“The best things in life … aren’t things.”
I saw this saying written on a decorative piece of wood recently.
It immediately struck me as profoundly true.
We are a society obsessed with having possessions – physical things. The late George Carlin had a funny routine about people having “stuff.” “Stuff” is just another word for “things.”
We all know we can’t take “it” with us when we go. “It” is another word for “things.”
It’s comforting to have things: a TV set; a radio; a bookcase filled with books; a digital camera.
However, things give us a skewed concept of what life is all about. Jesus told his disciples to give up their possessions and follow him. Admittedly, that’s tough to do about 2,000 years later. In more ways than one. In today’s materialistic society, a person’s worth seems to be measured by what he has, not by what he is.
But just as the ancient Chinese saying informs us that a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step, each of us must start by divesting ourselves of at least some of our material possessions. Isn’t that why ebay was created?
I realized this may sound like a radical philosophy, especially coming from a pack rat such as me, but just remember one of my favorite expressions is: “I’m like a sign. I point the way, but I don’t go there myself.”
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
A Book vs. A Review of Same
“Homer and Langley,” by E.L. Doctorow, is a very difficult book to read. The words don’t flow smoothly within the sentences and the print layout is “right justified”, which means that the end of each line is in exactly the same place, just as the beginning of each line on the left side of the page is. I find this layout difficult to read.
The subject of the book is the infamous Collyer brothers, who, until their deaths in 1947, were compulsive hoarders. Indeed, it turns out that Langley, the older of the two, died as a result of being crushed under the weight of a fallen stack of newspapers. Langley claimed that since his brother had gone blind, he needed to save the daily newspapers for him to read once he regained his sight.
The content of the book is written as if Homer, the younger, blind brother is speaking. Of course, since there are no recordings by him, this is a work of fiction, presumably based on real events of the day. While there are a few clever insights and assumptions, the pacing of the story is disjointed.
The author is a well-respected writer whose most notable work, "Ragtime," has been adapted for both the Broadway stage and the silver screen. Yet, a respected author cannot have his work judged on the basis of his reputation alone. Whether this new book is any good must be determined by the content alone. In that regard, this book does not measure up.
Contrast this with a review of the book by another well-known author, Joyce Carol Oates. Her two page review appeared in the September 7, 2009 issue of The New Yorker magazine and the words not only flow like melted butter on a stack of hot cakes, they also serve to convey the flavor of the life and times of the Collyer brothers.
But the most interesting part of the review hits home for many of us: “Few of us can imagine ourselves involved in deranged acts of violence, but we all know how newspapers and magazines can stack up, how ‘collectibles’ can accumulate. It’s not much of a stretch to imagine ourselves the hapless victims of our possessions – paralyzed by things we’re unable to sort out and discard, annihilated by our affluence, crushed by our consumerism.”
Amen, sister, amen.
The subject of the book is the infamous Collyer brothers, who, until their deaths in 1947, were compulsive hoarders. Indeed, it turns out that Langley, the older of the two, died as a result of being crushed under the weight of a fallen stack of newspapers. Langley claimed that since his brother had gone blind, he needed to save the daily newspapers for him to read once he regained his sight.
The content of the book is written as if Homer, the younger, blind brother is speaking. Of course, since there are no recordings by him, this is a work of fiction, presumably based on real events of the day. While there are a few clever insights and assumptions, the pacing of the story is disjointed.
The author is a well-respected writer whose most notable work, "Ragtime," has been adapted for both the Broadway stage and the silver screen. Yet, a respected author cannot have his work judged on the basis of his reputation alone. Whether this new book is any good must be determined by the content alone. In that regard, this book does not measure up.
Contrast this with a review of the book by another well-known author, Joyce Carol Oates. Her two page review appeared in the September 7, 2009 issue of The New Yorker magazine and the words not only flow like melted butter on a stack of hot cakes, they also serve to convey the flavor of the life and times of the Collyer brothers.
But the most interesting part of the review hits home for many of us: “Few of us can imagine ourselves involved in deranged acts of violence, but we all know how newspapers and magazines can stack up, how ‘collectibles’ can accumulate. It’s not much of a stretch to imagine ourselves the hapless victims of our possessions – paralyzed by things we’re unable to sort out and discard, annihilated by our affluence, crushed by our consumerism.”
Amen, sister, amen.
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Death takes two
Today, I heard of the passing of two people from the world of show business: Mary Travers (of Peter, Paul & Mary) and Henry Gibson (from Laugh-In, and more recently, Boston Legal).
