The change we need

To hell with the same old "drill, drill, drill" -- it's time for some good old American innovation.




Wanna help? http://www.wecansolveit.org/content/pages/371/

Faux blogs

When is a "blog" not a blog?

When it's just another institutional web page. You'd think a university that uses the tagline "powering silicon valley" could do better.

Read my colleague Steve Sloan's comments on why this isn't really a blog, and what it would take to make this faux blog a real one.

Obama!

Obama's speech left me with tears in my eyes and hope in my heart. Maybe we can win America back. Just maybe we can redeem the American dream and America's promise, so damaged over the last several years.

My colleague, Dona, and I almost didn't make it in time for the speech. We were on the way to Lake Tahoe, listening to the convention speeches on NPR, the sound crackling at times among the mountains.

We heard Al Gore's stellar call to action. As we got closer, we wondered if we'd get there in time to see Obama's speech, not just hear it.

When we pulled in the drive, we left everything in the vehicle, ran inside and turned on the TV. The introductory video was just starting. Yes!

Obama's speech filled me with the hope. Maybe we can fulfill America's potential. Maybe we can get back on track. Maybe we can deal with our nation's problems now, instead of foisting them off on future generations.

As the TV cameras panned over the people in the audience, I was struck by how much they looked like California. All ages, all races. Black and white and Asian and Hispanic and more -- all cheering together. All looking ahead. I hope the rest of America sees the promise of that.

And now I'm listening to conservative Patrick Buchanan on MSNBC say, "This is the greatest convention speech. ...This wasn't a liberal speech at all...it was beautiful."

Hell, if Obama can appeal to Buchanan, he can certainly reach Independents...and maybe even some disenchanted Republicans.

Yes, something in America is stirring. Yes, it is.

Death on wings

I saw death this morning...just a glimpse, through my kitchen window.

Picture me in my bathrobe (light blue cotton), around 8 a.m., passing through the kitchen on my way back to the sofa and my laptop. I hear three sharp cries of distress through the slightly open kitchen window. I turn and see a flash of hawk ascending from dense shrubs bordering my front yard. It is rising skyward with something clutched in its sharp talons. Then it is gone.

I figure it must have nabbed a quail.

It's been a tough month for the neighborhood coveys of California Quail. Just last week, I was sitting on my sofa when I heard a clamor of quail in the back yard, followed by a mysterious thud. I got up to investigate.

As I stepped out onto the back deck, I was startled to see a hawk take off from the deck railing. At the same time, several quail burst out of their hiding places and buzzed off to find better cover. Another dull thud. I looked around, puzzled, then realized what that sound probably was -- panicked quail smacking into the picture windows overlooking our backyard.

I walked over to the windows and looked under the shrubs that border the foundation. Sure enough, a quail lay on the ground. Dull gray-brown feathers and a small plume -- a female. It made no move to get away, so I reached down and picked it up. Its head lolled, its eyes closed, its feet gave a little twitch. Then it was still.

I set it back on the ground and looked a little further. Yes, there was another one, a juvenile, lying on the ground behind the shrub. Clearly stunned, but still alive. When it saw me, it took off, a short dash followed by an unsteady hop of a flight that took it back onto the deck. I watched and waited quietly, not wanting to scare it off again. It sat on the bench for several minutes before flying up into one of the trees beside our house.

I picked up the dead quail again, and carried it over to the deck. I laid it gently atop the railing, a kind of peace offering to hawks, before going inside. The next morning, it was still there. Maybe hawks can't see quail unless they're in motion, or maybe they don't like them already dead.

The following morning, I noticed it was gone. I hoped perhaps a hawk had carried it off, but no. When I looked, I saw it had been blown off the railing onto the ground. The ants had already found it. In a few days, nothing would be left but bones and feathers.

My WP tattoo

Yes, I'm having fun at WordCamp. Like my temp tattoo?

Wordcamp or the ER?

I had to make a tough choice to make early this morning...attend Wordcamp, or accompany my ailing husband to the local ER.

Wordcamp or the ER?
Wordcamp or the ER?

I hate to say it, but I went to Wordcamp...and my hubby went to the ER alone.

P.S. He was totally ambulatory and told me to go. I checked in; he's fine, now taking antibiotics.

P.P.S. Why am I blogging about Wordcamp on a Blogger blog? Because all of my school blogs are on Wordpress...love that "pages" feature. Why haven't I switched this blog over to WP? Inertia...and ease of uploading photos.

