Patti Smith :: Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame Inductee

I never thought that punk poet/rebel Patti Smith would make it through the lingering misogyny of the music establishment to be honored by the Hall. Last night, at age 60, she accepted with grace and humility, performing with power and passion.

Smith's raw, angry style, seemingly in-your-face lyrics with their surprising subtlety of meaning, and refusal to doll herself up in the "girl group" tradition of were so inspiring to me when I was a young woman coming of age at the height of the Feminist Movement. I even went through one summer - thankfully only one - with unshaven armpits, inspired by her Easter album cover. I'm frankly glad that she lived to see the day that she was inducted into the Hall. I remember rushing from my secretarial job at CBS Records to the the Wollman Rink in NY in the summer of 1977, arriving breathless, just in time to see her carried out, unconscious, before the show ever began. She lived life her way, all the way, in those days.

And then she retired to be a mom, raising two children with MC5 guitarist Fred "Sonic" Smith (their son played rhythm guitar with his mom onstage last night).

Fifteen years ago, in the weeks while we were waiting for our own daughter to be born, Chris and I made a complilation of the best, most accessible rock songs we could think of, titled "Songs to Sing with Julia." It was to be our baby's introduction to rock 'n' roll, and it was our way of declaring that we weren't going inflict insipid "kiddie music" on our child. Rather, we would respect her intelligence and introduce to her to quality music right from the outset. The playlist began with John Lennon's "Julia" (of course) and ended with Patti Smith's "People Have the Power."

It is not her best composition, but I have always loved "People Have the Power" as an anthem for how I aspire to live my own life. And, I was always intrigued that from this dark, often angry writer came lyrics which were inspired by The Beatitudes (....Blessed are the poor, for theirs is the kingdom of Heaven....blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called the children of God.....etc ). Thinking about it again today, I shouldn't have been surprised at the reference. The Beatitudes, which were the opening lines from Christ's powerful "Sermon on the Mount," were designed to shock. He got his audience's attention by going completely against the prevailing belief system, describing the "citizens of heaven" as the poor, the weak, and the helpless. That instinct, to push the envelope in pursuit of social commentary, is Patti Smith's MO. Who else could have come up with the title "Rock and Roll Nigger" as a way of expressing the isolation of the visionary?

Although it is nineteen years old, "People Have the Power" holds up both as a song and as a call to action. Its timeless relevance speaks to why this fierce yet fragile artist was inducted into the Hall of Fame last night.

PEOPLE HAVE THE POWER
I was dreaming in my dreaming
of an aspect bright and fair
and my sleeping it was broken
but my dream it lingered near
in the form of shining valleys
where the pure air recognized
and my senses newly opened
I awakened to the cry
that the people / have the power
to redeem / the work of fools
upon the meek / the graces show
it's decreed / the people rule.

The people have the power
The people have the power
The people have the power
The people have the power

Vengeful aspects became suspect
and bending low as if to hear
and the armies ceased advancing
because the people had their ear
and the shepherds and the soldiers
lay beneath the stars
exchanging visions
and laying arms
to waste / in the dust
in the form of / shining valleys
where the pure air / recognized
and my senses / newly opened
I awakened to the cry

REFRAIN

Where there were deserts
I saw fountains
like cream the waters rise
and we strolled there together
with none to laugh or criticize
and the leopard
and the lamb
lay together truly bound
I was hoping in my hoping
to recall what I had found
I was dreaming in my dreaming
god knows / a purer view
as I surrender to my sleeping
I commit my dream to you

REFRAIN

The power to dream / to rule
to wrestle the world from fools
it's decreed the people rule
it's decreed the people rule
LISTEN
I believe everything we dream
can come to pass thru our union
we can turn the world around
we can turn the earth's revolution
we have the power
People have the power......

Lyrics © 1988 Druse Music/Stratium Music, Inc.

The Vanguard of Citizen Journalism

In a week when it is being reported here in the U.S. that an item on a blog (The Drudge Report) had enough impact to trigger a sell-off and resulting 400-point drop in the Dow Jones Industrial Average, it is interesting to see this story coming out of the U.K.

Citizen journalists are gaining broader exposure every day. It remains to be seen how that will affect the depth and quality of the information we are receiving, but it certainly is an exciting time for information junkies like myself!

Opie unveils user-generated vision for Five News
By Jules Grant
7 Mar 2007
© C21 Media 2007

The new content chief at UK terrestrial Five has outlined her future strategy for the channel, including a major overhaul of Five News, saying she wants it to be in "the vanguard of citizen journalism." Speaking at a Royal Television Society event last night, the RTL-owned channel's new MD of content Lisa Opie said that its news service would be "radically relaunched," putting user-generated service Your News at its heart. The service, which already allows viewers to send in their own filmed reports and suggestions for stories, will now "sit at the heart of what we do," she said.

Referring to news anchor Kirsty Young perching on the edge of her desk – a gimmick that prompted a raft of copycats in the 1990s – Opie said: "In the same way Five News redefined news when it launched 10 years ago I want it now to be in the vanguard of citizen journalism with more direct input from viewers. "We will integrate our news and talk programming across the day and we will be passionate and campaigning on viewers' behalf."

Other new highlights included the creation of MySpace pages for all of the commissioning team, where viewers will be able to pitch ideas and engage in a "direct dialogue" with the channel. "These pages will be promoted on air and on our website, giving viewers, for the first time, a direct line of communication with the people who make the decisions about the programmes they see," she said.

Reading Your Brain: The future of gaming? �

Check out this device, called Project Epoc. It is an electroencephalograph cap designed as an input device for video games, and will be introduced at next week's Game Developer's Conference. The manufacturer, Emotiv, claims that the sensors which come in contact with the user's scalp will allow machines to take both conscious and non-conscious inputs directly from your mind. So, for example, your avatar might look startled and recoil before you even realize that is what you are feeling. Pretty intriguing when you think about the impact in an environment like Second Life. Also a little eerie.

I have been reading the book "What Video Games Have to Teach us About Learning and Literacy" by the pre-eminent researcher Jim Gee, Amazon.com:James Paul Gee in which he argues that the designers of the most challenging and engaging video games should be recognized as modern masters of learning theory, since they create experiences that although deeply frustrating, are also intensely engaging and fulfilling for the player. He also suggests that learning and literacy do not happen in the abstract, but are deeply grounded in human social experience. I'd have to think that he is going to be first in line to try out this technology!
More details at Mind control: The future of gaming? � Neurophilosophy

Birds Plan for the future �

Love this post from the Neurophilosophy blog, on a recent article in Nature reporting that although we would like to believe that only human beings can think ahead, Western Scrub Jays appear to have the same ability. Having sat on a deck in the Big Sur last week, watching this Steller's Jay sidle in and size up his food snatching opportunities, I can't say I'm surprised!

Birds plan for the future � Neurophilosophy

Josep Cisquella - Barcelonian Painter

I wandered into the Trajan Gallery in Carmel and found two captivating, mixed media paintings by Spanish painter Josep Cisquella. Odd as it may sound, he works with shadows - giving presence to 3D objects with just a suggestion. Absolutely wonderful. This link is to his online cataglogue - you'll see what I mean.
Josep Cisquella | Trajan Gallery | Carmel

Frightening Power of the NRA

I think we have officially lost our minds. The stunning force of this onslaught in support of Americans' right to own and hunt with assault rifles is mind-boggling.

Even Time, Inc. (the corporate parent of the Outdoor Life magazine) is cowed by the National Rifle Association. Click on this link to read the story.

Gun remark kills outdoorsman's career -
washingtonpost.com

Giant squid dazzles prey with fireworks �

Giant squid dazzles prey with fireworks � - Neurophilosophy Journal

You have to check out these little bits of video, recorded by Japanese researchers. It looks like animation but it is not. It is a giant squid, in action under the sea. Amazing.

