Categorically, All Things Uncategorized.
Think Progress » ThinkFast: October 16, 2009
At a town hall event in New Orleans yesterday, 9-year old Tyren Scott asked President Obama, “Why do people hate you? They supposed to love you. God is love.” Obama responded, “If you were watching TV lately, it seems like everybody’s just getting mad all the time. And you know, I think that you’ve got to take it with a grain of salt. Some of it is just what’s called politics.” Watch the video here.
“To usher in Sesame Street’s 40th year on air starting Nov. 10, First Lady Michelle Obama will be appearing on the show to continue to spread her radical/Marxist/fascist message about planting gardens and eating vegetables.” — Elmo, Michelle Obama to Indoctrinate Your Kids With Veggies, Posted by James Poniewozik [mjh: The rest is worth a read.]
In three months, three of our friends – two of whom are under 65 – have suffered terrible injuries in falls. Thirty-seven years ago, my father died from a fall. Be careful. Watch your step. Take yoga or tai chi.
ABQJOURNAL OPINION/GUEST_COLUMNS: New Mexico’s Fall-Related Death Rate Is Nation’s Highest
Sunday, September 20, 2009
New Mexico’s Fall-Related Death Rate Is Nation’s Highest
By Dr. Carla Herman And Frieda Gonzales
UNM Center on Aging N.M. Department of HealthTuesday, the first day of fall, is "National Fall Awareness Day," a day that spotlights fall prevention for older adults.
Every year, nearly 1,500 New Mexicans 65 years and older are hospitalized for fall-related injuries, and about 230 die from those injuries. Remarkably, New Mexico’s fall death rate is greater than two times the national rate for people 65 years or older — in fact, we have the highest fall-related death rate in the nation for all ages. These statistics represent one preventable tragedy after another.
ABQJOURNAL OPINION/GUEST_COLUMNS: New Mexico’s Fall-Related Death Rate Is Nation’s Highest
Happy 75th Birthday to the singing poet (more poet than singer). I was introduced to L.Cohen about 37 years ago by two friends, who also taught me Hearts in more ways than one. He wiped my slate blank, gave me a new religion, and planted seeds I’m still waiting to grow. Nobody weaves sex and religion more intricately than Mr Leonard Cohen (L.Koan).
Sixteen years ago, Mer and I went to Paolo Solari to see L.Cohen. It was dreadful to sit among glassy-eyed fans who insisted on singing along – not that he couldn’t use the help. I hate fans. Might be time to watch McCabe and Mrs Miller again.
From The Writer’s Almanac (9/21/04)
Leonard Cohen wrote, “As our eyes grow accustomed to sight they armour themselves against wonder.”
Happy Birthday and thank you very much. mjh
Lyrics to Hallelujah by Leonard Cohen, one of his masterpieces (cue The Master’s Song, while we’re at it).
mjh’s blog — Leonard Cohen’s Birthday (2004)
[hattip to the singing blogger, NewMexiKen]
Fifty years ago, four years after I was born in the Territory of Hawai’i, Hawai’i became the 50th state. Let’s overlook the invasion, conquest, and overthrow of the indigenous sovereign a hundred years ago, and hang loose. Aloha!
Five-oh is five-oh. « The Edge of the American West
I, BARACK OBAMA, President of the United States of America, by the virtue of the authority vested in me by the Constitution and laws of the United States, do hereby proclaim August 21, 2009, as the Fiftieth Anniversary of Hawaii Statehood. I call upon the people of the United States to observe this day with appropriate programs, ceremonies, and activities.
http://edgeofthewest.wordpress.com/2009/08/21/five-oh-is-five-oh/
For most of my life – even if I live to 99 – I didn’t own blue jeans. Originally, it had to do with jeans fitting me so badly. Eventually, I became proud that I didn’t dress like everyone else. I wore corduroy, but that’s a laughing matter for another blog entry. When I turned 50, I felt it was time to challenge myself, so, I bought a pair of blue jeans and joined the herd. Moo.
I’m telling you that as preface to an even more shocking detail that may set me apart from everyone I know: I rarely talk on the telephone. It’s not a phobia: it’s weirder than that. The few people I have talked to on the phone would never guess how rare that is, considering how normal I must sound. I used to have a list of reasons to explain why I avoid phones until I decided that the list came after the aversion, as is so often the case, merely to explain something that may actually be unexplainable and, further, warrants no explanation. It’s my right to avoid phones and, more than likely, not my only eccentricity. Because Merri *LOVES* talking on the phone, we’re a good match (for more than this reason), except when we are away from each other. (In spite of this, we talked frequently by phone the year she was in NM before I moved out.) These days, email, IM, and Skype make it seem almost unnecessary to have a phone. Or so I thought.
But, now I see the inevitable. I see the accidents, the injuries, the mis- and missed communications growing worse with age. I see long hours in waiting rooms looming. I see that IM via WiFi won’t work after a fender-bender or lost along a byway. I see – choking back a little puke now – a phone in my future. A phone fastened to me like a ball and chain, like the mark of the devil, like a pair of jeans I can’t remove. A phone I can’t get away from because I’m *afraid* I may need it at any moment. How do you live with this?
Because even 10 year-olds have more experience with cell phones than I do, I’m asking for input, if you’re still with me at this point (thank you). Who provides the best service? Which is the best phone/feature? When I say ‘best,’ keep in mind that unlimited minutes don’t mean much to me, unless I undergo a complete personality change. (Possible, but that would be hope for the wrong thing.) Should I use one of those ‘pay as you go’ phones? Which?
I would consider a service that provides a computer connection, but don’t recommend the iPhone or the Crackberry. Is there another nerd option?
Thanks for your suggestions in the comments or by email. Don’t call. peace, mjh
Recently, someone asked me if I had written a book. “Why, yes,” I replied with enough pride to beg the Universe to push me down, “Four, in fact.” “Was one a book about your experiences in the Sixties?” Sigh.
This was not the first nor worst time I’ve been mistaken for Mark Rudd, Sixties Radical and math teacher. My name is Mark and I’m married to Merri Rudd, so this mistake has come up many times. That surprises me, in part, because I wouldn’t expect the wife of a Sixties Radical to take his name.
I think the worst such experience occurred at a party. I was introduced to a doctor as, “Merri’s husband, Mark.” “Oh,” he exclaimed, “I’ve been wanting to meet you for so long.” I beamed. “Tell me about the Weather Underground.” I stopped beaming. (As Wikipedia will tell youngsters, this is not the service that reports weather information but a domestic terrorism organization.)
The funniest of these mix-ups involved a phone call I received at home one night twenty years ago. “Hi, this is Mark,” I said, as I did when I used to answer the phone. “Mark! I’m with Columbia University. We’re interviewing people about their experiences in the Sixties. Do you have a minute?” “Sure,” I replied. Hell, I remember the Sixties. I don’t remember how long into the conversation the caller asked, “Are you Mark Rudd?” “Uh, no.” Click. Sigh.
Can you imagine what it is like to disappoint people when they find out you’re not who they expected? I just hope someday, someone says to the Mark Rudd, “I really like your book on digital photography.”