Pretty in Pink

Pink Sky2
Photo by cynmccune

It was one of those gorgeous evenings, when the late afternoon sun made the neighboring hills and the city below us glow and glint with light. Every time I looked out the window, something else was gleaming in the setting sun.

As twilight approached, the sky colored pink. I grabbed my camera and stepped out on the deck to grab some pics.

The top photo is the view over neighboring rooftops, looking north. The second one is a cloud formation over the bay.

I love those sensuous, puffy pink clouds.

May nothing evil cross this door

It's been a week since a man walked into a Unitarian-Universalist church in Knoxville, Tennessee, pulled a gun out of a guitar case, and shot and killed two people.

It's been a week of realizing that religious hatred and violence are not just things that happen in places like Bosnia, Africa, Palestine or Iraq; they're alive and well in the United States of America...and sometimes they're directed at people like me. It's been an unsettling realization.

I'm a Unitarian Universalist. For about five years in the mid-'90s, I lived in Knoxville. I attended some Sunday services at that UU church, though I never became a member.

This morning at my UU church, we sang May Nothing Evil Cross This Door. The words carried a new layer of meaning. My eyes teared, at times my voice faltered.

In her sermon, our minister spoke about the Tennessee killings. She spoke of the usher who put himself between the shooter and the rest of the congregation, and was shot and killed. She spoke of those who made sure the children got out safely, and of the brave souls who tackled the gunman and held him down until police arrived. And of the woman interviewed outside the church shortly after the shootings, who was asked what the killer had said as he shot at them. She told the reporter the man said hateful things, but declined to elaborate. She told the reporter, "The hate ends here."

I've been thinking about that. Would I have had the presence of mind, or the "control of mouth," to have stopped myself from repeating -- and perpetuating -- those words of hate. Honestly, I doubt it. I even talk back to the TV sometimes.

As a former reporter, I understand why journalists asked what the killer said. But I'm glad she didn't tell them. If she had, those hateful words would have become lurid headlines, fodder for breathless newscasts and talk radio hatemongers nationwide. Some things are better left unsaid.

The day before the shooting, at the BlogHer conference, I attended a session on "Beautiful Blogging." One speaker defined it as staying open to the positive in spite of difficulties. Another put it more bluntly. Alyssa Royse of JustCauseIt.com said, "Do I want to put my crap in the world, or do I want to put out something that will make people feel better and be better?" She said she chooses to focus on the positive.

And I guess that's what we did in church this Sunday. All the money in today's collection plates, along with notes of support and caring, will go to the Knoxville Relief Fund to help those affected by the shooting.

The final verse of May Nothing Evil Cross This Door:

With laughter drown the raucous shout,
and, though these sheltering walls are thin,
may they be strong to keep hate out
and hold love in.

The hate stops here.

Link to a story on the rededication of the Tennessee Valley Unitarian Universalist Church.

Leaving caution behind

Halfway to campus, something got stuck.

Bong, bong. "Caution, the doors are about to close."
Bong, bong. "Caution, the doors are about to close."

Finally, the train rolled out of Palo Alto station, with the auto voice still chanting.

Bong, bong. "Caution, the doors are about to close."
Bong, bong. "Caution, the doors are about to close."

All the way to San Jose.

A conductor rushed to the intersection between the two front cars, where the auto voice was on overload. He tinkered. He poked. No change.

Bong, bong. "Caution, the doors are about to close."
Bong, bong. "Caution, the doors are about to close."

Another conductor arrived. More tinkering. Some banging. No change.

Bong, bong. "Caution, the doors are about to close."
Bong, bong. "Caution, the doors are about to close."

Finally, they gave up.

As we rolled into San Jose Diridon Station, I think we were all ready to leave "caution" behind. Maybe even throw caution to the wind.

BlogHer pics

Here are some of my favorite photos from the BlogHer closing event at Macy's.


SueBob of Red Stapler blog snuggles up to a mannequin in Macy's lingerie department...Diane Brown of oak-in-the-seed blog and a frriend from Land 'O Lakes...a beautiful plate of savories...J.D. Bauchery's bluebird tattoo.

BlogHer Photo Walk

After spending most of the day in BlogHer sessions, I took a break Saturday afternoon and joined the Shutter Sisters for their first annual BlogHer Photo Walk.