The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the source of all art and science. He to whom this emotion is a stranger, who can no longer pause to wonder and stand rapt in awe, is as good as dead.. his eyes are closed. ::: Albert Einstein :::

DJ - R.I.P.

Dennis Johnson, the great NBA guard, passed today.

I've always loved this quote from him, about playing in big games:
“I hate to lose,” he once said. “I accept it when it comes, but I still hate it. That’s the way I am.”

Additionally, this afternoon, I was very surprised to see how the news of his death played out on the Internet. My homepage is msnbc.com, and there was a "Breaking News" headline reporting his death, without any details. I quickly clicked on cnn.com and espn.com, neither of which anything except the headline. While I waited, I wondered how old DJ was, and decided to check Wikipedia. Amazingly, his bio there was already updated, including the date and likely cause of his death, attributed to Danny Ainge.

We are only beginning to understand the implications of this era of user choice and control, when basketball fans don't need to wait for the vertically integrated media conglomerates to report the news, because they can do it themselves. This is a very signifcant time in the development of media and how it is integrated into our lives.

Small Town Democracy & Freedom of the Press

I live in the Hudson Highlands, in a community that embodies the phrase "small town." There are many advantages to living in a place where everyone knows you and the sense of community is strong. There are disadvantages, too - particularly when it comes to local politics.

We have a new editor at the town newspaper, The Cornwall Local, and I have been watching with interest as she has been subjected to various intimidation tactics by the local pols. Finally, I wrote this letter to the editor, which is being published in tomorrow's edition.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
To the Editor:

I was surprised to read that an elected official in the Town of Cornwall moved to decommission The Local as the official town newspaper, apparently in reaction to critical editorial coverage of the Town Board’s process in selecting a new police chief.

Editor Margaret Menge is doing a journalist’s job, reporting the facts on the front page and expressing her own viewpoint on the editorial page. Though our Board may not be happy with her questioning of their decision-making, it seems to me that the citizens of Cornwall have been well-served by her reporting of the process employed in picking a new chief.

President Bush has similar problems with the Washington Post and most likely views them with equal distaste, but he is wise enough not to forbid the paper access to his office. Our free press is a cornerstone of true democracy, as immortalized in 1789 by our Founding Fathers when they wrote and passed the Bill of Rights. Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.

The ultimate statement on the freedom of the press comes from our founding rascal, Benjamin Franklin, who stirred up all sorts of controversy with his printing press in the early days of the Revolution. His famous editorial, “Apology for Printers,” stated: Printers are educated in the belief that when men differ in opinion, both sides ought equally to have the advantage of being heard by the public; and that when Truth and Error have fair play, the former is always an overmatch for the latter.

Franklin also wrote: Whoever would overthrow the Liberty of a Nation must begin by subduing the Freeness of Speech.

We should support The Cornwall Local, and urge our editor to do the most thorough and in-depth reporting that she can with the resources that she has. Then, finally, it is up to us as citizens to read, be informed, ask questions, form opinions, and ultimately, to vote. Then, and only then, are we fulfilling our obligations as citizens of this model (if messy) democracy.

(signed)
Liz Nealon

Journey's End: Powerful WWI Drama Packs a Punch

Journey's End, the story of six British soldiers posted to the front line in WWI, opens tonight on Broadway. This revival was a hit in London's West End, and I have no doubt that it will perform similarly in New York.

The entire play takes place in a candlelit bunker as the young officers talk about rugby, cricket, and other trivial matters, staving off fear and dread as they await a major assault by the Germans, who are in their own trenches only 70 yards away. The cast is outstanding, with a particularly fine performance by Tony Award-winning actor Boyd Gaines in the role of Lieutenant Osborne. The ensemble also features the handsome young actor Hugh Dancy (tipped as the “next Orlando Bloom”) as the alcoholic, deeply conflicted, ultimately tragic Captain Stanhope. I entered the theater expecting to see a sad story about the war's terrible toll in human lives, and it was certainly that. There was no perfunctory, empty Broadway standing ovation at the conclusion of this performance. The audience remained seated, first offering hesitant, then resolute, weeping applause as the actor/soldiers stood at attention in front of a wall of names of the British war dead.

Journey's End was first produced in London in 1928, just ten years after the end of the war. The current director's notes describe the difficulty that the unknown writer, R.C. Sherriff (who went on to write classics like Goodbye, Mr. Chips), had in getting the play produced. Similar to our own feelings about 9/11, the British public felt that the subject was still too raw and painful to address in the theater. This was understandable, given that Britain had endured 700,000 deaths with another three million injured. The play was first presented simply as a staged reading in London, featuring an unknown young actor named Laurence Olivier in the leading role. Current director David Grindley writes that "despite a tremendous reaction by press and public alike," it was an uphill battle to get a commercial producer to mount a full production. Journey’s End finally opened on January 21, 1929 to poor advance ticket sales, gradually building an audience by word of mouth. By the end of the year, there were fourteen productions in English, including one on Broadway, and seventeen more in translation around Europe. The play, rather than exacerbating the pain of the post-WWI era, proved to be a cathartic experience.

Director Grindley, who also directed the 2004 London revival, has done a wonderful job with Journey’s End, which makes a powerful statement about loyalty, duty, and personal sacrifice in the face of overwhelming odds.

Journey’s End is playing at the Belasco Theater, 111 West 44th Street, New York, NY. Running time 2 hours and 35 minutes, including one 15-minute intermission. May be inappropriate for children 12 and under.

Rebecca Darlington opens in Chelsea

Agora Gallery - Rebecca Darlington
Don't miss this exhibit opening on Feb 22 - the first time painter Rebecca Darlington is showing in NYC. I own three of her paintings (as well as the pair of high heels featured in one of the paintings in this exhibition!), and am a big fan of her work.

(From the Press Release): Sunny afternoons and barefoot splashes in the water; the sescenes of simple pleasures are a reflection of Rebecca Darlington's love of the good life. Her paintings display joyful color and brushwork, but are further compelling because of the romantic subtext, often focusing on youthful wonder and sublime comforts.

Darlington's paintings will be on display from February 20 to March 13 at Agora Gallery, 530 West 25th Street, Chelsea, New York. Opening hours: 11am-6pm. The opening reception takes place tonight from 6-8 PM.

Singing Renaissance Music this summer

I am so tickled - I received my acceptance today into the Tallis Scholars Summer School, being held at Seattle University in late July. Tallis Scholars Summer Schools, Renaissance choral music

The Tallis Singers are one of the premiere recording groups focused on Renaissance music, and I am so looking forward to training with their members, working with other singers on Palestrina (featured at this summer's workshop), and being conducted by artistic director Peter Phillips. Honestly, I can't think of a vacation that sounds like more fun than singing eight hours a day! Very exciting.

The Gospel according to Julia

Today in church the Gospel was Luke 9.28-37, the famous story in which Peter and the disciples go with Jesus up on the mountain to pray. They look up from their prayers and see Christ talking to the prophets Moses & Elijah. Peter, frightened but trying to be helpful, says "Lord, shall I prepare three tents, one for each of you?" Suddenly, the sky splits open and the voice of God speaks to them from a cloud.

I always smile to myself when I hear this dramatic story, because of what happened when I read it aloud with my daughter Jules when she was little. Trying to be as expressive as possible, I boomed in a voice that I hoped sounded like God coming from the heavens: "This is my Son. My Chosen One. Listen to Him." Without missing a beat, Jules quipped "Would you like me to make that FOUR tents?"

She makes me smile, every day.

Turkeys!

A yard full of wild turkeys (15, to be exact, plus some assorted deer). This is the view outside my window as I sit here writing, post-winter storm.



posted from my mobile phone

Iraqis on the Run: What the World can Do

As I have written here previously, I visited a preschool in the East Amman neighborhood in which Iraqi refugees are housed. Jordanian resources are strained to the limit, housing prices have gone through the roof, and since Iraqi refugees are not allowed to work in Jordan, there is no end in sight to this situation. The U.N. estimates that there are 2 million refugees in the region, with at least that number displaced inside Iraq, as well.

