ThingsPondered

(Warning: Not for the weak-stomached or faint of heart.)

In late winter 2003, the United States of America had a President named George W. Bush.  He was, at that time, exploiting the 9/11 attack on our country in order to promote war on Iraq.  This war-making would be very beneficial to his and his friends’ financial interests and, he hoped, to his political career.  A rather weak-willed citizenry followed him like the proverbial drove of dumb sheep.

It was my blessing (or curse) to see then that this would be another Vietnam-like fiasco and waste of lives.  Thus, I participated in a march for peace (also known as anti-war) in the nation’s capitol.  This was on the Ides of March, 2003.  A month later, the USA entered the protested war. 

For the sake of historians who relish primary sources, I would like to publicly report the text on signs of my fellow marchers.  A thorough knowledge of the players, allies, scapegoats, and the nation’s mood and contemporary pop culture will be needed to understand some of the messages. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

How did our oil get under their sand?

Read my apoca-lips.

Dad, I need money for gas.  Can I start a war?

Chiracq for American president.

Merci, France!  Danke, Deurschland!

Empty warheads in White House.

W stands for wrong.

The Pope, France, Germany, and Daddy can’t all be wrong.

Make love on a rock.

Drunken draft dodger drives country into ditch.

Bush: war-whore.  Whose missile is bigger?  (This accompanied by racy cartoon drawing with a missile replacing a male anatomical feature.)

(A sign carried by a young woman:  ) 

The only BUSH I trust is my own.

We know Saddam has the weapons because we have the receipts.

Support our troops:  Bring them home!

Tea for peace delegates                                    $325

Conference room                                            $1,80

Hotel rooms                                                     $3,445

           PEACE                                                   PRICELESS!         

I miss sex in the White House.

Who would Jesus bomb?

I’m in shock but not in awe.

Frodo has lost.  Bush has the ring.

No child left behind really means send them to Iraq.

(On an 8-year-old boy’s T-shirt:  ) 

Am I collateral damage?

A sandwich-board sign on a jack Russell terrier…

(One side) Little Dog for Peace.

(Other side) He’s not my President!

Now, in 2009, many more people agree with the marchers.  A bit late, I say.  Hopefully, we will finally remember history so as to avoid being condemned to repeat it.

With much irony:  Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori. *

Maren E. Morgan-Thomson

·         *It is sweet and fitting to die for one’s country.

All this hullabaloo over dead Michael Jackson!  I think there is a clash between reality versus “hero-fication” of the artist.   The USA is feeling the need for a hero right now, and posthumous production insures that the object of worship won’t do anything embarrassing or unworthy of the honor.

Michael contributed to the pop music scene.  He had some good tunes.  And, yes, he composed or contributed to the composition of some of them.  His team produced some good music videos.  And, yes again, Michael actively contributed to the creative process for some.

Michael’s personal life is rather well-known.  He was not perfect.  And, his life was darker than a “run of the mill not-perfect.”  Some would say he was dangerously mentally ill: especially his attitude towards children.

When honoring someone for career achievement, should personal life have a bearing?  You decide.

In my book, whether or not personal life is considered, Michael Jackson was not so exemplary or artistically creative to deserve the huge accolades some are bestowing.  MANY other musicians and performers are more worthy of honor.

An eastern suburb of Reading, PA has joined the local communities sponsoring farmers’ markets.  As I did not think it would be operating on the 4th of July, I wandered over the next Saturday to see if it, indeed, exists.  Yes, Virginia, there is an outdoor farm market in Exeter Township!

On the approach towards the parking lot of Boscov’s, a retailer renowned for civic-minded activities, I spied five tent tops in a far corner.  These were the little ten by ten feet jobs that families use at soccer games or the beach.  In addition, there were two folding tables without covering and one food vendor with the classic beach umbrella arrangement over the cart.

This modest start is exactly how the West Reading market began.  It is almost as if a few brave vendors must test the waters, to the benefit of others who will jump in once the consumer interest has been proven.   Happily, several of the tents offered exactly what I wanted and expected: locally grown produce.  One stand had cabbages larger than bowling balls and a commodity new to me - golden beets.  Others had garden plants or homemade catsup and preserves.  I found the preserves to be costly.  Am I willing to pay $6 for a large jar of homemade jam?   I think it will need to be one of my favorite fruits for that sort of sum to leave my wallet. The classic hot dog vendor - well, what can be said, other than seize the opportunity to feed the masses of shoppers.

I was a little disappointed to see that one of the tables was for some sort of eco-vitamin-snake oil-wonder drink.  That does not match the spirit of the endeavor, in my humble opinion.   Nonetheless, if you live nearby and need some fresh produce for the weekend, this market is worth a look.

