Writings and Blogs

INR Feb 3 2009

Mon, 23 Feb 2009 16:42:25 -0500

Think Less With Mars and More With Venus

Thu, 15 May 2008 01:00:00 -0400

Julianna Forlano, winner of Reader’s Digest Funniest Comic in Chicago says:

“Think Less With Mars And More With Venus”

Thinking about women being in charge of Chicago reminds me of the old “Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus” debate. Just wondering, have you seen Mars lately? Its all red and burned up with very little possibility of sustaining life. I’m just sayin’… We may want to consider speeding up the process of splitting the power a little more equally down here on Plant Earth before …well…you know….

Now, If I were personally in charge of Chicago, the first thing I’d do is slap my ex-boss turned administrative assistant, Bill, firmly on the bottom, and say “Now go get me some coffee, ok jiggles? Two sugars, no cream, and don’t screw it up like you do all the other times.” See how YOU like it Bill. Bill McHenrey…. of Masters and McHenery, LLC.

Then, after I got that out of my system, I’d take out an ad here in our Sun-Times to recruit people for my fem-power staff. I wouldn’t just look for women but I’d look for qualities in any person, regardless of gender, that are considered typically less confrontational and therefore less masculine. I’m talking about valuable leadership qualities like non-combative conflict resolution, effective and assertive communication skills and prioritization of human and environmental well-being. If these qualities are there, the gender of the person in question doesn’t matter. Why, just look at me for example; I’m a woman and the first thing I did with my new found power is act out aggressive retribution on poor, Bill. Sorry buddy. Why don’t you take the day off?

Unfortunately, the competitive, dog-eat-dog nature, of rising to power in the current system all but destroys the possibility of finding leaders with the above qualities who are already deeply rooted in the political system. What difference does it make if the candidate has job experience, or, for that matter, a uterus? The important question, if you can excuse the pun, is “can they think less with their Mars and more with their Venus?”

With the city’s most powerful Venus- thinkers behind me, I’d tackle Chicago’s School System, first by funding them properly. Then we would totally overhaul the priority of the education, refocusing it on teaching children emotional literacy. All current subjects would be in the service of teaching children how to think critically and make smart choices, how to deal with all the BS they will encounter in life without losing their head, and, of course, how to keep a sense of humor. This revolutionary new program will not only create our city’s responsible and visionary leaders of tomorrow, but is likely to be the first of its kind anywhere, which once and for all would dispel the mistaken notion that Chicago is, in any way, the Second City.

September 11th: A Witness Looks Back

Tue, 11 Sep 2007 13:32:35 -0400

Today I was interviewed on “Now We’re Talking”, a Chicago radio show, about my experience on 9/11. I was a New Yorker at the time of the attacks, and like hundreds of thousands of other New Yorkers, I was an eye witness to the events. The intent of the interviewer was to add to the narrative of what it was like to live in NYC at that time and what the personal aftermath, at this distance in time, would be for a person who’s life was impacted but not devistated by these events.
Host and announcer Bill Jurek, asked me to recount my experience of the day and the aftermath. I spoke of the experience of time slowing down as I heard the roar of a plane just a few hundred yards over my head as I was walking east on Waverly Place, a little more than a mile north of the tower’s site. At that point I really didn’t know it was something horrible that had happened, only something unusual. As any New Yorker who’s heart is captured by downtown NYC could tell you, the twin towers could be seen in a beautiful vista, framed perfectly by the Washington Square Arch from the north side of the park. As I neared this vista, I saw people stopped in their tracks, staring south. So, like any good New Yorker, I too, looked south. For 10 minutes or so the initial reaction of most onlookers was of sadness. Not knowing the ins and outs of protected air space, most people, myself included, thought it was just a terrible accident and it became an item of gossip that was spreading.

“Do you hear what happened?”
“Do you know anyone on those top floors?”

My mother and father are the kind of folks that called me at my home in Denver, CO on the day of the Columbine shootings to see if I was ok. At that time I’d been out of highschool for 9 years and worked at an Opera Company.

I anticipated their panic and called.

*Ring Ring”
“Hello?”
“Mom.. Its me, I just want you to know I am ok.”
“Why, what’s happening?”

I had clearly underestimated the ‘out-of-touch factor’.

“Turn on your TV”

And just as she did, the second tower was hit.
At that point, the atmosphere on the ground palpably changed. The denial shattered. This was not a mistake. Fear and the quiet panic that happens when people are telling themselves not to panic was engulfing lower Manhattan. What do we do next? Who do I call? I hope everyone is ok....?