This editorial from the Christian Science Monitor suggests that the U.S. and the U.K. bear responsibility for helping to address the refugee dilemma. We have a long way to go. Since the war begain, a grand total of 466 Iraqis have been admitted to the U.S. as refugees (State Department report at a Senate Hearing in January). In 2007, the U.S. plans to allow 7000. In the meantime, there are many U.S. citizens of Iraqi descent who are desperately trying to get their family members to a safe place where they can work, put their children in school, recommence normal living as responsible citizens. We need a policy around this, and we need it now.

Iraqis on the run: what the world can do | csmonitor.com

Challenges to Palestinian Unity

The following piece is written by my colleague Daoud Kuttab, a Palestinian journalist and the Director of the Institute of
Modern Media at Al Quds University in Ramallah. It is a particularly insightful overview of all the challenges facing the Palestinian people....in particular, his explanation of how and why the indomitable spirit of Palestinian unity that we so long admired has broken into self-directed violence and despair.

UNITY GOVERNMENT IS ONLY THE FIRST STEP FOR PALESTINE
by Daoud Kuttab
Copyright 2007: Project Syndicate


The reconciliation between the leaders of the two major Palestinian
groups, Hamas and Fatah, that has just been negotiated in Saudi
Arabia is being hailed as a major political breakthrough.

But the national unity government created as a result of this
agreement faces many daunting challenges. The agreement needs to be
followed by an effort to end the economic and administrative siege
of Palestine, as well as serious peace talks with Israel aimed at
ending the 39-year occupation of the West Bank and Gaza Strip. At
home, the new government needs to pay its civil servants, restore
law and order, and end the chaos that has become the norm in the
Palestinian territories.

The internal fighting in Palestine began in part as a result of the
political impasse caused after Israel and the international
community imposed an economic embargo on the Palestinian Authority. This economic siege, zealously enforced even by Arab and Islamic banks, followed the new Hamas-led government's refusal to accept the demand by the "quartet" - the United States, the European Union, the United Nations and Russia - that it recognise Israel, accept all previous agreements with Israel, and renounce terrorism.

Palestinians complained that the international community acted
unjustly, simply because they were unhappy with the result of a free
and fair election in the Palestinian territories, which Hamas won
overwhelmingly. The government created after the January 2006
elections has been unable to pay civil servants because of the
international banking blockade and the refusal of Israel to transfer
millions of tax dollars collected on behalf of the Palestinian
people.

After months without pay, the government, headed by Hamas' Ismael
Haniyeh, was confronted with a serious challenge in September, when
civil servants went on strike, demanding to be paid. The differences
between the Fatah-led presidency of Mahmoud Abbas and Hamas'
Islamist government spilled into the streets. Threats by Abbas to
hold elections to resolve the deadlock seemed to add oil to the fire.

With unemployment rising, income dropping to record low levels, and
internal tensions escalating, fighting between supporters of Hamas
and Fatah began. Attempts to reconcile the parties began in Gaza,
before moving to Cairo, Damascus, and finally Mecca under the
supervision of Saudi King Abdullah, whose country has been a
financial backer of the Palestinians for decades.

One of the first challenges for the new government will be to
convince the international community that it respects previous
Palestinian agreements. This includes the mutual recognition agreed
by the PLO and Israel, as well as the Oslo Accords. By announcing
the acceptance of previous agreements and supporting the Arab peace
initiative, the new government should be able to bring economic
normalcy to the cash-strapped Palestinian Authority.

Money, however, is not the only need. The cease-fire understanding
between Palestinian factions and Israel will need to be honoured
through the commitment of both sides and a parallel political
process. The international community, especially the US, is giving
verbal support to launching serious Palestinian-Israeli talks, and
the Mecca Agreement paves the way for Abbas to negotiate an end to
the occupation. This will test the resolve of Israel and the
international community to achieve tangible progress on restarting
negotiations.

But the newly established national unity government faces yet
another daunting challenge. If resumption of political violence and
property destruction is to be avoided, a new internal security
policy will be needed. The numerous militias, groups, gangs and
individuals who own and use weapons must be controlled. The new
unity government must insist on the creation of a single, united
armed force.

In order to end lawlessness, the Palestinian security leadership
will need to lift the protection given to armed individuals who have
been using their weapons with impunity to injure, kill, and destroy
property. Indeed, law and order must be the top priority of the
unity government, owing to the need to restore the Palestinian
public's confidence in Palestinian leaders from all factions.

The past year has been one of the most difficult years in modern
Palestinian history. For years, the world envied the Palestinian
people's strong social fibre, as they held together despite the
occupation. With a strong sense of national identity, Palestinians
boasted that they had a clear unifying purpose: ending the Israeli
occupation and establishing an independent and democratic state.

But the recent months of infighting have left a deep wound among
Palestinians. If that wound is to heal, much effort must be exerted
to restore a functioning economy, strengthen internal security, and
improve Palestinians' relations with their neighbours and the
international community.

Daoud Kuttab

Legacy Media - Doth Protest Too Much?

CNN.com: The demise of old media is greatly exaggerated - Feb. 14, 2007

At the Kidscreen Media Conference last week, a number of colleagues and I were discussing the hyper-critical coverage of children's media in the traditional print press. One executive suggested that print writers are threatened by digital media, and bring that bias to their coverage.

It reminded me of a quote that I've always loved from David Lee Roth, back when he was the lead singer of Van Halen. Roth said: Do you know why music critics write glowing reviews about Elvis Costello? Because music critics LOOK like Elvis Costello.

The person I read on the topic of digital/social media is Mary Hodder, founder of dabble.com. She is a big thinker.
Mary Hodder: Napsterization

Language Log: The barrage against "Barack"

Language Log: The barrage against "Barack"

Mandaean Emergency in Iraq

Mandaean Emergency in Iraq

Time to begin 'adapting' to climate change?

Time to begin 'adapting' to climate change? | csmonitor.com
"The reality is that we should be adaptin and tackling carbon-dioxide emissions at the same time," notes Roger Pielke Jr., a science-policy specialist at the University of Colorado at Boulder.

Combatants for Peace Wrestle with Tragedy in the West Bank

Despite loss of his child, Palestinian ex-fighter remains dedicated to peace | csmonitor.com: "Abir's death has been very difficult for Aramin's family. 'It's extremely difficult for our other children,' Aramin says, 'especially at night. And for my wife, too. But I am helping them to go on in every way I can. I can't change my mind about peace. I believe in this process, to protect all the children, on both sides of the fence.'"

Winter Storm

Fresh snow standing deep

on the phone wire. If you call me,

speak softly.



Poem from BRAIDED CREEK, A Conversation in Poetry
by Jim Harrison & Ted Kooser

Winter Storm Rising

Finally, we're getting some snow.....followed by what is predicted to be a significant ice storm. Up here on the north face of Storm King Mountain, that means we're likely to lose power for quite some time. So when I got home this afternoon, I knew that I needed to get a lot of firewood into the house in case the electricity goes out (the temperatures have been well below freezing, and no electricity....no furnace).

I began loading my wheelbarrow with firewood, pushing it from the barn to the house, and carrying the wood inside by the armload. I smiled to myself as I began my routine, which is always the same when it is time to stock up on firewood. I imagine myself as Laura Ingalls in "The Little House on the Prairie" (I loved her books when I was growing up). In that story, Ma and Pa had gone into town, leaving Laura at home with her blind sister Mary and baby sister Carrie. An unexpected blizzard blew in across the prairie, which Laura knew was trouble. If Ma and Pa had already left town, they would probably freeze to death out on the prairie. As frightened as she was, Laura knew it was imperative to get a big stock of firewood into the cabin before it was buried in snow, or she and her sisters would face a similar fate.