I live in a strange place: Berks County in southeastern Pennsylvania.  Why strange?  Strange because it has changed so rapidly over the last 25 years.  When I first regularly spent time here starting in the 1970’s, it consisted of a city (county seat) at its center and then a few villages sprinkled throughout the rest of its diamond-shaped boundary ( yes – this is the county of John Updike’s Rabbit series.)  Everything else was farmland.  Active farmland.

This agrarian county was so peaceful and wholesome that it was pretty BORING to the high school youth, who frequently moved away the first chance they got.  But then they somehow wandered back to raise their families.  It was very common to drive past miles and miles of cornfields to get to anywhere.  But things started changing, slowly, and initially on a small scale.

Who should I blame, if blame there must be?  Commercial lenders?  Definitely yes.  Those &*^$% money-grubbers kept supporting new strip malls or shopping centers when good commercial properties stood vacant.  The Chamber of Commerce?  Probably.  I served on a committee in the Chamber and could see that its vision of “good” or “progress” was and is to transform Berks County into a clone of King of Prussia, an upscale expensive highway-riddled fast-paced, did I say expensive?, sophisticated area in suburban Philadelphia.  The Chamber could not see the goodness that Berks County had, and so committed itself to throwing the baby out with the bathwater.  The then-and-future residents?  Yes.  They lusted after the lifestyle of the afore-mentioned Philadelphia suburbs.

Twenty-five years ago, one did not use the word “suburbs” for Berks County.  There was big-city Reading, and then there were Leesport and Kutztown and Mohnton and Shillington and Mt. Penn and Bernville and Birdsboro and Hamburg and Morgantown.  Each was separated from the other by fields and farms.  Manure was a springtime fragrance along our 2-lane roads.  However since that time, real estate developers (I forgot to also apportion blame to them) have persuaded families to transform their farms into housing tracts.  We now have the vinyl siding suburban houses and the *%^#^& townhouse/condo horror zones.  We now use the word “suburbs.”

We now have barely any farmland.  Instead, there are more malls, and parking lots.  There are national chain stores instead of the independent locally-owned bookstore, hardware store and fabric shops.  There are franchises of every fast- and medium-fast food chains.  And the highways – bleccch!  Lots of macadam covers former vegetation.  Fields and woods are becoming scarce.

Curiously, there is a new trendy activity that Berks County communities are racing to create.  Guess what?  They want Famers’ Markets!  We have always had a few small indoor halls which open one to three days per week for farmers and vendors to sell.  But to be truly au courant, a community must have an open air market with local, and even organic, produce.  Sort of like the roadside stands we used to have?  Strange, this Berks County.

The four-county area near Boyertown has gained a sought-after artisan typically found only in the largest of metropolitan areas. Djembe builders and repair masters are a rare breed in central Pennsylvania.  Fortunately, we now have one!  A hearty welcome extends to Doug Libby, proprietor of Alive Drumming, with locations at Zern’s Farmers Market, Gilbertsville, and South Jersey.

The djembe is a hand-drum  - not one of the drums seen in rock bands. Originating from West Africa, it is made from a tree trunk carved into modified hourglass shape.  Traditionally, the drum head is made of goatskin.  With the increased appreciation of world music, the djembe’s popularity in the United States has steadily increased over the last twenty years and is now frequently the staple instrument played in drum circles.

Doug glows describing what he likes about djembes.  “Every time I play, especially in our drum circles, I feel so cleansed from daily stresses, almost like a spiritual renewing of some sort…I have learned that the djembe is a very powerful instrument.  Djembes are used in healing ceremonies, they are used for calling spirits within the spiritual world that we are surrounded by, and are used just to have fun.”  Doug is also drawn to the spiritual nature of the djembe drum. “The djembe itself is known to carry three spirits: the spirit of the tree that it is carved from, the spirit of the goat that is used for the head of the drum, and the spirit of the drum maker.” 

Doug first became interested in djembes about seven years ago.  Like many Americans, he really didn’t know much about them.  However, while attending The Swagg’s Greatful Dead Tribute concert in Kansas City, he witnessed his first drum circle.  “I was in awe and really amazed by the trancing beats that were being played.  It was at this show I bought my first djembe from a drum vendor.  My first djembe was a mini baby djembe - a  perfect size for a beginner’s drum.”

After that concert in Kansas City, Doug and a group of friends in Missouri started their own drum circle every Saturday night.  “We called it ‘another Saturday night’ after a well known Grateful Dead song.  At first we didn’t have too many hand percussion instruments.  One of my best friends Paul would actually play on pots and pans … They sounded awesome.  We eventually purchased a Conga set, and some more djembes.” 

