000-07:002007-10-23T17:00:13.834-07:00<strong><span style="font-size:130%;">Wedding Toast</span></strong><br /><br />I was at my daughter's wedding over the weekend, and she asked that I prepare a toast for the occasion. In addition to the daunting task of uttering the line "her family and I" when asked who gives this woman to be wed, I had to get through the following speech before we cut the cake. I practiced and practiced and was never able to read it aloud without choking up. I think I did OK with the actual toast (I had to "take a minute" a couple of times) but it seemed to turn out well. Here is the text:<br /><br />"When you have the good fortune to have a child, a beautiful little daughter, you are immediately scared. Scared beyond belief that you won't be able to shoulder all the responsibility of sheparding this new, fragile life into the 'veil of tears.'<br /><br />As she grows, you foolishly grow more confident: Confident that you can help shape and steer this undirected bundle down a safe and rewarding path. You actually believe you can keep her from harm's way.<br /><br />But somewhere, things change. Your little girl turns out to be a little person, then a not-so-little person, then a fully grown 'I'll make my own decisions' woman.<br /><br />And you are scared again. Scared beyond belief that somehow, somewhere you made a mistake, you forgot an ingredient in the magic potion. Will your darling child be able to avoid the dangers, the pitfalls of a dangerous world? Did you fail her?<br /><br />So she chooses. Some you agree with and some you don't. You are alternately relieved and anxious. Sure, Erin understands Bob Dylan. Good choice. Sure, Erin pierced her eyebrow with a saftey pin, when she was 14, on a Saturday morning, while cleaning the house. What were you thinking? Seriously.<br /><br />As those choices pile up, and you are consulted less at first and more later, you force yourself to relax. Your beautiful little daughter has a big, beautiful mind, and will, and sense of self. Her choices fit - her. She learns from her mistakes; mabye not always the first time, but eventually, and at least as well as you.<br /><br />So here's to you Erin and your terrific choice of Daniel (not such a bad chooser himself) to be your friend, partner, and mate. May you both have many choices in front of you, and may you find all the challenges you need and all the secrets you desire.<br /><br />Please always be kind one to the other. Laugh at your own foibles, and relax. They almost always turn out just right."DaRightRevhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02721848949501389351noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30645780.post-1157292611624599642006-09-03T06:42:00.000-07:002006-10-03T18:21:53.776-07:00<span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>Birthdays</strong></span><br /><br />My 51st birthday just passed, so this is an excellent time for some contemplation. Particularly since I spent it at the Ballpark in Arlington watching the Texas Rangers lose again. The dogged blows of defeat were softened somewhat by the company (Thanks T, Jeff, V, and John) and the drinks, but mostly by the comfort of the Gold Club.<br /><br />At 51, sitting outside in Texas heat no longer is nostalgic (ah, the summers of my youth), just crazy. Instead, we adjourned to the air-conditioned Gold Club to barely pay attention to the game and to learn of wonderful events like Beer Kickball, at which John apparently excels.<br /><br />On a different note, I also learned that I will soon (sometime in January) be introduced to my grandson. Yes, Erin did the ultrasound and is revealing the gender - the little fellow finally cooperated by turning around and proudly displaying his equipment.<br /><br />Grandson - a strange concept to me, having only had one daughter and one stepdaughter. Well, I firmly believe boys are easier to raise than girls (based solely on the single shred of evidence that if they were harder to raise than my daughter, people would kill them). Hopefully, he will be as smart as Erin was, and as determined to create his own sense of self. What appeared to be difficulty turns out to have been the very best thing, because Erin is aware of herself, of others, and knows how to make her way in this rather difficult world. I am glad my grandson is getting solid parents. I take at least 50% credit :)<br /><br />It is not always easy to do the right thing, as I am learning yet again. Justification and rationalization are easier. Work that is not fulfilling can be soul deadening, but work where you find yourself compromising your principles is soul killing. I am sure someone out there must have also run up against this issue.<br /><br />I am currently reading Geoffery Wolff's biography of John O'Hara, very cleverly titled <em>The Art of Burning Bridges</em>. While not an O'Hara fan (<em>Pal Joey, Butterfield 8, Appointment in Sumarra</em>) I find it very interesting to read about his mixture of insecurity and arrogance. When you meet someone who is just totally full of himself, often they have had very unsettling events in their past, and that event most likely is a distant or unloving parent. John O'Hara was a pill as an adolescent, totally full of himself, but his father disdained him to such a degree that on his (father's) deathbed, his last words were "Poor John." Damn, what a curse to carry, particularly if you are a high self monitor (to use a psychological term) who pays careful attention to how other people react to you. As parents, I am not sure we understand how the slights we offer our children can be nourished into full-fledged personality problems as they grow older.