She bundled up, ran outside, and started carrying the firewood, determined to do what Pa would have done if he had been there. Hours later, as the parents returned safely through the storm, they found that Laura had carried the ENTIRE woodpile into the house!

So, corny as it may sound, I imagine that I am Laura and the carrying of the heavy wood goes by like it is nothing. All set here, and hunkered down against the storm!

Changing the world one kindness at a time....

The caption under the photo reads: "Air Force Chief Master Sgt. John Gebhardt, of the 332nd Expeditionary Medical Group at Balad, Iraq, cradles a young girl as they both sleep in the hospital. The girl's entire family was executed by insurgents; the killers shot her in the head as well. The girl received treatment at the U.S. Military hospital in Balad but cries and moans often. According to nurses at the facility, Gebhardt is the only one who can calm down the girl, so he has spent the last several nights holding her while they both sleep in a chair."

Photo courtesy of the U.S. Airforce website.

Super Bowl - The Lost Ad

This was my favorite commercial pitch - would have loved to have seen it produced.

wonderful pitch

Super Bowl Ads

I vote for the series of ads from Careerbuilders, with the office workers battling in the forest, adorned with binders, clips and other office supplies. They moment when one of them yelled "Hey, he's the delivery guy - he doesn't even work here!" made me laugh out loud. Absurd in the best possible way.
Careerbuilders (It's a Jungle Out There!)

And, in spite of myself, I liked Kevin Federline's commercial for Nationwide. It worked.
Federline

Sweet Sixteen in Rural America

Last night, as I drove to rural Greenwood Lake, New York, I worried that Jules and her friends would be disappointed at their first Sweet Sixteen party. They were all wearing semi-formal dresses, impossibly high heels, and had awaited the night with great anticipation. As I dropped them off at the local American Legion Hall, I could see through the windows that the decor consisted of blue and white crepe paper, helium balloons, and an old-fashioned disco ball. Please, I implored silently, don't let them walk in and be dismayed.

My daughter and her friends are turning 16 this year, and of course, they are avid viewers of MTV's reality show "My Super Sweet Sixteen." The show is a celebration of crass materialism and stunningly spoiled teenagers (one girl's father hired a helicopter for her grand entrance to her party). Event costs often run into six figures, rap stars like Diddy and Kanye West are booked as surprise guest performers, and in more than one episode, girls have been given hundred thousand dollar luxury sports cars that they are still too young to drive! This is hardly what Jules and her friends are going to experience tonight.

Four hours later, when I returned to pick them up, I could see that everyone was still dancing madly, their movements frozen in time by flashing strobe lights. I slipped inside to watch, and stood near a table in the back. There was a huge card which all the kids had signed, flanked by two framed, 8 x 10 photographs of the birthday girl. One was her school portrait - a fresh-faced, hopeful teenager. The other was a sports photograph with her in full catcher's gear, crouching fiercely behind home plate. Now THAT, I thought to myself is a celebration message!

Gut check on the way home in the car. Not a hint of disappointment; a good time was had by all. There is still hope left for this culture!

Iraq War Spurs Massive Migration [Washington Post 2/4/07]

The Washington Post today is reporting that more than 2 million refugees have fled Iraq since the start of the war.
WP: Iraq war spurs massive migration -
washingtonpost.com Highlights - MSNBC.com

I visited a preschool for Iraqi refugee children when I was in Amman in November. It was run by ICMC (the International Catholic Migration Commission), under their Extremely Vulnerable Iraqi Project. There has been an influx of Iraqi refugees into Amman since the start of the war, and although Jordan is providing refuge, they are a tiny country without the infrastructure to support this kind of immigration. Parents do not have working papers, and children are technically not allowed to go to school (although many schools let them in anyway). This school was run by a British woman who was absolutely passionate about the work. We sat and played for about an hour with a group of young children and their mothers, to whom ICMC is providing humanitarian assistance and preschool education. I connected with a little guy who was playing with Playdough (or the local equivalent). He was incredibly anal - I showed him a few molds and how to draw little faces in the soft dough with a pointed stick. He started making multiple versions of everything we tried, lining them up precisely, like little soldiers! Adorable.

We didn't share a language, but we connected, nonetheless.

Boston: The Big Hoax

I don't know about you, but I'm getting a little tired of hearing about the big freakout in Boston over the Cartoon Network promotion (the boxes were planted all over NYC, too - we didn't bat an eyelash).

I keep thinking of the lyrics from Eminem's masterpiece, WHITE AMERICA.

All I hear is, lyrics, lyrics, constant controversy,
sponsors working 'round the clock, to
try to stop my concerts early,
Surely hip-hop was never a problem in Harlem, only in Boston,
After it bothered the fathers of daughters starting to blossom

I have a dream that one day my four little children...will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.

I've been reading Martin Luther King this morning. I have a great little book, edited by his wife, of his most significant sermons and speeches, and make a habit of reading excerpts from it on his birthday each year. This year it brought to mind the wonderful book by Jim Wallis, called "God's Politics: Why the Right Gets it Wrong and the Left Doesn't Get it." He writes passionately about the place of spirituality in the public discourse, and holds up Martin Luther King as a shining example, fighting for African Americans' civil rights "with a Bible in one hand and the Constitution in the other." It is a book well worth reading.

Photo courtesy of Martin Luther King Jr. Institute at Stanford University.

Amahl and the Night Visitors

I agreed to help out a friend (my choir director Kathleen) and sing in the chorus as a shepherd in a production she is staging in Saugerties this weekend. The leads are all her high school age vocal students (plus an incredible 12-year-old boy as Amahl) - the kids are doing a great job.

I love Menotti's score, which I sang in high school, and eagerly signed up to do it again. Oh my god....those words. I forgot about how many words there are to memorize - lists of complicated pairings, no rhyme or reason to how they fit together. I've been sitting here all morning chanting "olives and quinces, apples and raisins, hazelnuts and camomile, mignonettes and laurel......"

Yikes! Dress rehearsal tonight and I need to be off book. Hopefully, I will get there by then.

Leaving Sesame Workshop......again

This is the place where I've consistently done the best work of my life. And yet, this week, we reached a mutual decision that I should resign as Creative Director. I always knew that trying to innovate and re-invigorate an iconic brand would be very difficult, and it certainly was! For the most part, I loved the challenge and feel very proud of the work we’ve done over these past two years. In the end, I was not able to retain the confidence of management in my creative agenda. I hate to leave the people - some of the best I've ever worked with - and some of the projects. Won't miss any of the rest of it. For now, it's time to move on and dig into some of the new ideas I had been dying to pursue and couldn't in that position.

Somehow, I feel like the Workshop and I are not done with each other yet. Who knows, maybe the fourth time back will be the charm!

Hiking

I am so pleased. I have started hiking again, after 18 months of working on the house, putting in way too many hours on the job, and just basically hanging on, without taking care of myself as I need to. I've been spending plenty of time with my GPS and camera up in Black Rock Forest, digging into 18th century history here in the Hudson Highlands. This week, the NYS Outdoor Education Association accepted my proposal to teach a workshop on Geocaching at their 40th Annual Conference in November. Life is good!

A Christmas Story

The choir arrived early so that we could rehearse prior to the start of the Christmas pageant. While we were singing, I noticed a young mother with a little blonde girl at the altar rail. I had never seen them before, and guessed that they must be here visting grandparents for the holidays. The daughter looked to be about about four-years-old, and was wearing a red velvet Christmas dress. The mother was kneeling and they were talking, the little girl's eyes riveted to her mother's face. As we sang, I kept looking over to them, captivated by how intent and focused they were together.

An hour later, the pageant was in full swing, with various parishioners playing the parts of angels, Herod, Mary and Joseph. Suddenly, the little girl I had noticed earlier came walking up the aisle. Her mother never moved to scold or stop her, she just let her come.