Doug’s musical journey continued while on active duty with the Navy.  When he transferred to the Willow Grove Navy Air Base, he wanted to get involved with the drum scene in the Philadelphia area.  “But just playing wasn’t enough for me.  I had a deep interest in building these sacred instruments,” Doug explains.  He found Conrad, a drum builder, online and began email correspondence.  After attending a workshop with this Philadelphia area builder on how to rehead djembes, they slowly built a friendship.  Doug began an unpaid apprenticeship working for Conrad in his shop trying to learn as much as he could. 

Doug relates, Conrad’s work is “so amazing.   My apprenticeship lasted on and off for about a year. I knew my apprenticeship was over when he started to offer money to work for him.  It was such an awesome moment when that time came.”  Through this spiritual skill path, Doug has left the Navy, opened his own drum shop, and can devote time to his wife and baby boy.

It is impressive that Doug incorporates spirit and energy practices in building a drum.  Doug shares, “I like to smudge each step with White Sage to cast any bad energies from the drum and draw in good energies resulting in a pure drum.  That gives out positive energies each time it is played which are spread to others.” 

Alive Drumming is located at Stand # 4 at Zern’s Farmers Market on Route

73 near the intersection with Route 100.  The email address is douglas_m_libby@yahoo.com.  It is well worth a visit to this shop.

Snow is an act of nature, an act of God.   However, people who do not directly profit from it whine and moan.  The radio and television announcers warn us to leave early for work because it is going to take longer.  Casual conversations at stores or mailboxes usually center on the negative features of God’s chilly white gift.  Municipalities are either praised or castigated on their road crews’ performance in “disappearing” the snow.  Snow gets dumped on left and right.

Westerners fight the natural.  We are SO wrapped up in control.  We want control and we want, often, to speed up nature.  However, there is another way to react.   In the tradition of the Tao philosophies, why don’t we embrace snow instead of fighting it?

For a chunk of my life, I worked in American public schools.  Public education seems to be one of the few operations that shut down quickly at the least threat of danger to its participants.  I assert that in doing this, they are one of the few sane and sensible institutions.  If conditions are dangerous, shouldn’t EVERYBODY go home?  Is it really going to matter if that report is delayed by two days or the garment isn’t finished today?

Yes, yes, we can think of some deleterious effects of delay – food spoilage, opportunities lost, and so on.  However, other than a few essential services such as emergency health care and fire- and crime-fighting,  I say that the world should accept a snow-induced work stoppage, embrace it, and savor it.   

I have been to Richmond a few times in my life: several times decades ago and most recently for a job fair months ago.  I have made a conscious decision to move to central Virginia, despite lack of family, employment or buddies there (yet.)  Why, one might ask?

I could suggest all sorts of illogical reasons. For one, Richmond is the home of DrumBum – a totally cool online percussion supplies business.  I visited its offices during my job fair trip.  (I would love to win one of the free T-shirts, hint hint —   ) Or, I could say that the name “Parham” has mystical attraction for me.  Also, Virginia is a commonwealth, as is my current state.

Here are some of the more motivating reasons:  Richmond is within driving distance to my family and friends who are largely in PA, NY, and east coast states.  It is closer to the ocean than my current home.   I do not need to live on the oceanfront, but I surely would like to get to it more frequently than I now do.  According to city-data , Richmond has more days of sunshine than does my current home.  As I have Seasonal Affective Disorder, I am suffering where I live now in “below-average-land.”  Furthermore, the city of Richmond has many colleges and universities – I want to be near people with intellectual curiosity and who may be liberal-minded.  In fact, I am told that the Fan district is similar to a New York City SoHo and Greenwich Village.  WooHoo!   Additionally, I want to be near a city large enough to support live theatre and live classical music performances.  I think Richmond fills the bill there.  Also, I am counting on many more job opportunities in a large city. 

Thus, I have focused on Richmond as the answer to my needs.  Future employers, what can I offer you?

the world who you are: 

just start talking.

Failure to Conjugate Third Person Singular

                    a/k/a

        Don’t say Don’t with he

Santa Maria, Madre de Dios!  There are many languages more

complicated

(MUCH more complicated)

than English. 

We are talking PRESENT tense – also not a huge

challenge.  In English, generally we use the same exact verb (action word

for you Wal-Mart devotees) with five of the six types of people groups. 