<br /><br />So my advice - if you are a parent, tell your child you love them, because you probably do, but you may not make it obvious. Be comfortable with their sins - it's not our place to judge. And if you are a child, forgive your father or mother for those hurts because they probably didn't mean it. Life is so distracting that things get said and actions taken all the time that have no meaning other than they were convenient in the moment.DaRightRevhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02721848949501389351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30645780.post-1155560087751368922006-08-14T05:50:00.000-07:002006-08-14T05:54:47.763-07:00<strong><span style="font-size:130%;">Just Installed FIOS</span></strong><br /><br />I just got the new fiber optic network from Verizon, FIOS, installed. TV, Internet, and phone service all through fiber optic cables.<br /><br />The speed is great (movies download very quickly) and the TV works as promised. Very satisfied, so far. They also offer a good HD TV package, so I no longer have to have local cable to get local HD channels (a problem with my dish service previously).<br /><br />However, as there is balance in the universe, when one technological tool is functioning well, another must fail. My swimming pool pump went out yesterday and I fear will need replacement. Arrggh. I KNEW pools were expensive, but this one is killing me, what with replacing parts after only three years.DaRightRevhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02721848949501389351noreply@blogger.com169tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30645780.post-1152964828724334062006-07-15T04:53:00.000-07:002006-07-15T05:00:28.740-07:00<span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>backyard flowers</strong></span><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2143/3291/1600/clematis.jpg"><img style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2143/3291/320/clematis.jpg" border="0" /></a> <a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2143/3291/1600/flower%20cart.jpg"><img style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2143/3291/320/flower%20cart.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2143/3291/1600/hearty%20hybiscus.jpg"><img style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2143/3291/320/hearty%20hybiscus.jpg" border="0" /></a> <a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2143/3291/1600/hybiscus.jpg"><img style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2143/3291/320/hybiscus.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2143/3291/1600/mums2.jpg"><img style="CURSOR: hand" height="240" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2143/3291/320/mums2.jpg" width="306" border="0" /></a> <a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2143/3291/1600/mexican%20petunia.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 295px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 239px" height="231" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2143/3291/320/mexican%20petunia.jpg" width="295" border="0" /></a> <div><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2143/3291/1600/mexican%20petunia.jpg"></a></div><br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2143/3291/1600/zinnias2.jpg"><img style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2143/3291/320/zinnias2.jpg" border="0" /></a><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2143/3291/1600/mexican%20petunia.jpg"></a>DaRightRevhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02721848949501389351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30645780.post-1152633089866132072006-07-11T08:37:00.000-07:002006-07-11T08:52:48.476-07:00<strong><span style="font-size:130%;">Web 2.0 and Marketing</span></strong><br /><br />The rise of consumer control over market messaging is a revolution that will reform how marketing and advertising companies communicate. In the spirit of revolution, we hold these truths to be self-evident:<br /><br /><ul><li>Consumers will actively avoid advertising and marketing unless there is some ROI (Return on Involvement) and technology makes it easy to do so</li><li>The most trusted source of information about a brand is friends and family </li><li>Technology allows anyone to publish anything - including opinions about brands, services, and products</li><li>Social networks can be an extremely efficient communication channel and a way to involve consumers in creating the brand</li><li>Companies that embrace new media and consumer-controlled communication will flourish; those that don't ignore this trend at their peril (of becoming irrelevant)</li></ul>DaRightRevhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02721848949501389351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30645780.post-1152396948167784662006-07-08T15:09:00.000-07:002006-07-08T15:15:48.180-07:00<strong><span style="font-size:130%;">The Tipping Point</span></strong><br /><br /><a href="http://gladwell.typepad.com/gladwellcom/">http://gladwell.typepad.com/gladwellcom/</a><br /><br />So I am sure that lots of you already know the power of <em>The Tipping Point</em> by Malcolm Gladwell, but I just finished it and, DAMN, is this an important book.