The little one pushed through the angels, proceeded past the choir, and laboriously climbed the marble steps up onto the altar, where Fr. Tom was sitting in an ornate, carved chair. She marched straight up to him, and held her arms out to be picked up. He lifted her into his lap as if they had known each other all their lives. The grandfatherly priest spent the rest of the service with her nestled in his arms. Each time the ritual called for prayer, he took her hand and they climbed the steps to the altar to get the book. Then together, holding hands, they turned and faced the congregation to read.

Her little face was full of light – it was clear that she simply needed to be there. It was an emotional, unexpected manisfestation of the true spirit of Christmas. In religious terms, I would say that she was filled with the Holy Spirit, and it felt to me as though we were visited through her.

That (and the unmistakable resemblance to Cindy Lou Who) moved me to tears.

And a child shall lead them (Isaiah 11:6).

Iraq's bloggers weigh in on Hussein death sentence | csmonitor.com

Iraq's bloggers weigh in on Hussein death sentence | csmonitor.com

Burying the Godfather of Soul

Everything that can possibly be said has been written about the influence of this man on both contemporary music and African American self image. I have the utmost respect for his music, and can only add my personal experience working with him. He was one very strange dude, and you would best remember to address him as Mr. Brown! R.I.P.

Album Cover: IN THE JUNGLE GROOVE

TED KOOSER, Pulitzer Prize-winning Poet

Here's a poem for today, written by one of my favorite authors, Ted Kooser (he was also the Poet Laureate of the United States in 2004).

December 30: Two Degrees and Clear

A box of holiday pears came yesterday,
twenty tough little pears, all red and green,
neatly nested in cardboard cubicles,
their stems all pointed the same direction
like soldiers, a shine on their faces.
Five, all in a row, had been singled out
for special commendation and were wrapped
in crumbled tissue parachutes. Maybe
these were the leaders, the first to leap
from the trees, singing their battle song,
Early this morning I lifted the lid
and they were sleeping peacefully, lying
on one hard side or the other, dreaming
their leafy, breezy dreams of home.

Execution of Saddam Hussein

I am sorry. I do not believe that the State (any State) should be in the business of killing. No matter who he was, or what he did, we demean ourselves and our humanity when we kill out of vengeance and hate, calling it justice. He should have been locked in a solitary cell for life. Period.

Assessment, as 2006 comes to a close......

Over the years, my husband and I bought and renovated two 19th century houses in Cornwall, a historic Hudson Highlands village 55 miles northwest of New York. He was the handy one; I was the primary breadwinner. When we divorced after sixteen years of marriage, I rented a tiny, 3-room carriage house up on Storm King Mountain, feeling sad, vulnerable and relieved not to have a big house to care for alone.

I gave myself a year to heal and then assessed my prospects. The picture was serious - splitting our assets in half had been devastating financially. It seemed foolish to rent in a market like Cornwall, which is rapidly transitioning from rural backwater to NYC bedroom community. With college tuition and retirement looming not too far in the future, I knew I needed a real estate investment, pronto. I started to look for a “fixer-upper” that would become a profitable asset in this rapidly appreciating market, though frankly, I was a little frightened by the prospect of renovating on my own, without a “handy” partner. Though technically I had experience from our previous homes, the truth of the matter was that we bought and he renovated.

I began by searching realtor.com for a 19th century house, hardwood floors, working fireplace, ample land. There were just five such properties listed in Cornwall. I called a realtor/friend, who hesitated and then said gently, “One of them is a lot like the house you used to live in.”

We walked in through the living room and opened a door onto an inviting back porch. As I took in the coppery sunset, filtered through a towering weeping willow, my teenage daughter whispered from behind me, “I call the tree!”

A fixer upper? Was I crazy? The place had been rented for years, and it was a mess. I could see that the roof was shot, the exterior paint was peeling, it still had its ancient, original windows, and the bathrooms? Well, let’s just say we gave it a ZERO rating in bathrooms. Decrepit, water damaged (“grotty,” Jules sniffed). I knew I could negotiate a low price and turn it into a jewel. But I didn’t have the skills to do the big work myself, nor the cash to hire a contractor.

Still, we loved this house. And after paying for an extensive inspection by a structural engineer, I was certain that the investment in this property, one of the last remaining “old” houses up on the mountain, would be a good one. I went back online, searching for a loan that would advance cash for the renovation.

“Have you ever applied for a HUD 203K loan?” my mortgage officer asked doubtfully. “There is a lot of paperwork.” I dug into the application, creating a work plan, getting estimates, selecting materials, hiring a contractor, creating a budget and timeline. I might not know how to install sheetrock, but this I could do!

Twenty months later, having spent virtually every weekend working our way through each room, sanding, refinishing, and painting, we are reclaiming the beauty and charm of this old house. Seven rooms down, two to go. And, now that I have proven to myself that I can do this, my next step toward financial security will be using the equity I have earned in this house to buy a fixer-upper investment property. This could become a habit!

RIP Gerald Ford - My own tiny piece of the story

I awoke this morning to the news of the death of President Ford, and it brought back a very particular memory. It was the Fall of 1973. I was in college, and was an R.A. (Resident Assistant) in my dormitory. One of my new freshmen was Maria Shriver, whose father, Sargeant Shriver, caused quite a stir when he visited our women's dorm, accompanied by young, handsome Secret Service agents!

In those days, no one had a television in their room - there was a single television in the lounge on our floor. Spiro Agnew had just resigned the Vice Presidency in disgrace, and President Nixon was about to name the new Vice President. We all gathered in the TV Lounge, and watched as the President began a lengthy description of the strong qualifications of the as-yet-unnamed individual. All of us were listening, curious but baffled....we had no idea of whom he was describing. Maria Shriver listened to a couple of sentences and announced with certainty: "It's Gerald Ford."

And she continues to put her knowledge to good use, having remained in the family business!

This mini-memoir was published in CNN's iReport.
I-Report: Americans remember Gerald Ford - CNN.com

Photo Credit: Jonathan J. Dwyer / AP file

THE 99 FACES OF GOD

It was a long, hot walk today in Petra. Although I was completely captivated by the beauty and majesty of the place, the Siq was eventually engulfed in shadow as the sun sank in the afternoon sky. I could feel that my face was flushed red from the long day of hiking in the steep desert terrain.

As the sun was setting Mr. Ibrahim, drove us to a simple, sidewalk café just outside the Petra gate. The owner brought a tall jug of cold water, and we ordered two big plates of chicken and rice, hummus, yogurt & cucumbers. We sat quietly for a while, drinking and cooling off, the sound of a girl’s voice chanting the evening prayers coming from a television in the back of the shop.

Hearing the child's voice chanting piqued my curiosity. I told him that I knew very little about Islam, and I was curious. If I were a Muslim child, what would be the first things I would learn about my religion?

He explained one of the core tenets of Islam, The 99 Faces of God (also known as the 99 Names of God). As I understand it, Muslims believe that everything we can know about God, and ultimately everything we can know about the entire cosmos is delineated by the Names. The long list of God's faces includes Ar-Rehman (the Beneficent), Al-Malik (the Sovereign Lord, The King), Al-'Aziz (The Mighty), Al-Bari, (The Evolver), etc.

And then he put his hands on the table and turned the palms up facing the ceiling, asking me to do the same. "Now, look at the palm of your RIGHT hand. The lines in the palm of your hand (reading right to left) form the Arabic numerals 8 and 1," or 81, which in Arabic looks like this:




He traced the lines in my palm with his finger, patiently teaching me the shape of the unfamiliar Arabic symbols.

"Now," he said, "look at the palm of your LEFT hand. What do you see?" Slowly, struggling to remember the shapes of the numbers, and pausing to remember to read right to left, I responded "1 and 8....18," which in Arabic looks like this:




"That's right," he said gently, as if he were praising a young child. "And 81 plus 18 equals...?" "99," I answered slowly, the light dawning. One of the earliest lessons for a young Muslim child is that God is with you all the time - the "99 Faces of God" are literally present in your hands.