The is action word identical for: I, you –singular, we, you-plural, and

they.  Therefore, we need only learn one other form of the verb to

complete our vocabulary.  Why, then, do you insist on declaring to the

world that you are happily locked into the lower class?  

It seems to be a badge of honor to talk like a country-western song.  I

know you are not stupid people.  You have many skills, talents, and

bodies of knowledge.  You can run rings around so many of us with your

expertise in myriads of arenas. Yet, you persist in trashing English when

the solution is SO SIMPLE.  There is even a pattern:  often all that is

required is adding an “s” or an “es” to the verb used for the five other

pronouns.

Examples:  I do, you do, He does.

Therefore, when the word “not” is part of the sentence, we have: I don’t,

you don’t, he doesn’t.

Try it.  It is easy, truly.

I had the privilege to earn a graduate degree from Lehigh University in 1995.  The experience was so concurrently difficult and satisfying that it holds a place on my list of the top five events in my life.  As far as I am concerned, every dollar I gave Lehigh returned more than that in value.  To reiterate, it was an incredible learning experience.

When I attended Lehigh, the university seal was a football shape with a Latin motto.  As the following official webpage (http://www3.lehigh.edu/about/past/luseal.asp ) describes, it included “a sun over a book on which a heart is superimposed. These fit nicely with the university motto, taken from Francis Bacon, which surround them: ‘Homo minister et interpres naturae.’ Loosely translated, the motto means, ’Man, the servant and interpreter of nature.’ “  Also within the seal were the words “Lehigh University” and “Founded by Asa Packer 1865.”  The sun emitted copious rays of light and the football was surrounded by detailed edging.  Everything “Lehigh” had this seal: sweatshirts, lampshades, notebook covers, and the entire gamut of college bookstore products.  I own a short-sleeved T-shirt with this seal.  It is the emblem of my Lehigh.

However, in 1997 the University adopted a logo to serve as an additional visual emblem of the school.  Purportedly, it reproduces more easily in electronic media, thus meets a need.  However, I fear something more serious is afoot.  Just as fast food restaurants must continually research the pulse of consumers and adjust products and the presentations of those products, institutions of higher education are vendors which must adapt to the potential student market.  In its quest to recruit students, I fear that Lehigh University is abandoning appropriate tradition by employing a simplified graphic: a Happy Meal version of the elegant and historic seal.

Look through the university website.  Is the seal anywhere?  It is only on the above-mentioned link about history.  No longer are clothing, mugs, and memorabilia festooned with the pre-1997 seal, the only visual emblem at the time.  It has vanished.  As in the novel Fahrenheit 451, in which a fireman becomes someone who burns books rather than someone who extinguishes fires, history is being re-written.  Supposedly, the original seal will continue to be used on diplomas and important documents.  However, I ask why would a student who has known only the logo throughout his Lehigh career want the seal on his diploma? 

I am not a marketing expert.  If the pundits feel that they can reach today’s eligible prospects only through use of a trendy logo, then so be it.  However, when an august research university agrees to reduce ALL of its visual symbols to something akin to a Nike ™ swoosh (which I imagine will need to changed frequently to follow the market), then someone has gotten it very wrong.

I say use the simple logo on the web pages and a few recruiting pamphlets, but also include the Lehigh University seal.  Continue to proudly employ the seal on banners, stationery, university publications and documents.  In the bookstore, offer garments and products with choices in both designs.  Coca-Cola admitted its error when it tried to replace traditional Coke with a new version.  Likewise, Lehigh University must offer the new and classic versions of the seal-logo in documents, clothing and merchandise.  It is bad enough to lose the team name of Engineers to the Mountain Hawk, but to lose the “football and Latin” seal is too much to bear.

If you would like to make your thoughts known to the university, the appropriate contact is:  Fred McGrail, Vice President for Communications, fjm208@Lehigh.edu.

Why does it need to be so late on the east coast?  Can’t our fellow Americans in the Pacific Time Zone watch a game that starts at 2:00 PM their time?  I do not see obstacles to that.  If that could happen, then the east coast people will be watching starting at 5:00 PM their time – certainly an appropriate time for scarfing down all the wings, pizza, beer, chips, and so forth.  As for the Californians, they can take a turn for a few decades of “needing” (?) to eat Superbowl foods at a time they might not normally eat in the middle of their afternoon.  The Superbowl commercials will be just as funny.

The end of January/ beginning of February is cold and dark, and possibly full of bad weather conditions,  for half of the east coast at the traditional Superbowl starting time.  If party guests are drinking spirits, then they possibly have the alcohol to process before they can head home,.  Late, late, late night for adults and some children.  On a school night.  On a work night. 

It’s time for a change.