Chapter 58.8: Set Up?

The following is complete speculation: I can't help but wonder whether the flap about Sen. Webb's assistant being caught carrying a concealed weapon -- reportedly for the senator -- stems from someone setting Webb up. It just sounds like the old tactics of hitting a political rival; remember that Webb offered the Democrats' response to President Bush's State of the Union and was generally regarded as offering an excellent counter to the call for seemingly endless funding of the unpopular war. It's been three months, which is usually more than enough shelf life for U.S. political stories in the minds of most Americans. Somehow, I don't think this is a simple whoops.

Chapter 58.75: Wake Up Computer!

I don't expect the world to follow my schedule, but I do expect my accessories in life to do what they're supposed to do. So I was kinda pissed this morning when my laptop decided that it needed to wait until its user had two cups of coffee before it would work at a decent speed. I don't know about these recalcitrant contraptions. I know it needs to do a virus scan every once in a while, but dammit, it's 7:15 a.m. and I need the computer to work with a tired user. Why is it moving so frigging slow?!

An hour and a couple restarts later, the thing is back to its old self. I can't say the same for me.

Chapter 58.6: Cold Spring

I've railed about it before -- too much, I suspect -- but winter is supposed to get warmer as it approaches spring. Here it is, the first full day of spring, and I find myself toying with the thermostat and standing in the shower a little longer under the warm stream. It's freezing!

Last night, before I went to bed, I checked what the temperature was supposed to be -- to make sure the case of beer left over from St. Patrick's Day wouldn't explode in the porch. Needless to say, the beer came inside. I'm sure that in a couple weeks the temperatures will be above 45 consistently and the sunshine in the evening will enable me to jog before dinner and enjoy a bit more of the day.

But for now, damn! it's cold outside.

Chapter 58.5: The Language of Humanity

Every major newspaper is leading with the Kaleid Sheikh Mohammed "confession" about his planning of the 9/11 attacks and as many as thirty other terrorist strikes. The account is chilling, and I was especially struck by a quote he gave. He felt sorry, he said, for the deaths of children. But he added, "The language of war is victims."

I contrast that with a freelance piece I'm working on about refugees. It's in the very early stages of initial interviews, but one comment of a subject who escaped from Vietnam was especially compelling for me. I'm purposely not developing its context here, but the statement is interesting in its poignancy. "Without hope, there is no point in living."

The victims of war who survive soldier on. They live, build new lives and new hopes. The language of war may be victims, but the language of humanity is perseverence.

Chapter 58.4: Strong in Addition

This is good to see. The ExxonMobil Corporation (through its foundation) has pledged $125 million to a math and science initiative to improve the advanced placement courses of those subjects and to train more teachers. Plus, they're "expecting" more corporations and foundations to pony up some cash. This usually means they know it's going to happen and enough time will pass to let those other groups garner some accolades for themselves. In my opinion (based on no actual conversations), I'd be surprised if we didn't see a major grant awarded by the Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation. Bill Gates has been outspoken for the need for more and better training in math and science. Here's to hoping it happens.

Chapter 58.314159: Good Math

Recently, the Seattle Post-Intelligencer posted a commentary calling for a commitment to emphasizing math in the schools. This call is certainly necessary, and long overdue. However, my pessimism may be getting the better of me. I'm not sure we can expect much. As the commentary states, we need better professional development of teachers, with a goal of training them to be more confident in their role. This takes time. No time like the present to start, but I think what we need to do is get math into more subjects; find where math fits into the history class, perhaps. Or make the examples in math class more accessible to kids: you have 500 songs on your iPod, what percentage of the memory is still available for more songs?

I'm not convinced the math block for many students is due to the subject matter. I think a big part of the problem is that math isn't cool. Maybe each student can have a team in a free fantasy league; each kid must keep their team under a salary cap. Work the numbers.

Easy for me to say -- I'm not teaching. Students who are bored are potentially disruptive, and one of the major challenges for education is classroom management. It takes more than teachers who are confident in their abilities to teach math, it takes teachers who are enthusiastic about teaching -- period. That involves a strong educational environment, a supportive administration, etc.