<br /><br />If you dig psychology, and want to get a great rush, read this book!<br /><br />The power of Word of Mouth is becoming truly evident in marketing and advertising. MySpace and Facebook and other social networking sites are going to be the only channels that matter very soon.<br /><br />Tip of the cap to the references to Albert Bandura and Bibb Latane' in the book - two really influential social psychologists.<br /><br />And if you don't know what the Fundemental Attribution Error is, then don't complain about relationships until you do the homework, bucko. The bottom line: human nature is not simple, not at all.DaRightRevhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02721848949501389351noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30645780.post-1152358750852262552006-07-08T04:26:00.000-07:002006-07-08T04:40:12.133-07:00<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2143/3291/1600/IMG_0034.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" height="188" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2143/3291/320/IMG_0034.jpg" width="229" border="0" /></a><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">Self Awareness and Self Actualization</span></strong><br /><br />I had an interesting conversation with friend Steve regarding prerequisites for making choices about our lives. What is required to make a healthy choice about something that might be potentially unhealthy, like drinking alcohol or using drugs or having sex with someone for the first time?<br /><p>As usual, Steve is thoughful and cogent. He suggested that it requires the ability to be self aware (how am I handling this? Is this causing me pain? Is it causing others pain?) and at least some understanding of what it means to be self actualized. </p><p>The latter is important. Although most of us aren't self actualized, if we do not understand the concept of self as independent and whole, it can be dangerous to use substances that cause great emotional or physical pleasure, because we may turn control over to that substance (or person associated with it).</p><p>Before experimenting with some of the "dynamite" laying around in our lives, it seems best to make sure that you know what makes you good and whole. If you start off that way (good and whole), then anything you add to the mix isn't the cause of it, and therefore you can control it.</p><p>Thanks, Steve, for the conversation and insight.</p>DaRightRevhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02721848949501389351noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30645780.post-1152120363755796212006-07-05T08:50:00.000-07:002006-07-07T05:53:16.113-07:00<div align="left"><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:130%;"><strong>On Crises of Middle Life</strong></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">I am feeling a strong ennui in my life. Each day seems a bit redundant, even pointless at times. I get up, go to work, solve problems, handle crises, and I am not sure what, if anything, it means. I talked with my friend and fellow psychologist Steve and he reminded me of something we learned many years ago in our graduate studies.</span></div><p><span style="font-family:Arial;">Erik Erikson, a German development psychologist and psychoanalyst, created the Stages of Psychosocial Development. Similar in structure to Freud's Stages of Psychosexual Development, Erikson looked beyond adolescence to the whole human developmental life span. Maybe there was something to learn here.</span> </p><p><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2143/3291/1600/Erikson.1.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" height="128" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2143/3291/320/Erikson.1.jpg" width="79" border="0" /></a><br /></p><span style="font-family:Arial;"></span><p align="left"></p><p align="left"><span style="font-family:arial;"><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2143/3291/1600/Erikson.1.jpg"></a></span></p><p align="left"><span style="font-family:arial;"><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2143/3291/1600/Erikson.1.jpg"></a></span></p><p align="left"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"><strong>Erik Erikson</strong></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">Erikson postulated eight stages of psychosocial development. Each is described as an Ego conflict that must be resolved. In mid-life, Erikson thought the primary conflict was Generavity vs. Stagnation.</span></p><p align="left"><span style="font-family:Arial;">This stage starts when you are in your late 20's and extends throughout your middle life (nowadays, often defined as 60 or 65). It is your productive years, and those who resolve their Ego conflict in the direction of Generavity do so by raising children, contributing to a productive work life, and taking part in community activities. Other activities that support Generavity include mentoring, teaching, writing, social activism, creative artistic expression or anything that satisfies the need to be needed.