The National Zoo is a wonderful place. Right off Rock Creek Parkway in Washington D.C., it's another brilliant Frederick Law Olmstead landscape design, New York's Central Park arguably being the best known. It was one of the first places to house and serve as a refuge for animals in habitats instead of the constraining cages that were so in vogue for a while. The 163-acres are well laid out with some slopes but no outright hills, lots of shade areas as well as sunny ones. There are places to stop and relax, green lawns to sit on (perfect for picnics), water fountains, and even some hand pumps for quick handwashing in cool water. The Kids Farm looks just like a real, if small, farm. The Bird House is wonderful, with startling glimpses of bright colors darting all over the place. The famous roly-poly Pandas are always charming and delightful. And on your desktop computer you can even watch big and small tigers, mole-rats, octupus, gorillas, giraffes, flamingos, ferrets, cheetahs, birds, elephants, and even fish on the Zoo's 17 live web cams! I find the pandas, cheetah cubs and orangutans especially mesmerizing.

And yet, alas, I have a complaint. An 1889 act of Congress established the NZ for the purpose of “the advancement of science and the instruction and recreation of the people.” But babies - some of the "people" who are supposed to be able to enjoy the Zoo - cannot see a single solitary thing almost anywhere. Children famously adore animals and zoos, after all. Hedges and fences adorn the fronts of most of the habitats, perfectly in keeping with the habitats but also exactly as high as the eyes of anyone under four. Some fences are slatted, which seems like a solution, but the middle slat is precisely where a baby's eyes are and wide enough that it's hard to peek under or over. It's unrealistic to carry all babies and little children through the whole zoo, even if they and their adults would be willing. Yes, it would have required thinking about it to prevent this problem, but isn't it amazing that no one did. (I reject the idea that they thought of it but didn't do it.) Hedges don't have to be thick greenery all the way across and fences don't have to be traditional heights. Could "stroller" paths be set up in front of many exhibits so babies had a sightline without preventing taller children and adults from seeing? The National Zoo takes great pride in their resident four-legged animal cubs; they need to devote more thoughtful attention to their visiting two-legged human cubs.

Labels: children, places, reflections

I seem to be in a slump as far as juicy entry subjects but I have another actor-adulatory one. This one is about Boris Korloff, who seems an unlikely addition to the ones about Anthony La Paglia and Colin Firth. However, when you see several movies in succession, you see an actor's range and skill, and today I saw several movies starring Boris Karloff. (I adore black & white films and am very grateful that TCM continues to show them.) I discovered that Boris Korloff was fabulous - a really good actor who could be subtle and funny as well as powerful, intriguing and not unattractive. In the 21st century's less narrow visual landscape he might even have been permitted some leading man roles.

The characters Karloff played in these non-monster movies included an unsavory newspaper reporter (Five Star Final), a Chinese war lord (West of Shanghai) and a brilliant doctor whose treatment of a political challenger lands him in a hellish island prison (Devil's Island). He convincingly conveyed a wide variety of emotions in these films. In my marginally favorite of today's film fest, British Intelligence (1940), it's fascinating to watch him portray both a slightly halting, slightly obsequious butler and a sophisticated war-time agent or double agent who walks and looks different in each personna and as events unfold, but isn't heavy-handed, clumsy or cliched.

Karloff was in his mid-forties and an experienced and popular actor who had appeared in 80 films before the monumental Frankenstein (1931); he was in nearly 180 movies all together. His real name was William Henry Pratt and although married five times (!) the last one lasted twenty-three years. I'm not surprised - but would have been, before today - that "the private Karloff was . . . a quiet, bookish man off- screen. A true gentleman, he had many friends, both in and out of show business, and he was particularly fond of children. For the latter, among other things, he recorded many successful albums of children's stories." He was also apparently a generous and kind man. And although he was "thought of as a very large man, he was in actuality a slim man of medium height who wore massive lifts and padding to look large as Frankenstein's monster". His daugher Sara and he have the same birthday (11/23) which must have amused and pleased him. His parents were British diplomats but he left foreign service work for acting. Good thing for us.

Labels: movies, people

My friend T. mentioned Masaru Emoto to me. He has spent decades studying water and water crystals and says "the messsages of water are telling us to look inside ourselves." His photographs show clearly that words and feelings dramatically effect the structure and appearance of water crystals. And since the physical world and we ourselves are almost entirely composed of water, . . . . He says, "Beautiful words create beautiful nature, ugly words create ugly nature, this is the root of the universe." I am looking forward to reading his books and learning more, and sharing it here, of course.

