Thursday, November 12, 2009

Theme Thursday Telephone

This is a reprise of a post originally published earlier this year, 3/28/09. 


I posted a worthwhile 4 minute segment from Conan O'Brien's recent show with the comedian, Louis CK, on my other blog Women of a Certain Age. It's his take on the amazing technological advances for which we should be thankful and the silly sense of entitlement people have about them. One of the first things he discusses is telephones vs cells. He describes what it was like when you had to use a rotary phone and your friend had zeros in the number; the all the way around the dial rotary movement. It got me to thinking about my telephone numbers growing up.

My parents' home phone was Diamond 04266. You dialed DI 04266. We lived in the San Fernando Valley, an LA suburb. Ma Bell, known as Bell Telephone, was the provider. Western Electric was the manufacturer. If your phone broke or didn't work, Bell came out and fixed it for free! FOR FREE!!!! Their only rival was General Telephone. They were always the underdog, the phone company that sucked. They had a reputation for unreliability. You did not want to be on the General Telephone side of the Valley.

Over the twenty-two years my folks lived in our home, their phone number evolved only slightly. At some point, the phone company dropped the alphabetical letters, going numerical.  Ours became 340-4266 in the 213 area code. This is now the 818 area code. When I was 14, my parents bought me a Princess phone. They simply wanted the use of their home phone back. I was the envy of my friends. I had my own number, 340-4968. So, we had zeros in our numbers. And those zeros are what made the synapses in my brain write this post.

Do you remember your home phone number growing up? Or any of your old numbers? We had so few to remember back then. Now, we just store them and hit the receiver's name. But, it was kinda cool to have those old numbers and big blocky rotary phones. Our kitchen phone was dark red. My parents' bedroom phone was avocado green. My Princess phone was white. Was I a princess? Yeah. For a couple of years, I was.


I was Briar Rose, aka Sleeping Beauty, remember?

Wednesday, November 11, 2009

Veteran's Day Salute



 Old Glory by Cole Scott

As the daughter of a WWII  USAF Lt. Col and the cousin of a USAF Master Sgt. and the mother of a son with friends in Special Ops and the US Coast Guard, as a person who is opposed to the wars in which we are presently engaged but who is supportive of all those who fight for our country, I salute the men and women, past and present, of the United States Armed Forces.

Monday, November 9, 2009

Mad Men Season Finale


Cast of "Mad Men"
I am a "Mad Men" devotee.  I watch it every week, without fail;  have since the beginning.  If I can't watch it, I record and watch it later.  Sometimes I'll even watch the new show and it's encore (back-to-back) to better understand the ins and outs of the characters.  There are many layers in these shows;  if I'm concentrating too much on one plot line, I may become confused by another.  I haven't had this much fun since "West Wing" my all time favorite series television.

I was initially drawn to "Mad Men" for several reasons:
  1. I have been in advertising for 30+ years.
  2. My father wore a fedora relentlessly. He was in advertising in Chicago, Canada & LA.
  3. Takes place in the Sixties, my childhood.
From the get go, I was pretty much hooked.  I had problems with the one-dimensional aspects of many of the characters and the stiff unyielding, pathological behaviour of Don Draper and his icy wife Betty.


Betty and Don Draper
 
But over the past few seasons, the writers have sought to flesh out the characters, explain some of their behaviours and make them more human, more likable and identifiable.

Last night's season finale tied up a number of loose ends while moving forward with new plots, new options and a wonderful promise for the next season.  For a well-written review, go here.


Joan Holloway
I am super happy to see Joan Holloway back.  She's way too smart for her husband and the rest of the "boys" in the agency.  It will be interesting to see where they take her.   She's been under-utilized this season and she was always too good to be Roger Sterling's plaything.  She's a dramatic foil to Betty Draper's picture perfect but deeply unhappy suburbanite and Peggy Olson's passive aggressive not-quite-but- almost-feminist.

Last night's show was one surprise after another, the biggest (in my opinion) being the agency principals risking their way out of a planned scenario orchestrated by their British owners who've surrepetitiously sold the agency to one of Madison Avenue's most fabled firms, McCann Ericson.  I wonder what the folk at McCann think of that angle?


