Archive for June, 2007

I’m on vacation and spending most of my time going to the pool, playing with my brother’s kids and, of course, watching movies. Suspect is on right now. I love this movie…it is the reason I wanted to be a lawyer. I never went to law school and still sort of regret it, especially when I see films like this one. They do a nice job in this film of not romanticizing (as much as is possible) the un-glamorous duties of the public defender. It is thankless work — at one point, Cher’s embittered public defender quips, “I’m tired…I think I should go into private practice. I figure if I’m going to go crazy I might as well get paid for it.” I had exactly the same feelings as a journalist.

Anyway, I did manage to make it to the beach. Here’s the sunrise over Tybee Island

and a picture of me and my fantastic brother and sister-in-law. They came through in a pinch and I love them for it.

And, by the way, Prince is the best traveling music. When the Doves Cry was the first 45 record I bought and I still love it, most especially while exhausted and sunburned, with sand in my hair, drinking a Dr. Pepper and eating an Almond Joy while watching the scenery fly by on a Sunday afternoon. So here it is.

And yo Texas, can you send some of that rain this way? We kinda need it down here…

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My sister-in-law took some great photos of my grandparent’s house and winery in Maryland. I love this place — they bought it the year I was born and I spent at least a week there every summer until I was about 16 or so. The front of the house faces the Potomac because it is just that old and yes, it is haunted. A little boy lives in the closet of the furnace room. Ask my nephew; he’ll tell you.

This place taught me perspective — both geographically and emotionally. Across the river, faded blue, is the coast of Virginia, something that amazed me as a child. I remember watching a tornado come across the water with my whole family. My dad basically dragged us out of the house to watch it. I remember pulling in crab pots and shucking oysters on the front screened-in porch with my grandfather, wearing a huge rubber glove on one hand and brandishing a little weapon in the other. I remember fishing in the bay and swimming in tennis shoes and playing “Who’s afraid of Birdie Mason?” with my cousins (don’t ask…). And I remember going to some of the best parties I’ve ever been to. My grandparents knew how to throw a crab feast by God. They’re both gone now. My mom keeps saying she’s an orphan now. But damn, in this place, I see them. And I hope they know how much their interests enriched my, and many others’ lives. I know you’re playing “fusky” in the sky grandpa. And grandma, I’ll try not to slam the screen door.

Anyway, have a look at my childhood. I’m going to the beach.

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Here’s part of the entry for Salman Rushdie [emphasis mine]:

Sir Ahmed Salman Rushdie (Hindi: सलमान रश्दी Urdu: سلمان رشدی; born 19 June 1947) is a British-Indian novelist and essayist. He first achieved fame with his second novel, Midnight’s Children (1981), which won the Booker Prize. Much of his fiction is set on the subcontinent of India. Increasingly, however, the dominant theme of his work has become the long, rich and often fraught story of the many connections, disruptions and migrations between the East and the West.

His fourth novel, The Satanic Verses (1988), provoked violent reactions from radical Muslims. After death threats and a fatwa (religious ruling) issued by Iranian Ayatollah Khomeini calling for his assassination, he spent years underground, appearing in public only sporadically. During the last decade, however, he has resumed a normal literary life. He was made a Knight Bachelor in June 2007,[1] which has raised eyebrows of the Muslim communities around the world.[2]

No read the CBS News version of what Wikipedia refers to as “raised eyebrows of Muslim communities”:

“The West is accusing Muslims of extremism and terrorism. If someone exploded a bomb on his body, he would be right to do so unless the British government apologizes and withdraws the ‘sir’ title,” ul-Haq said.

I love Wikipedia. I really do. But you really really do have to be really really careful.

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Can’t talk. Too much going down. So, here’s a pic of a recent family reunion — how cute are my Dad and his siblings?

and one of a friend of mine who is proving that Biscuitville — the fabled little shop of biscuits that apparently only exists in North Carolina and Virginia — is indeed a very real place. This Long Islander is fascinated by us backward Southerners and wanted to make sure that the mythology of Biscuitville — and everything it stands for — was dutifully captured on film. Of course, he had to prove he was there because people are always lying about going to Biscuitville…

And I’m really sick of the History Channel trying to scare the shit out of everybody. Yes, the Mayans were really sharp and their prediction of turmoil in the year 2012 is compelling.

They also killed themselves off so let’s agree that perhaps they weren’t completely genius about this whole end-of-the-world thing, k?

Please send some love this way for my brother and his family. Jacob you’re a fighter — don’t forget it.

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Bye-lo, My baby
The moon is a cradle,
A bright, shining cradle
hung up in the sky.

The clouds are your pillows,
soft soft and so downy,
so bye-lo, my baby
rock a bye, bye.

It was on your terms till the end. Nice touch taking the power out in that room when you went. I’ll miss you Grandma.

(thanks Juge for the lullaby reminder)

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Still searching

I will not rest until I experience a day where everyone I see I either like, love or respect. I will, at that point, have surrounded myself with the right people (for me anyway, to be fair) and perhaps my work will be done. Or maybe that’s when it starts…
Totally stole this from Villainous Company. I found it oddly calming…
Friday, you’ve been gone too long.

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