Labels: modern culture, reflections

While I'm being a shameless fan of handsome actors (maybe not shameless, just really really enthusiastic!), I'll mention Colin Firth. He comes to mind today because, well, partly because he's really nice to bring to mind any time, but also because it's the anniversary of the British landing on the Falklands Islands in the 1982 war. I realized I was a huge Firth fan when I saw the 1989 movie Tumbledown, relating the story of British solider Robert Lawrence. I'd liked Firth in a couple of earlier movies (Another Country and A Month in the Country particularly) but Tumbledown's complex, uneasy story locked me in. The movie is "a gripping study of the aftermath of war and battle [that] keeps the viewer deeply enmeshed in the struggles of the principal hero." (Quote from IMDb.) It realistically shows a couple of battles of that nasty odd war and, more importantly, the personal strength and heroism that emerged when the ravages of war were visited on a strong and intelligent individual. It's an extraordinary story and a terrific movie. I suppose my attraction to Firth began by being interlaced with my admiration, respect and liking for Lawrence.

Labels: movies, people

Sometimes an actor's portrayal works so well that the person they inhabit affects me as if her or she were a friend or a family member. Anthony La Paglia's Jack Malone on Without A Trace is just such a case. I suppose it's all about the actor having thoroughly developed a back story for his character, but it doesn't feel like technique. It feels like Jack Malone exists. I always want to know more about him, what he's thinking and reading, whether he'd like to come over for dinner and just hang out a while. I find his change of haircuts interesting partly because he never discusses them even when they're extreme. There are so many little touches. Sometimes electricity. Sometimes fear. And sometimes those sharp alert eyes see things they don't tell us about. Is it all La Paglia? the writers? Whatever, I'm an enthusiastic fan. Of both men.

Labels: people, tv

Thirteen years ago today apparently was the day pundits announced that Clinton, Perot and Bush41 were in a dead heat for the 1992 election. Which reminded me of the poll I conducted as a result of the Great Cookie Wars.

Remember Mrs Clinton's remarks about having accomplished so much because she hadn't been "stuck in the kitchen"? And that Family Circle then printed Mrs Bush's and Mrs Clinton's supposedly favorite chocolate chip recipes, I guess in an attempt to level the housewife playing field? And that, not to be out-housewifed, Mrs Perot's weighed in with her favorite cookie recipe, a white flour cookie with lemon frosting? My thought was that it could be amusing to taste all three recipes and see if my cookie choices had any relationship to my feelings for the bakers' husbands.

Mrs Bush's was a scrumptious classic full-bodied chocolate chip cookie. Mrs Clinton's was a nice variation using less butter and adding oatmeal. Mrs Perot's lemon-iced white cookie was tasty and light. All three were delicious. So I got the bright idea of baking several batches of all three cookies and asking everyone who came into our office to taste all three cookies and pick a favorite, of course without knowing which cookie belonged to which prospective first lady. I was curious about whether the results would have any relationship to the real election outcome.

I don't remember actual numbers, but the percentages of voting-for-people results were identical to the voting-for-cookies results. No joke! So I called a friend at CNN, hoping she would send a crew and let me share my unscientific fun poll with the nation, but it was too late (although she said if she'd known about it in advance, she definitely would have used it). One of my favorite things was that the cookie voters said the lemon cookies were actually their favorite but they felt they should vote for a more traditional cookie. In the end, the clear and decisive results were the same between the tasters and the voters. Maybe our decision-making isn't as sophisticated and clever as we think it is. Or maybe the way to men's and women's hearts and minds really IS through their taste buds.

Labels: food, politics

Every day I look forward to reading Alan Sullivan's blog, Fresh Bilge. He makes thoughtful, perceptive and unusual comments, sometimes lengthy and researched, on things I know about and, even more stimulating and addictive, on things I know only slightly or not at all. He's a really good serious poet and photographer, and a superb blogger. Everything is more interesting once he's tackled it.

Now Alan is having to deal with chronic lymphocytic leukemia. The word "chronic" is good in the sense that it's tons better than most alternatives, but it's still dreadful and scary. I'm a prayer agnostic but I'll give it that old college - I mean Pascalian - try.