Bertram Cooper and Roger Sterling

One of my favorite aspects to the show are the costumes and set decor. The shows' creator, Matthew Weiner, is reported perfectionist when it comes to details.  For those of us who grew up in the Fifties and Sixties, it's a true blast from the past.  The costumes are beautiful too.  I love to see the fitted bodices over flowing skirts of billowing fabric, the sheaths, the gloves, the hats.


Betty Draper 
 
I just wish the show were on air for a longer season. I've no idea why the producers keep it so short.  I
thought it began as a mid season replacement for something else (can't remember what) but now, it's so wildly popular, one wonders at the limited amount of production.  Perhaps that is all about wanting what we cannot have?  Kinda like in the show...

all photos by Frank Ockenfels 3 from amctv.com

Thursday, November 5, 2009

Theme Thursday Castle



I have decided to channel my inner Cinderella, Briar Rose and Snow White to reflect on the theme, castle.

As do most young girls, I lived in a fantasy world of my own creation.  Those were the days before home movie rentals, computers, cell phones, etc. and my world derived from the books I read and the movies I went to see.  As such, I was influenced mightily by Disney films, identifying primarily with the put-upon princesses hidden away from the public for reasons that vary according to each story.

My favorite princess will always be Briar Rose, of "Sleeping Beauty" fame.  I loved her beuatiful long hair, her animal friends, her cozy thatched cottage in the woods, her fairy godmothers and her Handsome Prince.  I had a little cooking stove in my room.  It was electric with a heated oven.  I would dress in an apron, take a wicker basket and go out to the front yard where Mother's fifty red rose bushes lined our circular drive to collect rose petals, pretending they were berries.  I'd bring them in the house, dry them in the oven and serve them to my dolls...I mean, godmothers.  I did this over and over, all the while playing the movie soundtrack on my tiny 33 1/3 LP portable, powder blue record player.  I had a "Sleeping Beauty" board with stick on characters I'd move from one room of the castle to another.  The board itself was a beautiful reproduction lifted from the castle interiors by the Disney artists.  It was fantasy itself because you used the little stick on pieces to create your own story.  I loved communing with the animals in the forest.  I was often in the forest (of my mind as I lived in the suburbs) talking to the birds, squirrels, racoons and so forth.  I could do this with our chickens and our dog.  We had five hens and a rooster and one doggie.  It was sweet!

As for the castle, again, all in my mind.  My greatest concern was the chamber where I'd lie until "love's first kiss" rescued me from a deathless sleep.  It was all about draping...the chamber draping, that is.  Sleeping Beauty and Snow White lay still on a raised bed, the folds of their gowns trailing over the sides and down the bedside, beautifully draped.  When the prince would kiss them, their eyes would flutter and they'd awaken to the most handsome man ever, the love of their life, and off they'd go to live "happily ever after" in a castle.

That was my fantasy too!  I'd better remind my husband.  He still has time to make this up to me.  LOL!!!

Happy TT.

Tuesday, November 3, 2009

Back in the Fold

Son #2 surprised us last night by coming home two days early from Europe.  I was restless and unable to sleep, having stayed up til Midnight watching the World Series.  I heard a car in the driveway at 1AM and wondered who the heck was driving up my dark road into my back yard in the middle of the night for cryin' out loud?

I went to the window, looked down on the back yard, saw shapes in the moonlight (full moon last night), one with a backpack.  It still didn't register.  I went downstairs, to the back door and opened it and there he stood, big as life, skinny as all get out, with a scraggly but somehow becoming beard and a shit eatin' grin.

"Hello Mother!"

I was enfolded in his arms and he walked through the front door, newly changed from what sounds to be a fascinating trip. 

My son is home, safe and sound.  He has changed; he has grown.   I can't wait to hear the stories pour forth over the next few days.  More to come...

Thursday, October 29, 2009

Theme Thursday Halloween

Nowadays, Halloween seems to be more about grownups, their parties and elaborate costumes. But for me, it will always be about my children.


circa 1989
When they were 1 & 2, we dressed them in pirate pajamas, smudged their faces with beards & moutaches and carried them door to door for their first "experience".  They lasted about 45 minutes.  It was the beginning of many happy years to come.