</span></p><p align="left"><span style="font-family:arial;">However, if you don't resolve towards the Generavity pole, and instead slip into Stagnation, your life is characterized by a slide into self absorption, manifested by rejecting others and not really caring for anyone else. That seems to be the core: if you resolve your conflict towards Generavity, you create the ability to care within you - care about others, care about the planet, care about justice, care about truth and beauty - just the ability to give a damn.</span></p><p align="left"><span style="font-family:arial;">Later psychologists have warned that a headlong rush into Generavity can lead to overextension (someone who is so busy they have no time for themselves). I don't know how I managed it, but I seem to be both overextended and stagnant at the same time. I find myself pumping innumerable hours into work, but I don't get any satisfaction from it, nor do I feel needed. I feel like a cog in a machine, to cliche' it.</span></p><p align="left"><span style="font-family:arial;">Lately, I have found myself exhibiting signs of self absorption. I am more withdrawn from those around me, and I have turned to more hedonistic pleasures (drinking, gambling) to try and fill in some space within me. I think this is dangerous, and highlights the difference between being productive as defined by the GNP and being productive as good ol' Erik might have meant it.</span></p><p align="left"><span style="font-family:arial;">What to do? I started a blog. Good thought starters are hard to come by, and I hope to toss some out. And I think I will look for a way to teach. I used to teach formally (college professor) and I have spent a good deal of my working life teaching informally. I have a granddaughter on the way, a built in reason to care and share.</span></p><p align="left"><span style="font-family:arial;">Any thoughts on this subject are most welcomed.</span></p>DaRightRevhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02721848949501389351noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30645780.post-1152034216015866662006-07-04T12:26:00.000-07:002006-07-04T10:30:16.033-07:00<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2143/3291/1600/FB4Man&GreenVWvan2.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/2143/3291/320/FB4Man%26GreenVWvan2.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><p><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>Road Trip</strong></span></p><p>The iconic representation of a generation caught between "On the Road" and "On Golden Pond."</p><p>The Road Trip is an event that never fails to live up to the hype. It is reinforced by the strong draw of novelty, seeing things you never thought you would. It could be the Grand Canyon, or the father of two of your best friends that you didn't know were related, or a deep woods woman serving BBQ out of a roadside shack, but the road trip always shows you something unexpected.</p><p>The road trip maintains its allure through the support of the Out of Town phenomenon. When you are on the road, you are whatever you want to be. There is no reference point. You are just a stranger in a strange land, just an ephemeral spirit passing through. You might sit down to a chicken fried steak dinner in a small town in Iowa, and strike up a conversation with the waitress, and find out she is 20 and the daughter of the owners and when you pay, she says, "Where are you going? Can I come along?" And as you drive off in twilight, headed back to a life that disappeared for a weekend, you wonder "What if?"</p><p>As you drive all night, hurtling towards a known but not yet understood destination, maybe you find yourself in New Orleans at 6 a.m. Maybe you want beignets and coffee, or maybe you want a drink. And maybe you find a bar open in the French Quarter with a three-legged dog and a sign behind that bar that reads, "You bartender is . . . Pamela, John, Willy, Amelia . . . and as you order a Bloody Mary and lean in between the regulars downing gin at 6 a.m., you ask, smart-assing it, "Which one are you?" The bartender is everything about the place, eveything that is <em>there</em>. And you are not; you are everything that is different and anticipatory and disruptive. "Which one do you want me to be?" and you collapse in shock and admiration, because that is what you needed to hear!</p><p>The road trip distracts you because it does not require you to make meaning of anything that happens. You may step back from the requirement to justify your existence, and instead allow the world you drop in on to be what it is, and you watch it like a movie, involved but not integral. You have no meaning in the world where you find yourself on a road trip. All your meaning is located elsewhere. When you travel, you slip the bonds of personal definition and become just an object in another person's existential angst. </p><p>Whether you catalyze the action (Dean Moriarty) or simply observe the flow (Sal Paradise), the road beckons.</p>DaRightRevhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02721848949501389351noreply@blogger.com0