To the extent that intellectual grace, charm and energy can beat physical challenges - and goodness knows the mind is gigantically powerful - he will win. Actually, his spirit is such that he will win no matter what. I just hope it's almost agony-free and painless. Please add your prayers or whatever you believe in doing, too. Hey, maybe if we toss up enough prayers, or whatevers, those goofy gods will go play somewhere else, maybe deal with stuff their own size like religious and racial intolerance and personal cruelty, and leave good people alone.

Labels: blogs (others'), writing

What on earth is going on with all the particularly weird behaviors and crimes recently? Child molesters and murders every day. Fathers killing their own kids. Drownings. Grabbing out of bedrooms. Putting under porches while they're still alive. I mean, come on. How are people getting into houses and grabbing sleeping children anyway? It seems wildly worse than ever. Is it or is it just the ubiquitous media showing us? Have people watched other people get all that notoriety on tv and figured they want all the attention even if it means behaving appallingly? Something is very very wrong. The world is wonderful in many ways (more per capita income, more emotional clarity in general, better food, many good jobs, lots more interesting things to do, etc., etc.). But this stuff is inexplicable and awful. It has to stop.

Labels: headlines, huh?, reflections

Courtesy of James Lipton (Bravo's Inside the Actors Studio) and Eternity Road. Please feel free to copy the questions and tell your answers in a comment.

1. What is your favorite word? languor

2. What is your least favorite word? I can't choose between "wrong" and "egg albumen"

3. What turns you on creatively, spiritually or emotionally? In no particular order: reading a fabulous story, morning (crisp) sun on my desk, music in a cathedral, an unexpected gesture or word of affection, being caught up by new or newly understood ideas

4. What turns you off? Laziness and disengagement/lack of interest

5. What is your favorite curse word? f*@#ing A

6. What sound or noise do you love? That liquidy blayh-blayh sound that little kids make when they're beginning to get it that they're making sounds that mean something. Also the last two or three minutes of the last song in the first act of The Mikado

7. What sound or noise do you hate? Whining, scolding, disdain or smugness in someone's tone of voice

8. What profession other than your own would you like to attempt? Real profession: Physics experimenter and professor. For kicks: Emperor

9. What profession would you not like to do? Anything where I have absolutely no responsibility or autonomy

10. If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates? "Welcome. Come in and join us. My apologies for taking you away from everyone and all that was going on, but this should be fun too."

Labels: about me, reflections

My wish for all mothers and children, myself and mine included, is lots of care, time and energy for each other as openly, attentively and un-needily as possible, taking pleasure in the unique persons we know better than anyone. Loving is relatively easy (is that a pun?!) but truly seeing and acknowledging each other - and being seen and acknowledged - is what I wish for us/you all.

As all the stories and movies attest, motherhood is potent. I suppose it's "the" fundamental relationship, certainly Freud would say so. It colors everything we do and feel. The intensity is astonishing - and unfortunately sometimes annoying - but it's unavoidable. That intensity and original intimacy can mean heightened concern and closeness.

It's easy and familiar to keep polishing up all the old habits and hurts, but that really interferes with having a relationship. I know all too well that it's not always possible to discard or even resolve bad feelings or experiences but I wish I'd figured out how to put them in storage so I could have engaged with my parents more. I wish I had been more understanding and appreciated them more openly during their lifetimes. In the end, we all have such a very short time together and then they're gone and we're on our own without them to talk to or even argue with. Parents can be incredibly difficult but so can children. It would be much fairer if we'd shrug our shoulders and realize that whichever side of the divide we're standing on, even going back and forth, we're pissing off someone on the other side. Here's another wish: may parents and children just give it up and call a truce.

I've found being a mother to be wonderful, delightful, exhilarating, frightening, rewarding, amazing at every turn, challenging, difficult, satisfying, upsetting, hopeful, exciting, fascinating, mysterious . . . all the emotions that there are, I guess. I wouldn't trade it for anything. Talk about amazing, my family now includes two new little ones, the children of my children. They are spectacular, astonishing, cute, funny, unique personalities already, and I adore them.