I had bonded up with three people I had met on one occasion before, other students in the graduate department at NYU. On that day we were supposed to start our first day of classes. Strangers come spontaneous support system. Four of us bonded together and searched the streets for more information on what was happening. Meanwhile, fighter jets began to fly overhead. Sirens screamed on their way downtown. People were in the streets; throngs of people. Cars and vans, pulled over, blared their radios with news channels so people could be informed of what was happening around them. I was on ADHD overload. People were gathering around each car listening. There were reports that Camp David had been attacked, the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco destroyed, and the White House hit by another plane and general armageddon.
Waves of people were walking north from downtown. Some crusted with debris but most just shocked and walking. Strangely trivial thoughts paraded through my mind as if they were not really mine: “how did she walk all that way in those high-heeled pointy toed shoes?”, “I bet she spent a lot of money on those shoes.” “Maybe she fit in better at work.” “Maybe she was the envy of co-workers.” “Maybe she just liked looking good.” Maybe she got her self worth from what other people thought of her.” “Maybe she had to front to get ahead in the system we live in.” “Does she know she’s truly beautiful from the inside....that she’s more than her shoes?” The bizarre nature of our collective priorities was oddly forefront in my mind.

I was milling about a crowded street, looking for a valid news source, with my three NYU counterparts when suddenly a woman screamed. This was no time for yelling fire in a crowded theater. Panic ensued. People started running, mostly in one direction and again time slowed in my mind.
Its a funny feeling to have your body take off on you without your express mental consent. My legs stated to run. My mind tried to keep up. “What buildings are around here?” “Any Targets?” “I can’t see anything.” “Hey these people are all running this way, maybe they know something I don’t. I’ll run this way too.” I wonder if those are the same thought sheep have when they start off in a particular direction without cause.

I feared for my life. Even the countless white-knuckle road trips with my dad passing on a double yellow as we scale the Hunter Mountains didn’t hold a candle to this moment.

As that moment stretched into eternity my collective flock and I saw what was going on. Apparently the woman who had screamed was over come at the sight of the first tower collapsing. In the chaos, I was separated from my 3 companions but we were drawn back together by what can only be described as a strange force.

The trains had all stopped running and we needed a place to go so we headed toward the home of one of our group’s members. It was a thirty block walk in the opposite direction of my home. Passing a Gap Clothing Store that was advertising a big sale on ‘must-have’ socks struck me as so bizarre. Just an hour ago, socks were an important thing....a MUST HAVE. Shopping was an important thing. Now, nothing but survival was an important thing, and that, as exemplified by the women in the pointy-toed shoes, could easily be done without the latest in sock fashion. It was strangely liberating. All the advertising I passed on our way uptown took on this same grotesque quality. Did I really need a better body in 30 days? I was grateful to still have the body I was in. Will a perfume really win me the love of that special someone? Suddenly, I could see through all the bullshit.....and it struck me as funny. Just an hour ago I was enslaved by it.
We arrived at our destination, a 1 bedroom apartment terrifyingly close to the United Nations building, which seemed like it could easily be a logical target. After about 2 hours of watching CBS news, the only tv channel in the city still working, we noticed that CBS news sucked. When selected subway lines began to run again, the F train to Brooklyn, was one of them. Although it does not travel all that close to the site of what’s now known as ground zero, my F train was still going to bring me closer than I was now, a thought that was less than comforting. I would have to ride south, go under the river, to reemerge in Brooklyn, under the plume of smoke and fallout that had ridden the easterly wind. I left the illusory safety of the group and headed home. No cell phone service to reach out to friends. Nothing but myself on mostly deserted mid-town streets, with my hands in my pockets, my heart in my throat.

The subway was packed. I don’t remember waiting on the platform or getting on the train. What I do recall is how I was standing with, and up against my fellow New Yorkers, and fellow human beings, who were pressed against others an against the doors, windows, seats, and poles of the train. There was no pushing. There were no annoying glances of people who feel you are invading their space. No one was reading a magazine or listening to headphones. People were looking each other in the eye and acknowledging one another. We were all there. Present. Respectful. Silent. It was the most unbelievably profound experience of solidarity I had ever had in my life to that point.

When I arrived at my apartment I found my apartment was covered in dust and debris. Now I’m by no stretch of the imagination a neat freak. But I’m quite sure I didn’t leave 2 inches of fallout dust and pulverized concrete, office supplies and human remains all over everything in my place. In fact I don’t remember much except for closing the window and talking the sheets and blankets off my bed to take to the laundry-mat. My roommate arrived home and joined in the cleaning process. I’m pretty certain we were both avoiding No sleep was had that night. No sleep was had that week. Very little sleep was had that entire month. A man at the end of the block set a very large and loud speaker system up outside his store front and played one version of God Bless America over and over and over and over and over. And Over. For weeks. This was before I had discovered to beauty of earplugs and as such I cannot hear that version of God Bless America or any version of that song, without being transported back in time to the events of September 11.
To be continued....