The following year, the pumpkin carving began.  Their father took them to pick out the pumpkins, then sat them on the ground to watch as he carved. 


circa 1990
They were charmed, mystified and delighted all at the same time.



After that, they always had their own pumpkin on which to draw a scary face.  They learned to dig out the seeds, saving them to dry in the oven and, later, feed to the birds.

As they grew, they learned to carve and it was the highlight of the season, after the candy collection of course!  I  decorated the entrance to our home each year using the home made bats, witches, ghosties and black cats cut out of construction paper at school.  I made spider webs of black string which hung from the porch overhang and brushed children's faces.  We had the white fuzzy webs, ghost lights on a string, trees filled with lights and brown paper bags of sand, each with a candle to light the driveway. Carved pumpkins filled our porch.  We played a selection of scary music on the stereo heard up the driveway and into the street.  We lived on a cul de sac in southern California and Halloween was generally warm allowing us to leave the front door open, the electric lights off with only the flicker of candlelight to show the way.

The main event was taking the boys trick or treating.  We'd visit the homes of our neighborhood and a few beyond.  So many people decorated and dressed up for the kids, it was always a surprise and a treat.  We'd take our dog on a leash and the boys' two best friends, a brother and sister, little towheads and cute as buttons.  Dressing the boys was my husbands's task and he approached it with artistry and vigor.  One year he painted the face of one son as a skeleton and the other was a vampire and they were dressed accordingly.  Another year, earlier, they went as Oscar the Grouch and a duck!

So another Halloween approaches and my boys are grown and away.  But my memories are sweet and my heart is full and I wish everyone the kind of Halloween my husband, sons and I were so lucky to enjoy.


Click here for a cute Halloween message from Jacqui Lawson.

Friday, October 23, 2009

To Bryan

Bryan, my wonderful first born son, went to see Bob Dylan in concert for the first time Tuesday night and he was blown away.  He excitedly called his father the next evening to tell him it was...

"...one of the best experiences of  my life" and he "couldn't believe he (Dylan) was real."

He went, in part, because of his father's undying admiration for Dylan.  He wasn't sure if he'd like the music or his singing but came away with an appreciation for all, particularly his musicianship.  He told my husband

"I really wished you were there but I felt like you really were there through me."  My husband was thrilled.

 Bryan is a self taught guitarist and he's very good.  He bought a second hand guitar his senior year in high school and began to learn via computer programs on the internet.  By graduation, he was so into it, we bought him a week's stay at an acoustic music camp on Lake Winnepesaukee where he ate, slept and learned the ropes from hundreds of devoted bluegrass musicians from around the world. 

Since then, he has taught himself electric guitar and now plays in a group in the city where he lives and goes to college.  He sometimes performs solo, singing and accompanying himself on his acoustic guitar.  When my father died two years ago, he left his harmonicas to my sons.  Bryan began teaching himself harmonica listening to Dylan and Stevie Wonder.  He made a harmonica holder out of a coat hangar, then broke down and bought a professional one.

My husband and I have surrounded the boys with music, mostly the rock n' roll we grew up with.  They  appreciate music from our era and have an eclectic selection on their ipods.  I am proud of my son's courage to get up there and perform.  Takes guts and a certain amount of confidence which I certainly don't have! 

His favorite song from the live concert the other night, "To Ramona".

Thursday, October 22, 2009

Theme Thursday: Traffic

Peak Traffic on the 405  Santa Monica Fwy in LA  (Dwell Magazine 6-04-09)

As I sit here watching the Los Angeles Dodgers fold up like a suitcase against the Phillies during Game 5 of the NLCS, I'm thinkin',

  "Well crap!  I was born and raised in LA.  What don't I know about traffic?"

I spent many happy and unhappy hours on the freeways of Los Angeles, zooming along in the Sixties when the city was relatively uncrowded and crawling along in the Seventies as I drove from my first married domicile in Woodland Hills to a job on Wilshire Blvd.  It was only 24 miles but it was a guaranteed hour in the morning and 1 1/2 hours home,  if I was lucky.  We relied on the big AM radio stations to give us the freeway updates so we could try and go the fastest route, be it surface streets, through the hills, or even along Pacific Coast Hwy known as PCH to the locals.