I'm all for emphasizing math, and I agree with Seattle -- home of the Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation -- being at the vanguard of a movement. But this will be a long slog, and the kids will need to see the light at the end of the tunnel. Kids don't implicitly care that the United States' position as an economic leader is imperiled without better math, science, and engineering education. They want to know what it means to them. Once that's been solved, you'll find more eager children.

Chapter 58.25: Once Bitten

Got an odd post to this blog earlier today. Apparently, my details of the minutest of trivia impressed (or irritated) someone enough for them to clip it and post it on their site, which is called A Hapless Archive of the Blogosphere. I'm not really sure how I feel about that, but what can you do? It's like repeating someone else's conversation you overheard in a bar. We're all here in the public domain, so if you can't deal with it, leave.

On the other hand, the moment that this person plucked -- or "bit," as they call it (blogbiting) -- was a funny moment I'd observed. And by spreading it out to another blog (which seems to have about as many visitors as mine), it elevates that mundane moment to ... hell, who am I kidding? it's still mundane.

Lord knows, if this person feels like finding more moments of complete trivia, my blog is filled with them. They're the moments of a day that for some reason I feel should be remembered; but I know I'd probably forget about them otherwise. I guess it's human nature to collect trivia. Lord knows I've seen it enough in other people and myself. Blogbiting seems like just another example. Let's see how long it takes to gather dust.

Chapter 58.2: Five Pages

I picked up a book recently that looks like it'll be a big help to me and other aspiring writers. It's called The First Five Pages by Noah Lukeman, who is a literary agent. (Full disclosure: I don't get a damn thing from that plug.)

Though I found it on the discount rack at Barnes & Noble, a better description is "bargain." I've read enough books filled with tips on how to hone your prose and sell it to the right people to move you on the career path to poverty (we write because we love it!), but this book is different. His tips are more practical and matter-of-fact. For example, look at every place you use more than one adjective or (God forbid) adverb; decide which is the most pertinent and cut the other one. Sure, you'll lose a little description from time to time, but most likely you were writing with too much anyway, so let it go. And the exercises are helpful too. From the chapter on adjectives and adverbs, use the first page of your manuscript and identify every adjective and adverb on the page. Now read the page without them. Clearer? Are some of them necessary? Now read the words you removed. Are they commonplace and cliche? Improve or remove. I'm concising his already tight description, but the point is clear.

This book may well leap to the top of my list of most helpful books for writers working on their manuscript, and I'll pass it along to my friends who write. Anyone with other suggestions -- and why you suggest it -- feel free to comment!

Chapter 58.1: Dice-K and Other Baseball Questions

As I shiver to generate a little warmth in my body, I'm thinking about how this baseball season might evolve. Will the Mets pitching staff show its old age, or will it demonstrate the revitalizing power of youth? In other words, is this the year either or both Tom Glavine and El Duque fall on their baseball-old butts, or will young pitchers like Mike Pelfrey or Philip Humber or even John Maine or Oliver Perez light a fire under everyone's ass and lead the team to the division title once again?

Will headline writers start calling Japanese import Diasuke Matsuzaka "Dice Clay" instead of "Dice K" -- meaning, will he have legs of clay that can't stand up to the rigors of major league baseball. My prediction: he'll start the season 7-2 or 8-1 and make the All-Star team -- possibly even start it -- but in the second half, hitters will figure him out and he'll struggle.

Will there be love in Pittsburgh? Isn't it time for the baseball gods to be kind to this decrepit franchise? This city supports the Penguins because they keep trying, but that club might end up in Las Vegas. If the Pirates can put together an early winning streak, the city might get over the changes in its financial leadership (as Mellon Bank merges with the Bank of New York) and pay attention to a team that could surprise people.

How long will Lou Piniella last? I think he's got a season and a half -- tops! Assuming that they don't make the playoffs this year after spending oodles of cash for stars like Alfonso Soriano, Piniella will get a month or two into next season -- the official century mark since the team's last World Series victory -- before he'll be summarily bounced. Good luck, Lou. Chicago's a wonderful city, and you'd make a pretty strong Hall of Fame candidate if you could win your second championship as a manager there.

Chapter 58: Owen Meany

I'm rereading A Prayer for Owen Meany by John Irving; I've not read it for about 15 years. While I'd forgotten most of the details of the story, I know basically what happens. I remember feeling quite amazed, the first time I read it, at how well Irving wove all the various parts into the surprising climax; even now, I'm startled at some of the clever ways Irving conveyed the characters and made them seem completely real.