We started out in Union Square, across the street from the hotel, where a crowd had gathered to watch a local fashion show. I got engrossed in grabbing some shots to add to my hair series (coming soon to my Flickr site) and soon lost track of the rest of the group. Oh well.

Some folks were selling things in the square, and I couldn't help browsing. I found a fabulous bead bracelet at the Corinthia Peoples Designs booth, and brought it from Marinda (at right). She has great hair and agreed to let me photograph her.

I also had fun taking pics of Angel's Trumpet (a.k.a. brugmansia) in flower beds on one side of the Square, and of pedestrians passing in front of a large billboard.

Then, as I was heading back to the hotel to catch the Boomers "Birds of a Feather" session at 4 p.m., I caught sight of a guy toting a really big fashion show poster on his head.

"Wait a minute!" I said. "I need a picture!"

John Bibayan, a UC-Berkeley student who's interning at 944 magazine, obliged, and I got this pic...which I just love. Thanks John!

Graveyard humor

Earlier this summer, I visited Sydney, Nova Scotia, and toured St. Patrick's Church Museum. Built in 1828, this small stone church is the oldest Roman Catholic Church still standing on Cape Breton Island.

As I stood in the center of the church, docent John A. told me church about its founder, the Reverend Henry McKeagney. When he died, John said, the Reverend was buried in a small graveyard right behind the church. But when a small church addition was built, his grave had to be moved.

Where to, I inquired?

You're standing on him, John replied.

Eew!

John just smiled. We walked over to the small side annex. Turning, he pointed to a large square of new floorboards in the center of the church. That's how they got into the basement when they needed to install a furnace, he said.

But they found a surprise down there...several more graves that had to be relocated.

"Where?" I asked, right on cue.

John smiled at me and said, "You're standing on them."

Yeah, he got me again.

Travelogue, Part 2

I loved Quebec City: People speaking French. Narrow cobblestone streets, lined with tall brick buildings, winding up a steep hill crowned by the Hotel Frontenac. Lots of stairs, a funicular...and did I mention lots of people speaking French?

The first thing I did was buy a French-English dictionary and try to remember some of my high school French. But it turns out it wasn't necessary. Everyone I talked to was fairly bilingual.

In between shopping bouts (QC has some great boutiques!), I heard a clamor. I saw people gathering at the edge of the street; there was a buzz of anticipation. What's up? Bicycle race!

Here are the leaders, rounding a turn on the uphill climb.



Next stop, Charlottetown, PEI, where my hubby and I rode a horse-drawn conveyance (park benches screwed onto a flatbed) around town and toured historic Beaconsfield House. The horses are Belgians; the one on the right is a former show horse embarking on a new career in tourism.

Visiting Le Jardin Botanique

If you're not into flowers, if you're not a gardener -- you might just want to stop now. This post is about my visit to le Jardin Botanique de Montreal.

I went there hoping to see some of the things I miss growing in the Bay Area, where it's not cold enough for lilacs and peonies. I don't miss winter, but I do miss some of the favorite blooms of my youth.

In turns out I also missed most of the lilacs: it was too late in the season, and too late in day for much fragrance from those few still left in bloom. But the iris and peonies were in full bloom. And, oh my, what peonies! I'd never seen yellow peonies before and these were enormous, luscious blooms, some with contrasting reddish centers. Beds and beds of peonies, in maroon, red, rose, coral, pink and white...peonies to die for!

In the rose garden, most of the hybrid teas still looked scraggly: clumps of leafed-out sticks with fat buds promising harlot blooms in another month or so. But my favorites -- the antiques and the David Austin roses -- were blooming. Austin's Mary Rose was pretty in pink, lush and fragrant, much better than she ever looked in my former garden in Tennessee, where blackspot and mildew took its toll.

After two hours of wandering through the gardens, I was footsore and weary and headed for the exit. On my way out, I asked a garden official in a passing golf cart for the location of the nearest recycling bin, so I could unload my soda bottle before heading to the Metro station. We chatted a moment, and I mentioned my disappointment at missing the lilacs. He asked if I'd seen the rhododendrons. No, I replied, they were a little too far out for me to walk to today. "I could get you there in five minutes," he said.

How could I refuse? It turned out that my "chauffeur," Pierre Paradise, is head of security at the garden. And he was right -- the rhodos were worth a trip.