I am a fan of Peter, Paul & Mary, so Mary’s death was especially sad. Yet her voice will live on in my iPod and CD player.
Gibson was a bit player on Laugh-In and he played a judge on Boston Legal. I was not a big fan, but he was someone I remember clearly. Interestingly, his real name was James Bateman and he created his stage name as a pun on the name of playwright Henrik Ibsen.
It seems one of the disadvantages of living longer is that people you have seen all your life begin to pass away. As a child, you know very few people, in real life and in the public eye. But as you age, the number of people you are aware of explodes almost exponentially. The longer you live, the more people you’ve heard of. And inevitably, some of them die (before you do).
Both Mary Travers and Henry Gibson died from diseases: leukemia and cancer, respectively. I don’t know how Gibson died, but perhaps Mary Travers’ soul left on a jetplane.
At the very least, her music will forever be blowin’ in the wind.
I am a fan of Peter, Paul & Mary, so Mary’s death was especially sad. Yet her voice will live on in my iPod and CD player.
Gibson was a bit player on Laugh-In and he played a judge on Boston Legal. I was not a big fan, but he was someone I remember clearly. Interestingly, his real name was James Bateman and he created his stage name as a pun on the name of playwright Henrik Ibsen.
It seems one of the disadvantages of living longer is that people you have seen all your life begin to pass away. As a child, you know very few people, in real life and in the public eye. But as you age, the number of people you are aware of explodes almost exponentially. The longer you live, the more people you’ve heard of. And inevitably, some of them die (before you do).
Both Mary Travers and Henry Gibson died from diseases: leukemia and cancer, respectively. I don’t know how Gibson died, but perhaps Mary Travers’ soul left on a jetplane.
At the very least, her music will forever be blowin’ in the wind.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Look at it this way
Henry Ford once said that thinking was the hardest work there is – that’s why so few people do it.
I’d like to add that looking at things from a different viewpoint is just as difficult.
For example, the person who comes in second in a race is not just the second best – he is also the first loser.
I heard a statement on the radio the other day, which made me realize there is more than one way to view things. For example: When a builder constructs a building “to code,” you immediately think: “That’s great. The building must be good because it meets all the building code requirements.” But the radio commentator explained the situation this way: “building to code” simply means that it’s the worst building the builder can legally get away with. If it doesn’t meet the minimum code requirements, it can’t be used. However, the builder always has the option of building it better than code. Code is simply the minimum standard. It’s like saying a car must have four good tires to pass inspection, but they don’t have to be new – they can be just a rotation or two away from being bald.
As someone once observed, it’s comforting to know that the airplane you fly in was built by the lowest bidder.
So, to what Yogi Berra once said, that you can observe a lot by watching, let me add, “from all viewpoints.”
I’d like to add that looking at things from a different viewpoint is just as difficult.
For example, the person who comes in second in a race is not just the second best – he is also the first loser.
I heard a statement on the radio the other day, which made me realize there is more than one way to view things. For example: When a builder constructs a building “to code,” you immediately think: “That’s great. The building must be good because it meets all the building code requirements.” But the radio commentator explained the situation this way: “building to code” simply means that it’s the worst building the builder can legally get away with. If it doesn’t meet the minimum code requirements, it can’t be used. However, the builder always has the option of building it better than code. Code is simply the minimum standard. It’s like saying a car must have four good tires to pass inspection, but they don’t have to be new – they can be just a rotation or two away from being bald.
As someone once observed, it’s comforting to know that the airplane you fly in was built by the lowest bidder.
So, to what Yogi Berra once said, that you can observe a lot by watching, let me add, “from all viewpoints.”
Monday, August 31, 2009
From Paradise to Texas
A friend of mine, of similar age, recently lost his job with a company in Hawaii, where he had been living for the last eight years. His wife was able to find a job at a university in Texas, of all places, and she moved there two months ago. Not wanting to stay in Hawaii by himself, my friend was forced to leave his island paradise and move to the Lone Star State.
I just got an e-mail about his trip and it was so interesting I thought I’d reprint portions of it here. I could not written it better, so here’s what he wrote:
“The trip to Texas was extremely stressful. Delta Airlines (Never fly Delta) charged me $175 in addition to the exorbitant airfare I already paid to take my two suitcases and guitar with me. Can you believe it? No free luggage! I mean, making me pay to take my luggage on a trip is like going to a fine restaurant and ordering a meal. You pay for the food; but if you want it cooked, you have to pay $5 more. Serving it on real china with real silverware (as opposed to paper plates and plastic forks) will be an additional five dollars.