Weathering Weather

Fri, 17 Aug 2007 01:00:00 -0400

I thought I’d found the solution. The Weather Channel. The Weather Channel or as she’s known by her intimates, TWC, had been my television refuge for close to 5 years now. Having been warned about the danger of going extremes, I had become stuck. If I watched TV in the morning, the bad news and fear mongering I heard seeped into me, under the radar, especially at 6 am, when my brain’s defenses hadn’t even had their first jolt of espresso, much less taken their stations to protect me throughout the day. TV news should have a BIG RED LABEL on it. “WARNING: this broadcast may cause excessive fear and anxiety which may lead to depression, hopeless feelings, and the suppression of rational thought.” Yet I did not want to rid myself of morning TV altogether and risk being cut off from the world, or perhaps worse, cut off from water cooler conversation. I found the softer side of life at TWC. They told me the weather. Weather is news. Plus, if something important was happening, I could find out the bare bones of the story without the usual dramatization i.e. “cooler temperatures in the Pacific Northwest are bringing some welcome relief to the workers cleaning up the debris from that oil refinery fire which finally went out yesterday.” Then, of course, it was up to me whether or not I wanted to know more. Even more soothing, their regular shout-out’s to different, fun, regional events remind me that the people of the world are still having a good time somewhere and God is still benevolent. Why else would scattered showers give way to clearer skies just as the Great New York State Fair’s opening day gets underway? Marshall Seese, Heather Tesch, Nicole Mitchell: these meteorologists and weather-castors are my friends, just telling me what to look out for. Do I need a wool coat today or are light layers enough? What strength of hair styling product is called for? High wind advisory in effect until 9? Better go with Maximum Hold. Occasionally there would be bad news. But somehow, the understanding that I am powerless over today’s weather, and more over, other people are both powerless over and subject to today’s weather, sets me at ease. Rich or poor, red state or blue, we all have to deal with it. Consider it: weather has usurped education as the great equalizer.
Yet, as with all good things on television, degradation occurs (ex; Friends, Six Feet Under, Ali McBeal). The decay was subtle and slow moving, like a warm tropical air mass coming up from the south. At first I noticed that they had some fear-based programming. The shows “It Could Happen Tomorrow”, “Storm Stories”, and “Full Force Nature” all seemed to play upon the topic of getting caught in bad weather and having some tragedy befall you. “It Could Happen Tomorrow” is a show of pure conjecture. It portrays extreme weather conditions or geologic events wiping away entire cities and lets the viewers mind digest the horror and human suffering possible if, someday… Is this healthy brain food? I suppose there must be enough consumers out there who love to feed their fear and, like any other addict, constantly need more and more mental junk food to satiate the cravings. These shows, the pork rinds of the mind, continue to be produced. (Question; how many huge tragedies can there be? Are there really enough major cities in the US to wipe out to keep this show running for another season?) In any case it was no matter as when it came to my particular needs, these programs weren’t on in the morning and, if I didn’t want the fear injection, I could simply opt not to watch them. I could get my weather and soft-core news report and start my day in serenity.

Then something changed.

Enter Hurricane Katrina. A real-life “It Could Happen Tomorrow” tragedy made worse by political games. Now enter Al Gore. With the release of his movie “An Inconvenient Truth” which documents the impact of human activity on the global climate and shows us the frightening trajectory we are on, the Weather Channel has become the watchful eye of climate change. Global warming, still considered a myth in some circles and greatly minimized in others, is predicted to cause more intense hurricanes, like Katrina, and possibly worse. Everyone is watching. Waiting. Not that the flooding in Texas, abundant droughts in the southeast, oppressive heat waves, and other weather anomalies aren’t enough to convince anyone with observational skills (i.e. two eyes and a brain) that something is amiss and consequences are beginning to show. We are waiting for the hurricanes.

Yesterday, while watching Your Weather Today, awaiting my “local on the 8’s” I detected it: meteorologist disappointment. “Hurricane Flossie is not going to make landfall in Hawaii. The only thing Hurricane Fossie will be remembered for.... is high surf...now back to you.” Bum-mer. Nothing to report. No destruction, no flapping L.L.Bean jackets to illustrate just how dangerous and wild Mother Nature can become. Nothing to fear. Then again later, a different meteorologist had an equally puzzling tone when she reported... “It looks like tropical storm Erin is losing intensity and will not be categorized as a hurricane.” You’d think that would be a statement accompanied by relief. But in fact the following statements were the ones filled with promise “Erin will be bringing heavy rains to portions of Texas that are already over-saturated and this may cause flash flood warnings to go into effect. ” Well THANK HEAVENS! Otherwise, what would I worry about? “Tropical Storm Dean does have the capacity to be upgraded to a hurricane and may turn into a MAJOR weather event capable of intense destruction.” Pfew. My fear fix is here. I wouldn’t want to leave the house in the morning feeling happiness or even a little joy that the storm isn’t that strong yet and, if just for today, isn’t headed for a major metropolitan area. It seems like danger must lie in store for me, say, if I were to leave the house with a slight feeling of gratitude that folks near the Gulf of Mexico may not be put in harm’s way. Thank you Weather Channel for protecting me from the dangers of an uplifted spirit. What would a day without at least low-level fear be like anyway? I guess I haven’t found a news source yet that will help me find out.

“Stay tuned to The Weather Channel for updates.”