Labels: about me, anniversaries, children, family, gk1

A few people have pointed out something disquieting. Jennifer Wilbanks is my and your equal in terms of having the right to vote and make really important decisions. That led me to thinking about equality and democracy and all that. I so firmly believe that we are all one hundred percent equal, from the so-called least to the so-called greatest of us. That each of our souls (whatever they may actually be) is equally deserving of life, liberty and happiness. That each of us has beliefs, preferences and values which are equally valid. (Well, most of the time anyway. LOL, as they say.) But then major doofuses jump in front of us for their quarter- and half-hours of fame and it scares the heck out of me. Suppose we lived in a small town and the mayoral election was determined by one vote and Wilbanks or Michael Jackson lived there too. Whew. Hey, I totally claim for every one of us the right to have loony ideas and points of view. I guess I'm just a little concerned what with all the pedophiles, priestly and otherwise, murders, tv judges, and fairly trivial people without much judgment, not to mention politicians and, well, you know. They're running around all over. Maybe they always have. Maybe it's cable tv's 24/7 ubiquitousness that makes it so vivid and scary. Whatever it is, I wish Beaver's mother or Donna Reed or Margaret Anderson or Marion Cunningham were the only mothers we had cuz they're the only ones who always know the right thing to say and do.

Oh, by the way: happy mother's day.

Labels: headlines, modern culture, reflections

I hear there's going to be a sitcom or dramedy on tv this fall about commuters. A fellow traveller (smile if you remember what that used to mean) and I used to amuse ourselves fabricating what various people's lives were like. We never wrote it down and never submitted a proposal, though. Silly silly us. Apparently someone stole our idea (just kidding!). Our daily trek moseys along the beautiful Hudson River - lucky us! - so I hope the show doesn't put a "drudgery" and "what a drag" spin on the whole thing (although I know some people's commutes are harder than others). More important, I hope they include real touches like annoying Crutons and wonderful Train People.

Labels: about me, friends, people, writing

Continuing on with the subject of communicating, and how complex it is, a woman whose friendship I value brought a book to show me this morning. It's a well-known book about how attitudes can influence physical health. It reviews the author's experience with 'curing' herself from catastrophic illness and lists many illnesses, aches and pains along with the negative thought patterns that contribute to them, as well as the positive affirmations that she recommends to alleviate/cure them. Years ago, I studied this a bit, as well as other books on the subject, and certainly believe that thoughts control more of everything, including our health, than we realize, let alone try to mold, most of the time. Some people probably best characterized as "extreme devotees" take it so far as to believe that all illness is caused by bad attitudes, and I do not agree with that or like that idea and its implications. Does a person's attitude control a car crashing into him and breaking his arm or leg? Is having a skin reaction to poison oak a choice? Is a bursting appendix a result of bad thoughts? I DO accept that many illnesses are brought on or worsened by our attitudes. I do NOT believe that we cause, or fail to cause, everything that happens to our bodies or our immediate environment. And I DO believe that we control how we react to everything.

Anyway, this morning my friend brought this book to show me and I took one look at it and said "Oh, I don't like that book". Hard to believe, I know, but, gee, she was frustrated and even a little upset by my reaction. She said my response seemed to say that was that and the discussion was closed, that if I didn't like it, it's not worthwhile. Since on the contrary, I would have loved to discuss it, my reaction was to think she was being over-sensitive. After all, I'd read and thought about and discussed that book and others like it for years. And I had a friend who died from cancer and felt that this book implied a bad attitude and "giving in" was the reason. So I have 'issues' with the book. Of course, duh, how was she to know any of that since I didn't say it? My blunt unexplained response had been unkind, inconsiderate and incommunicative. She'd meant to share something that interests her and I seemed to reject it and her interest. And yet I love energetic discussions, especially about things that matter. So here's to understanding ourselves, being clear, saying what we mean and meaning what we say, and learning how to talk and communicate.

Labels: people, reflections

This could be a huge topic. A blog subject, even. The whole blog. Nothing else. My dip into these waters comes from botching a simple topic in a crochet class I taught yesterday. In the continuing although perhaps futile and maybe even foolish effort to maintain a degree of anonymity for myself and those I mention, I won't tell you the topic itself, but suffice it to say that it isn't particularly difficult and is in fact much simpler than what the same group caught onto immediately a week ago. I don't know if it was the rain or the recent full moon or what, but boyoboy did it not work. Part of the problem was that I tried to address each student separately; that meant that others heard what I said and tried to absorb that information on top of his/her own . . . and it didn't work at all. "Don't add any chains" just isn't the same as "chain five", you know what I mean? Course, one is perfect for one place and one is perfect another. "Fifteen stitches" does summarize three singles, three chains, three doubles, three chains and three singles - and doesn't mean "fifteen doubles", but maybe chain stitches seem like they don't even exist. I started my class prep thinking that the group had been so quick the previous week that I didn't need to do my usual almost verbatim topic-sentence outline. I could just talk and everything would be communicated perfectly. I was wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong. Let that be a lesson to me.

Labels: people, reflections