How about when you want to see a movie? You can pay to see the movie; but if you want to “hear” the movie, that’ll be an additional five bucks. Or what if you need to stay in a hotel? . . . . Wait, hotels already charge you for “everything;” so they are not good examples.
I mean, where will the greed end?
So, I am much the poorer for having to fly with luggage.”
I just got an e-mail about his trip and it was so interesting I thought I’d reprint portions of it here. I could not written it better, so here’s what he wrote:
“The trip to Texas was extremely stressful. Delta Airlines (Never fly Delta) charged me $175 in addition to the exorbitant airfare I already paid to take my two suitcases and guitar with me. Can you believe it? No free luggage! I mean, making me pay to take my luggage on a trip is like going to a fine restaurant and ordering a meal. You pay for the food; but if you want it cooked, you have to pay $5 more. Serving it on real china with real silverware (as opposed to paper plates and plastic forks) will be an additional five dollars.
How about when you want to see a movie? You can pay to see the movie; but if you want to “hear” the movie, that’ll be an additional five bucks. Or what if you need to stay in a hotel? . . . . Wait, hotels already charge you for “everything;” so they are not good examples.
I mean, where will the greed end?
So, I am much the poorer for having to fly with luggage.”
Thursday, August 27, 2009
What's your Rosebud?
Anyone who has seen the movie Citizen Kane knows what “Rosebud” represents, so I need not explain it here. However, let me pose this question: What is your Rosebud?
Mine is quite simple. It’s a ball. A small pink rubber ball. The Spaldeen.
Today’s children, including my own, who grew up in the suburbs, cannot have the same affection for this small sphere of enjoyment. It was used in so many ways: thrown in a game called Running Bases; slapped in a game called Slapball; smashed with a broom handle in Stickball; bounced in Box ball; pitched against the red bricks in Stoop ball and even bounced on the asphalt in a game called “I declare war.”
The ball never got tired and neither did we.
Sure, I had an electric train set, cowboy six shooters, a Fort Apache set, Monopoly and Clue. But none of these things gave me the hours of pleasure that playing with that high bounce pink ball did.
The only thing that came close, but was still a distant second, was my bicycle. Like a car to a teenager, the bicycle gave a youngster freedom of movement. Can you imagine a parent sending a pre-teen to the store on a bike today? They’d be brought up on charges. But our parents thought nothing of it. Or maybe they did, and we just didn’t realize it.
To this day, one of my favorite leisure activities is tossing a ball to my younger daughter as she bounces on a trampoline. It’s actually a football and she can throw a spiral way over my head. I’m just happy I can keep up with her, although my wife is constantly reminding me to act my age.
Little does she know that when I’m playing ball, I’m still 12 years old.
Mine is quite simple. It’s a ball. A small pink rubber ball. The Spaldeen.
Today’s children, including my own, who grew up in the suburbs, cannot have the same affection for this small sphere of enjoyment. It was used in so many ways: thrown in a game called Running Bases; slapped in a game called Slapball; smashed with a broom handle in Stickball; bounced in Box ball; pitched against the red bricks in Stoop ball and even bounced on the asphalt in a game called “I declare war.”
The ball never got tired and neither did we.
Sure, I had an electric train set, cowboy six shooters, a Fort Apache set, Monopoly and Clue. But none of these things gave me the hours of pleasure that playing with that high bounce pink ball did.
The only thing that came close, but was still a distant second, was my bicycle. Like a car to a teenager, the bicycle gave a youngster freedom of movement. Can you imagine a parent sending a pre-teen to the store on a bike today? They’d be brought up on charges. But our parents thought nothing of it. Or maybe they did, and we just didn’t realize it.
To this day, one of my favorite leisure activities is tossing a ball to my younger daughter as she bounces on a trampoline. It’s actually a football and she can throw a spiral way over my head. I’m just happy I can keep up with her, although my wife is constantly reminding me to act my age.
Little does she know that when I’m playing ball, I’m still 12 years old.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Thinking Ahead
This school was established in 1902. Sometime in 2002, a sign extolling “100 Years of Excellence” was installed.
It is now 2009 and every time I see the sign, I wonder, “Which seven years weren’t so excellent?’
Perhaps the sign should have read: “100 Years of Excellence, and counting,” or, at the very least, “100 Years of Excellence, 1902- 2002.”
As it stands now, each year that passes just makes me wonder which years weren’t so excellent.”
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