During my senior year in high school and my first two years in college, I worked for my father during summer break.   Our family home was also in Woodland Hills.  His office was on Hollywood & Vine.  He taught me the ins and outs of driving the freeways, often keeping to the slow lane because, as he explained, so many cars got off and on you could actually move more quickly.    If there was an accident alert on the radio, he'd take Ventura Blvd. into North Hollywood and pick up the freeway.  Sometimes we'd drive over Laurel or Coldwater Canyons into the West Hollywood side, then east to his office. 

Dad's office building is still there.  It's a landmark from an earlier time.  My memories are sweet.  I grew up in a magical time, in a city where everything really seemed golden.  I learned to drive in the toughest traffic city in America.  I am not always a good driver but I can negotiate in traffic and I do drive defensively.  That is the secret.  Always drive as if the other guy is going to make a mistake... not in your favor.

As the DJs might have said, once upon a time, "Time for a musical interlude from one of our favorite performers..."

Nobody does it better than JT.


This just came to me and, since no one else has it up, I'm posting. A true classic!

Sunday, October 18, 2009

Sunday Art


"Copper Pot" by Carson Pritchard

More beautiful art from my good friend, Carson Pritchard.



Thursday, October 15, 2009

TT Climate Change

Last week's TT was fun.  This is serious stuff.  I'm borrowing from an article embedded on The Political Carnival.  This covers our TT subject pretty darn well.  Take time to read, reflect and pray.

ANWR debate will heat up as caribou herds dwindle

EDITOR'S NOTE -- This is one of an occasional series of stories leading up to December's climate conference in Copenhagen, reporting on the impact, future and responses to climate change.
Click to enlarge
ON THE PORCUPINE RIVER TUNDRA, Yukon -- Here on the endlessly rolling and tussocky terrain of northwest Canada, where man has hunted caribou since the Stone Age, the vast antlered herds are fast growing thin. And it's not just here.
Across the tundra 1,000 miles to the east, Canada's Beverly herd, numbering more than 200,000 a decade ago, can barely be found today.
Halfway around the world in Siberia, the biggest aggregation of these migratory animals, of the dun-colored herds whose sweep across the Arctic's white canvas is one of nature's matchless wonders, has shrunk by hundreds of thousands in a few years.
From wildlife spectacle to wildlife mystery, the decline of the caribou -- called reindeer in the Eurasian Arctic -- has biologists searching for clues, and finding them.
They believe the insidious impact of climate change, its tipping of natural balances and disruption of feeding habits, is decimating a species that has long numbered in the millions and supported human life in Earth's most inhuman climate.
Many herds have lost more than half their number from the maximums of recent decades, a global survey finds. They "hover on the precipice of a major decline," it says.

SENSING TROUBLE

The "People of the Caribou," the Native Gwich'in of the Yukon and Alaska, were among the first to sense trouble, in the late 1990s, as their Porcupine herd dwindled. From 178,000 in 1989, the herd -- named for the river crossing its range -- is now estimated to number 100,000.
"They used to come through by the hundreds," James Firth, 56, of the Gwich'in Renewable Resources Board said as he guided two Associated Press journalists across the tundra.
Off toward distant horizons this summer afternoon, only small groups of a dozen or fewer migrating caribou could be seen grazing southward across the spongy landscape, green with a layer of grasses, mosses and lichen over the Arctic permafrost.
"I've never seen it like this before," Firth said of the sparse numbers.
More than 50 identifiable caribou herds migrate over huge wilderness tracts in a wide band circling the top of the world. They head north in the spring to ancient calving grounds, then back south through summer and fall to winter ranges closer to northern forests.
The Porcupine herd moves over a 100,000-square-mile range, calving in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge of northeast Alaska, where proposals for oil drilling have long stirred opposition from environmentalists seeking to protect the caribou.