Wouldn't it be wonderful if this simple yet vast concept could be the foundation of a solution to the huge gulf between Christian, Jewish and Muslim cultures? All three faiths started with Abraham, and it seems to me that it couldn't hurt to have us all believe that a single God is present in the palms of our hands.

Let's start with As-Salaam....האלוהים של שלום in Hebrew, "The God of Peace," in English.

12 HOURS IN THE ANCIENT CITY OF PETRA

I had just one free day during my business trip to Amman, Jordan, and was determined to travel to the “lost” ancient city of Petra. Inhabited by the Nabataen people from the third century B.C. until the sixth century A.D., their civilization gradually declined as the overland caravan trade routes fell into disuse. Earthquakes cut off many of the access points and eventually Petra disappeared from the map. Then in 1812 a Swiss explorer named Johann Ludwig Burckhardt made his way through the mountains and walked into the majestic ancient city. Petra was found.

I decided to forgo the buses that run daily from Amman and hire a car and driver (which my hotel happily arranged for less than two hundred dollars) in order to make the most of the single day that I had. We drove for more than two hours through the hot, barren Jordanian desert, and then Mr. Ibrahim, my driver, called my attention to the curve ahead. “Watch,” he said quietly, as the landscape completely changed. Sprawled before us, as far as the eye can see, was the (kind of) rock of the southern Jordanian mountains. Somewhere inside those mountains, I knew, was a massive cleft (“siq” in Arabic) in the formidable mountain range that had caused this location to become the crossroads of the ancient world. Caravan trade routes linking Arabia with Gaza, Egypt, and the Mediterranean civilizations of ancient Greece and Rome all converged here. It is modern travelers who converge nowadays in this remote corner of the Jordanian desert to see the ancient city which was literally carved out of the rock, and whose sophisticated architecture shows the influences of Assyrian, Egyptian, Hellenistic and Roman cultures.

As we headed toward the gate to the ancient city, Mr. Ibrahim suggested that I leave time at the end of the day to visit “Little Petra,” about 7 kilometres to the north. “Of course, I will need to charge you an extra thirty dinar,” he said apologetically, “but it is worth it.” I wondered if this was a hustle, but then again, I knew I’d probably never visit this remote corner of the earth again. I agreed, and set off into the Bab al-Siq. This towering cleft in the rock (walls more than 300 meters high and no more than 12 meters wide) takes about 25 minutes to walk, and leads you directly into the ancient city.

Although I had seen many photographs of the incredibly intricate architecture carved out of the sandstone, the towering majesty of the structures is even more impressive in person.
What I did not anticipate from the photographs is the bustle of the bazaar-like atmosphere that pervades the entire route through the city; “guides” urging you to hire a horse or camel (“You look hot, lady”), stalls offering food and trinkets, Bedouin families selling jewelry. Even in its antiquity, Petra has retained the energy of its trading heritage.

I hiked about a third of the way through the city, and by mid-afternoon was climbing back out through the deep siq. Mr. Ibrahim met me at the gate and we headed for Little Petra. I wondered if it would pale in comparison to the majesty of the architecture I had just seen.

Mr. Ibrahim stopped the car, and the two of us got out and began to walk through the shadows of the towering walls of another siq into what appears to have been a residential neighborhood – a quiet village just 350 meters long. A hawk soared in the bright blue sky above Little Petra as we walked in silence, the only sound the wind blowing through the rocks, a Blue Sinai lizard scrambling for cover at our feet.

In Little Petra I had a persistent feeling that this village is still alive. It seemed possible that children were playing and goats were wandering this pathway just yesterday, rather than centuries ago. I wandered into the houses carved out of stone, imagining myself living here, hearing the murmur of voices from homes nearby after dark.

As the afternoon shadows deepened, we returned to the car, and began the drive back up the King’s Highway to Amman. As the city receded behind us, Mr. Ibrahim pulled over to the side of the road so that I could take one last photograph of the rugged stone mountain range bathed in the pink sunset light. I clamored gingerly down the rough sandstone, covered with sweat and gritty dust that I could taste when I licked my lips, making my way down a spot that was an overlook with a clear view across the valley. My guide called from the roadside above. "Your name is Nealon, correct?” I nodded, wondering why he had chosen this moment to verify my identity. “Good,” he said with satisfaction. “We will keep your name always here." Then he shouted "NEALON," and it echoed, over and over, across the rock formations of the Al-Wu'ayra.

Iron Chef Bake Off!

Jules, my teenage daughter, loves the Food Network, and she decided we should have an Iron Chef-style cook off this weekend. The core ingredient was apple, we were not allowed to look up any recipes, all ingredients in the kitchen were fair game, and we had 1.5 hour start to finish.

We had such a good time (though it took longer to clean up the mess than it did to do the cooking!). We were laughing and laughing as she made a very tasty apple pie from scratch, without a recipe. I tried a complicated custard that didn't work out very well....too runny. Tasted good, looked awful. We invited her grandmother over to do the judging (she scored us on both presentation and taste), and Jules won by a mile, fair and square.

I love having a teenager.

Forest Haiku

You two, doe and fawn

Why do you scatter, shocked

when I come each night?

John Kerry - just be quiet!

Pleeeeeease........

Kerry's Iraq gaffe throws Bush a lifeline in election battle | Special reports | Guardian Unlimited

Iraqi Bloggers Central: John Kerry Speaks, The Soldiers Respond

I'm back....and working on Sesame!

Well, it must have been a busy three years since I've posted regularly!

Life is settling down, so many things have changed....I feel like I want to start blogging again. I think I'll start with a link to the cover story from the Arts & Leisure section in last Sunday's NY Times. That is one way of catching up with whereI am these days.


NY Times
August 6, 2006
A Girly-Girl Joins the ‘Sesame’ Boys
By SUSAN DOMINUS



LIZ NEALON, executive vice president and creative director of Sesame Workshop, the nonprofit organization behind “Sesame Street,” wasn’t sure exactly what she wanted in a new Muppet for the show’s 37th season, which starts on Aug. 14. But she did have one major goal: She wanted the creative team, at
long last, to come up with a female Muppet star. The show did already have a number of female characters, including Zoe, a rambunctious, orange, furry friend of Elmo’s, and Rosita, an emerald-blue, bilingual Muppet with a sweet, friendly soul.
“We have our wacky, and we have our gentle,” Ms. Nealon said in a recent interview. “But we wanted a lead female character. If you think about ‘The Mary Tyler Moore Show,’ some girls relate to Rhoda, who’s our Zoe, and some girls really relate to Mary, who’s a girly girl. And we didn’t have that girl. We made a definite decision to sit down with the writers to figure out what this character might be.”

The feminist-minded parent might not only applaud the decision to make a more high-profile female character, but wonder why on earth it took so long. “Sesame Street,” created to help underprivileged kids prepare for kindergarten, has over the years gone out of its way to include images of children of every creed and color, and every level of physical ability and disability. Yet its producers acknowledge it has never come up with a single female character with anything close to the name recognition of Big Bird or Cookie Monster or Ernie and Bert. (The closest that the Jim Henson Company, which designs Muppets for “Sesame Street,” has come is Miss Piggy. But she starred on “The Muppet Show,” not “Sesame Street,” and probably for good reason. You have to go back to “Dynasty” reruns to find a more jealous, vain and domineering female role model on television.)