Anarachy, art and hope

I started the week in San Francisco, touring the Mission's murals with a friend. I ended the week taking pictures of peonies in full bloom dans le Jardin Bontanique de Montreal. (Look for some of those pics in a future post.)

Yes, it was a good week, my first real week off from school. Here are some highlights of my Mission mural walk:

This mural, painted on a garage door in Balmy Ave., is a tribute to women artists. Frida, I recognized, but not the rest.






Across the alley is this compelling portrait. That's my friend Nancy coming face to face with it.
















The next mural, it turns out, illustrates an apocalyptic poem by William Butler Yeats:

...Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world...

(here's where I cut out some of the gratuitously gory parts...to get to these lines, which have always seemed to me to speak of politics and religion...especially in combination)

The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

Anyway, I like this mural's colorful bugs (the proverbial cockroaches, mayhaps?) crawling around the scattered grey (oh, no, are we all dead?) human forms. Instead of "The Second Coming," let's just call this one "After Global Warming."

I hate to end on such a down note, so let me close with something more hopeful. While viewing the murals, we met these lively 8th graders on a field trip. Their teachers at St. Paul's Epicopal in Oakland had asked them to pick a mural and write about its message. They described this one as "Breaking the chains of oppression."
















Here they are, getting into character with the mural: Nicholas Piucci, Emily Nguyen, Rafa Moraga, Bruce Lien and Max "Cool Kid" Ornstil.

Power to the people!

Twittering around

Lately I've been using Twitter, that short-form (140 characters or less) cross between blogging and instant messaging.

I don't post that many "tweets" myself; I mostly use it to keep track of some colleagues and former students. But I'm finding it interesting to see how others are using it.

For example, I see people using Twitter to:

• Keep in touch with friends and colleagues
  
• Promote themselves or their latest blog posts, videos, podcasts
  
• Pass on breaking news, or to link to interesting items they've found on the web
• Request information or assistance
• Network

Here's a new wrinkle: One of my former students, a newly minted grad, is using Twitter as part of his job search (see below). He's already gotten one helpful plug. I hope networking on Twitter helps him find a job.












PS: Here's a link to Kyle Hansen's resume.


PS2: You can find me on Twitter at http://twitter.com/cynmc...or read my latest tweets in the sidebar of this blog.

PS3: Here's another recent post I wrote about Twitter -- A Twitter shout out? -- on one of my class blogs.

PS4: If you're interested in Twitter, you should also check out Twitterific, a fun Twitter application for Macs, and tinyurl.com.

Older and wiser? (we hope)

Losing words, forgetting names and numbers...ah, the annoyances of middle age. But it may not signal the onset of memory loss. Instead, it may indicate a change in memory function, and a transition to a wider focus.

As noted in this NYT article on the older brain:

“A broad attention span may enable older adults to ultimately know more about a situation and the indirect message of what’s going on than their younger peers,” Dr. Hasher said. “We believe that this characteristic may play a significant role in why we think of older people as wiser.”

Could be good news for someone who's about to turn 55.

Time out

For those of us who don't have enough to do (and those who prefer to procrastinate), there's...

• Graphic fun at Colorflip.com: Just put your cursor at any corner, and drag.
• Musical fun at last.fm.com with The Accidental's new CD, There Were Wolves, my latest find.

I know, I know...I should be grading. Later.

One more reason to get a Mac

Thinking of lifting that laptop? If it's a Mac, better think again!

As one of my students put it, " Haha -- this is another reason why Macs rule!"

(Thanks for the link, Carlos.)

Heat wave brings on tabouli

It's not even summer yet and it hit 93 today. After a mostly cool spring, going outside is like stepping into a sauna.

It is still fairly cool inside the house, and I want to keep it that way...so cooking is out. I am making tabouli.

I used to be afraid of using too much parsley. If a tabouli recipe called for a cup or more of chopped parsley, I would think it was an insane amount and cut it in half...and wonder why I ended up with dull tabouli.

Then I had a side of tabouli at a local Mediterranean restaurant. I was shocked to see it contained more parsley than bulghur. I took a small bite, dubious, and got a shock. It was fabulous! Green and earthy, tart and lemony. Yum. It was a taste bud epiphany.

So I have adjusted my approach. More parsley, much more parsley. Chop chop.

My tabouli is chilling, marinating, blending its flavors. And I am getting hungry.