GLOBAL WARMING EFFECTS
The global survey by researchers at the University of Alberta, published in June in the peer-reviewed journal Global Change Biology, has deepened concerns about the caribou's future.
Drawing on scores of other studies, government databases, wildlife management boards and other sources, the biologists found that 34 of 43 herds being monitored worldwide are in decline. The average falloff in numbers was 57 percent from earlier maximums, they said.
Siberia's Taimyr herd has declined from 1 million in 2000 to an estimated 750,000, as reported in the 2008 "Arctic Report Card" of the U.S. National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration.
The Taimyr is the world's largest herd, but Canada and Alaska have more caribou, and the Alberta study reported that 22 of 34 North American herds are shrinking. Data were insufficient to make a judgment on seven others.
In an interview, Liv Solveig Vors, the June report's lead author, summarized what is believed behind the caribou crash: "Climate change is changing the way they're interacting with their food, directly and indirectly."
Global warming has boosted temperatures in the Arctic twice as much as elsewhere, and Canadian researchers say the natural balance is suffering:
• Unusual freezing rains in autumn are locking lichen, the caribou's winter forage, under impenetrable ice sheets. This was the documented cause in the late 1990s of the near-extinction of the 50,000-strong Peary caribou subspecies on Canada's High Arctic islands.
• Mosquitoes, flies and insect parasites have always tormented and weakened caribou, but warmer temperatures have aggravated this summertime problem, driving the animals on crazed, debilitating runs to escape, and keeping them from foraging and fattening up for winter.
• The springtime Arctic "green-up" is occurring two weeks or more earlier. The great caribou migrations evolved over ages to catch the shrubs on the calving grounds at their freshest and most nutritious. But pregnant, migrating cows may now be arriving too late.
Vors said caribou are unlikely to adjust.
"Evolutionary changes tend to take place over longer time scales than the time scale of climate change at the moment," she said. Climatologists foresee northern temperatures rising several degrees more this century unless global greenhouse gas emissions are sharply reduced soon.

RADICAL DECLINES

Caribou herds have gone through boom-and-bust cycles historically, but were never known to decline so uniformly worldwide.
Leading Canadian specialist Don Russell, coordinator of a new global network formed to more closely monitor what's happening to the herds, said experts are focusing on "what has changed between this decline and previous declines."
"We've seen a number of areas where climate change is playing a big role, and we see some very dramatic trends," he said in an interview in Whitehorse, the Yukon territorial capital.
In neighboring Northwest Territories, the territorial government on Sept. 24 reported results of its aerial survey of the Bathurst herd: Its population has dropped to about 32,000, from 128,000 in 2006.
"The numbers are not getting better. There's no good news, no indication of recovery," J. Michael Miltenberger, the environment and natural resources minister, said by telephone from Yellowknife, the capital.
He said "there's a huge issue" with the Beverly herd, which numbered 276,000 in 1994, ranging over the Canadian tundra 1,000 miles due north of North Dakota.
"We've been flying north to south, east to west," Miltenberger said. "By our count, with the Beverly herd, they've all but disappeared."
Climate change is piling problem upon problem on the caribou, he said, including bogging them down in thawing permafrost and lengthening the wildfire season, burning up their food.
"The cumulative impact is bringing enormous pressure on the caribou," he said.
And that puts pressure on Canada's "first nations," who for at least 8,000 years have relied on the harvest of caribou meat for the winter larder, have settled along migration routes, have built their material culture around the animal -- using skin, bones and sinews for clothing, shelter, tools, thread, even their drums.
"There are probably ominous implications for communities relying on caribou," Russell said.
Such reliance is mirrored in Siberia and northern Scandinavia, where the Sami people make a hard living herding reindeer as livestock. Freezing rains there are reported to have forced Sami to buy fodder to substitute for ice-locked forage.

EASING HUNTS

Here in the timeless, silent beauty of Gwich'in country, his people may face "hard decisions," Firth acknowledged, perhaps to limit their hunt to ease the pressure. The Yukon government recently took a first step, restricting hunting to bulls, to spare reproducing cows.
"The future of the Gwich'in and the future of the caribou are the same," the Gwich'in often say. But even more may be at stake.
On this summer day above the Arctic Circle, binoculars found a group of caribou being stalked and circled by a hungry grizzly bear, a needy predator and another link in an intricate, interdependent natural web that may be unraveling, year by year and degree by degree, on the tundra.