Even bastions of liberal creativity like “Sesame Street” are apparently vulnerable to the realities of show business, including a disproportionately high ratio of male to female puppeteers, said Rosemary Truglio, executive vice president for education and research at Sesame Workshop. (Miss Piggy has always been played by male puppeteers, starting with Frank Oz.) And a show as politically sensitive as this one has an added challenge: finding female characters that make kids laugh, but not laugh at them as female stereotypes. “If Cookie Monster was a female character,” said Carol-Lynn Parente, executive producer of the show, “she’d be accused of being anorexic or bulimic. There are a lot of things that come attached to female
characters.” For example, said Deborah Aubert, associate director of national programs and training services at Girls, Inc., a nonprofit advocacy group. “It would be hard to have a female character with Elmo’s whimsy who didn’t also seem ditzy.”
But it’s not just a high-minded interest in gender equality that drove the search for a strong female character. The success of “Dora the Explorer,” a show built around a strong female lead, has not gone unnoticed by its competitors at “Sesame Street.” “ ‘Sesame Street’ is living in an increasingly competitive market,” Ms. Nealon said. “We used to be the only game in town, and now we’re having more conversations about where are all the points of appeal of our cast. We’re trying to be as absolutely broadbased as we can be.”

The feminist parent might also wonder whether “broad-based” will boil down to characters with predictable girly-girl looks and interests. But Ms. Nealon said she wasn’t worried. “I came of age during that 70’s generation when you just had to do everything you could do to be taken seriously,” she said. “But the world has changed since then. My daughter is comfortable with clothes and hair and makeup and totally embraces her femininity, but can still be strong and completely competitive in a world populated by men and women.”

The Muppet that after nine months of research was selected to embody those characteristics is not technically a girl: she is a 3-year-old fairy named Abby Cadabby. Neither monster like Zoe nor humanoid like Prairie Dawn, the calico-wearing blonde who first showed up in 1970, Abby is a purely magical creature, complete with tiny wings, a magic wand and sparkles in her hair. There’s something suspiciously marketable, of course, about a new character who happens to be a fairy, just now in the midst of a girlish craze for tutus, tiaras and all things princessy, and as Disney prepares a big marketing push for its 2007 movie starring Tinker Bell. But the idea came not from some Mattel consultant but from a 30-year veteran of “Sesame Street,” Tony Geiss, whose most significant previous creations were the Honkers, monsters who communicate by honking their noses. One day the writers were tossing around the idea of a girl who was new in town, perhaps trying to fit into a new classroom. After the meeting broke up, Mr. Geiss approached the show’s head writer, Lou Berger, with the idea of making her the daughter of the fairy godmother, a character who is invoked but never seen. Her origins in fairyland would provide plenty of story lines about difference, without the show “having consciously to introduce somebody from Indonesia or India,” Mr. Geiss said. Mr. Berger and the team liked the idea and told Mr. Geiss to develop it further. A few days later he presented the full picture: a fairy in training, capable of hovering only when very happy, able to turn any object into a pumpkin but unable to change it back with any reliability. Her family had recently moved to Sesame Street for the schools, leaving behind Fairyside Gardens, an elves’ and fairies’ housing community in Queens (a bit of back story that’s mostly been dropped). “When I did a little presentation, I was calling her Daisy,” Mr. Geiss said. “Everyone said, no, that’s not it, and then we sat around as if we were coming up with names for a new baby. Patsy, Dixie, Leonora. ... ” Finally someone threw out Abby, and Mr. Berger followed that up with Abby Cadabby. “It had a vaguely magical sound to it,” Mr. Geiss said. The combination of “correctness and exhaustion” kicked in, he added, and Abby Cadabby she’s been ever since.

As a newcomer eager to learn, the writers knew, she would provide the perfect opportunity for explanatory lessons. She would also provide a way to talk about female friendships (including “What does it mean to bring a girl into the group?,” Ms. Truglio said, and to show healthy models by which girls could resolve conflict). The show had tried to introduce a character for just that purpose in 2000, the short-lived Lulu, a shy monster who “had a kind of quirky personality,” Ms. Truglio said. “She wasn’t that attractive.” With the approval of Ms. Nealon and Ms. Parente, and the product and publishing divisions of “Sesame Street,” the production team decided to take the idea of Abby Cadabby to the Jim Henson Workshop. Various sketches and fabric swatches of the Muppet-to-be were circulated for input from the writers and executives on the show. There was some retreading of what Mr. Geiss calls the big-nose versus small-nose debate. “Some people think the big nose is funnier,” he explained, but Abby’s is small, a nod toward the more feminine aesthetic for which the producers were hoping. Careful attention was paid too to how much eyelid would be visible; the more eyelid, the more vulnerable-looking the character. “Her eyes look up,” Mr. Geiss said. “They can look beseeching, and they can be sad as well as happy.”

Sherrie Rollins Westin, executive vice president and chief marketing officer of Sesame Workshop, recalled seeing an early version that was a little too “bug-eyed” for her taste. One version had too much of a snout, rendering her worrisomely insectlike, given the wings in back, Ms. Truglio said. All versions featured various shades of pink- or lavender-toned skin, colors that would “work well next to Elmo,” who is red, Ms. Truglio said. “That was not up for discussion.” Once they narrowed the sketches down to two images that they thought worked, they showed them to 77children aged 2 to 5 and in one-on-one interviews asked them what they liked and didn’t like about Abby’s looks. The kids were particularly enamored of her turquoise dress; they also preferred a button nose to a flatter, more truncated version, and her hair in two pompoms, rather than in one big bunch atop her head.

Armed with that information, the team began to design the actual Muppet, a budget commitment of “tens of thousands of dollars,” said Ms. Parente, the show’s executive producer. They also began creating a 10-minute segment that they further tested on 53 3-year-olds. The resulting confection is a Muppet with the pretty pastel aesthetic of an Easter egg, complete with pink skin (compared with Zoe’s orange), purple and pink sparkly pompoms (Zoe’s hair juts out from the sides of her face ) and a Thumbelina-style petal-layered turquoise dress. (Zoe wears a tutu that’s charmingly incongruous on her bouncy little body.) Abby Cadabby’s lashes are long and feminine, her voice pitched somewhere between Elmo’s dog-range high notes and Zoe’s scratchy old-womanish tones. In the first segment created, Abby played hide-and-seek, making ample, if not totally proficient use of her magic wand. “The kids were pretty glued to the show,” Ms. Truglio said. “They loved that she could do magic,” she added. “But if you asked them how they imagined playing with Abby Cadabby, they mentioned regular kid stuff like playing catch. So we knew they liked her as a personality.”

For all the educational consultants and child psychologists the show could have enlisted, the success of the character seems to rely largely on the one simple quality no other Muppet can claim: she’s very, very pretty. As played by Leslie Carrara-Rudolph, a new Muppeteer, she’s enthusiastic, eager, occasionally bashful but never coy (and certainly never divalike along the lines of Tinker Bell). “I’m ready, I’m ready, I’m ready!” she answers Baby Bear emphatically in one segment when he asks if she’s prepared for her first day of school.

In the past the show has bent over backward to counteract stereotypes, with the tomboyish Zoe or the highly opinionated Elizabeth. “But political correctness hampers creativity,” Ms. Nealon said. “Abby Cadabby owns her own point of view, but she’s also comfortable with the fact that she likes wearing a dress, and as we’d tried to model strong female models, we neglected that piece of being a girl.”

On the set the joke was about the new toy on the block, as opposed to the new Muppet character, a dig at the obvious marketability of the new pretty-in-pink creature. Some of the writers, Ms. Parente said, worried about moving away from the show’s merely surreal characters to one with a full-blown dependence on actual magic. Others were concerned about the character tipping over into a saccharine sweetness. “What’s always been great about ‘Sesame Street,’ ” said Noel MacNeal, a longtime “Sesame Street” Muppeteer, “is that there was always a softness and gentleness to its characters, while still having enough edge. It wasn’t too cute. I just hope with Abby Cadabby, they’re not going to make a mistake they’ve made before when they tried to compete directly with ‘Barney,’ which was so cutesy.” (He was referring to his
take on why the show added a new set in the early 90’s to give the street a clean new look. A few years later Ms. Parente reverted the set back to its old chipped-paint aesthetic.) But for the most part the traditional “Sesame Street” team of performers and writers has rallied behind the character.