I'll have more to say, I suspect, about Owen -- I intend to include a review on my Elephant's Bookshelf blog -- but if I don't get around to that and you're looking for a good book to read, give this one a try. In a nutshell, it's about a very small boy who does great things and leaves an impression chiseled into the memories of everyone he's known. Even those who are dwindling into dementia recall him and especially HIS VOICE, WHICH COMES FROM A THROAT THAT IS STUCK IN A PERMANENT SCREAM. Owen was also an opinion writer during high school. I wonder if he'd have had a blog if he were a teenager today rather than in the early '60s. But the most important element of this tale is religion.

Owen develops a sense that he is an instrument of God; by the end of the story it's clear that he was right. Without spoiling it for those few out there who've not read it (come on, the book's been in print since 1989!), I'll say that even people who don't believe in God will find the story engaging. The joy of this book is in the discovery. It has everything a reader wants: strongly developed characters that the reader can picture and relate to; a compelling story that keeps the pages moving; snippets of both sex and baseball (what story would be complete without them?); and clever ways to piss off the establishment. Throw in some armless symbols and tragic beauty and loads of idealism, and you've got yourself a winner.

Oh yeah, there's also a lot of semicolons; it wouldn't be quite the same without the semicolons.

Chapter 57.8: Monday Monday

I strive to remain upbeat. After a beautiful weekend that ended with a drop in temperatures and predictions of snow, I enter the week with much to do and a sense of foreboding. Tonight, I'll attend an event created by my alma mater -- bringing "media professionals" like myself together with students. I'm looking forward to it, but I don't really know what to expect. And the things that I didn't get to finish this weekend remain stacked on my agenda like books beside my bed, waiting to be read. It's Monday, and many miles to go before I sleep.

Chapter 57.5: A Good Weekend

It's not even noon yet, and already I feel like I've had a fantastic weekend. There's much I still need to do. Eat breakfast, go to the supermarket, jog, help my brother move some stuff in his house. But rare weekends like this, where I actually have two days that I can use, become precious.

This morning, before we got out of bed, I read another thirty pages or so of Lisey's Story by Stephen King. This is the book that actually appears to have had an editor touch it, and it's an improvement over many of his recent novels. My wife is struggling through Cell, which she says takes 110 pages to describe what could easily have been accomplished in less than half that amount. I've not read it, but when a devoted reader like my wife starts skimming her favorite author, you can be sure there's problems with the story. As for Lisey, the novel took about seventy pages to get to the real threat, but he took that time to cast out a few other story lines related to the characters. I respect King's love of the craft, even though he irritates me with his that/which problems.

So, dear reader, you see that for me a good weekend needn't be all sun and shine and lunar eclipse. Sometimes it can be simply a warm bed, a cup or two of coffee, and a book to read. At least until the baseball season starts.

Chapter 57.4: Spring!

That darn groundhog may have been right! As I was taking the garbage to the curb last night -- dodging raindrops -- I smelled it. Spring! It was in the air. There was a sweetness I'd almost forgotten. No, not the garbage. Before I even grabbed the green can and dragged that dripping tub to the road, I smelled the distinct aroma of life and energy emerging from dormancy. It enlivened me. I got a woody. (No, not really. I thought it would be funny.) And with the weather forecast saying there'll be warmth after the torrent of rain that I went to work in this morning, I couldn't help but feel that today will be a good day. Thank God, and thank that varmint from Pennsylvania.

Chapter 57.3: Just a Fantasy

Another year, another baseball season. Today I selected my keepers for my fantasy baseball team, which I play against guys from work. The first spring training games have started in Florida and Arizona, and I'm starting to feel the annual baseball fever take hold of me. I haven't studied players statistics to determine who I want to shoot for in our draft next weekend, but I probably will devote some time to it this year.

Despite all the steroid problems and the outlandish salaries, baseball remains a beautiful game. I still enjoy watching high school games and various levels of Little League. Hopefully, I'll umpire a few games on weekends this year. I believe that no matter how old I get, there'll still be a part of me that remains young and in love with the sport, like it's my first girlfriend. (Damn, we had fun!) Perhaps, when I hit 80, I'll have had enough, but I doubt it.