The producers’ hopes of course are pinned on the possibility that Abby Cadabby could be the female equivalent of Elmo, a huge money-maker for the nonprofit organization behind the show. First to roll out will be storybooks featuring Abby Cadabby; if they succeed, videos and toys will follow. Maura Regan, vice president and general manager of global consumer products for Sesame Workshop, said she was confident about Abby Cadabby’s market readiness. She’ll be strong in spring, Ms. Regan theorized, because she has a “wood nymph quality,” and added that her pink coloring made her great for
merchandising around Valentine’s Day and Christmas, when she will pair well with red Elmo. Then of course there’s the fall back-to-school theme of a new girl getting to know her classmates. Ms. Regan’s team has already started working with the toy company Fisher-Price on a rough mockup of a doll. Most important, she said, is getting a cuddle-ready expression on the toy’s face; then there’s the challenge of capturing her feathery, fluffy, sparkly hair without creating a safety hazard. “There are so many cute things out there,” she added, “but in order to make them want one doll over another, I think the real deciding factor is how much they’ve connected with the Muppet from the show. And you’ve got to be able to capture that.”
Could Abby’s sales rival those of the show’s marketing juggernaut, Elmo? Ms. Regan obviously hopes they can. But in an aside, as she demurred from making predictions, she gave a hint on just how much rides on the outcome. “I don’t want to jinx myself,” she whispered. “That would be terrible, terrible, terrible.”

Whoever would think that I'd be the one credited with creating a "girly girl"? Curiouser and curiouser, this life!
liz

Photograph © 2006 Sesame Workshop. All Rights Reserved.

THE COPPER CANYON :: LESS THAN PARADISE

We all piled onto a coach bus on Thursday morning and traveled to the Copper Canyon, an area of great physical beauty (a bit like the Grand Canyon, but with dense, green vegetation). It is also the home of an estimated 70,000 of the indigenous Tarahumara people, renowned for their long-distance running ability (their word for themselves, Raramuri, means runners). Most of the Tarahumara still adhere to their traditional lifestyle, inhabiting natural shelters such as caves or cliff overhangs, and they struggle with the problems of indigenous people the world over – isolation, alcoholism, poverty, depression. We visited an orphanage for Tarahumara children while we were there.

Unfortunately, what was billed as an eight-hour bus trip became thirteen hours due to many unscheduled stops to see the sights along the way. By 8pm darkness was falling fast, and the driver was having trouble finding the place where we were meant to stay. Finally, we stopped in the right lane of a two-way highway — there was no real shoulder to pull safely off the road. There was a small sign reading “Christian Center,” and a narrow rock track leading through the woods into the falling darkness. We had no idea whether we were in the right place, but the kids had had it – they all scrambled off the bus like caged animals onto a narrow strip of grass between the busy highway and an active railroad track. I was acutely aware of the parents that I left behind at home, promising that I would keep their children safe. I decided to focus on containing the damage — preventing anyone from being hit by a fast-moving, 3-ton vehicle seemed to be a practical approach for the moment.

Finally, we got word that this was the right place and they were sending vans to get our bags. We crossed the kids safely over the highway, sent them off into the pitch dark woods, and started unloading luggage off the bus. One of the drivers told me that they had cooked dinner for 35 people the previous night, and were surprised that we did not show up. Great. Wrong date. I asked, fearing the worst, if there were any beds available for this night. “Well,” he said, “there is an outbuilding that is under construction, if you don’t mind sleeping on the floor.” Mind? How could we mind? We carried all our things over to an empty brick building with a concrete floor and no electricity. The dust was horrendous as everyone settled in, throwing their packs on the floor and shaking out their sleeping bags. The particles in the air were soon so thick that soon every kid with asthma started wheezing. I made my way around the room, confirming that they had their inhalers (two didn't, big surprise), passing out antihistamines to take before bed. It was feeling less and less certain that I was doing much of a job in the “safe” department.

Finally, at 9:45 pm, the food was ready. Three women managed to muster up crispy tostadas (4-inches in diameter) with lettuce, tomato, refried beans and a sprinkling of cheese. There was just enough for each teenager to have two; the adults settled for one.

Brooding silence as we settled in for what we optimistically called “the world’s biggest sleepover.” Everyone was feeling upset, some scared, some angry, one afraid of the dark. Most were just quiet. This trip was not at all what was promised, and “nothing works, but somehow it all works out,” was not a very comforting thought as we faced a long night on the hard, damp floor.

As we settled down into our sleeping bags, a voice in the darkness started talking about Chewey, the little boy from Anapra. "He lives in a cinder block house," said one of the teen. "I bet he sleeps with a blanket on a concrete floor like this every night. And, you know he doesn't ever have much more to eat than we just did - they never have meat."

And with that, realizing that we had been handed the opportunity to live Chewey’s experience and gain a perspective on his life, everyone fell asleep.

JUAREZ: WE HAVE CONTACT

The sun is breaking through the clouds as we head for the second church that we will be painting, but there is still a huge amount of water in the streets from the storms last night. It rarely rains in Juarez and the sewers clearly aren’t equipped to handle this storm. We set off toward the highway, our vans plowing through the water like stallions fording a river.

By the time we reach Anapra, the clouds have cleared and the sun is blazing overhead. Everything we heard about the poverty here, one of the poorest barrios of Juarez, is true. The electrical wires overhead end suddenly at the outskirts of the neighborhood, rusting cars are everywhere and virtually every modest structure is constructed of naked concrete. As we are traveling, the driver of one of our vans runs over a dog in the street without even attempting to brake or swerve. The teenagers onboard are outraged, some crying after this very personal encounter with the low value placed on life in this forsaken neighborhood.

The job today is daunting. Padre wants us to put white paint on a fence that runs 300 yards around the perimeter of the church. It is constructed of crumbling, unprimed cinder block – very difficult to paint – and there is sand at the bottom of the wall that sticks to the wet paintbrushes. There is not a bit of shade. The sand is full of burrs with deep, sharp spines and is burning hot on this day, which is going to top 100 degrees by noontime.

The teens have requested that they choose the teams and set up the work plan today. They get a kick out of running the show, and enthusiastically dive into the project. As the painting teams spread out along the perimeter, carrying paint, brushes and other supplies to their workstations, a little girl climbs over the wall. She appears to be about six years old, and lives in a house nearby. As she talks with our teenagers, other little kids join her. Soon, our painting crew is supplemented by fourteen little children, all wielding paintbrushes under the tutelage of doting (and suddenly expert) teenagers. Spanish phrasebooks materialize on the steps of the church – now, no one is embarrassed to try speaking Spanish because they want to communicate with these children.

A three-year-old named Chewey steals everyone’s hearts. He is mischievous, affectionate, and funny, with black eyes so huge and limpid he might have been drawn by a Disney illustrator.
As the sun moves higher in the sky, women from the neighborhood are setting up lunch inside the church, which is at least 15 degrees cooler than the glaring sand outside. They carry in huge trays of tamales - steam-cooked cornmeal dough filled with cheese, beans and chilis, wrapped in cornhusks to retain the moisture. The kids traipse inside, hot, tired and sweating, shepherding the little ones in front of them. They sit the neighborhood children down at the table that has been set with cups of cold water and plates of food, standing behind them and waiting to eat until the little ones have had their fill. Could this possibly be the same group of teenagers who just yesterday had goofed their way through a haphazard painting job? Clearly, as our kids have fallen in love with Chewey, the severity of his circumstances has begun to sink in.

No question about finishing the job today. After a rousing soccer match with the kids, our crack painting crew finishes the task and poses for a triumphant photograph in front of the long, pristine white wall. As we pull out of the neighborhood to head back to our compound, fourteen little children are running behind the bus. There is a long silence, and more than a few tears, as we drive away.

A WEEK VOLUNTEERING IN JUAREZ

My Episcopal church is one of three, New York-area churches that is sending a group to do Habitat for Humanity-type work in Juarez, Mexico, and I must admit, I am feeling some trepidation now that the trip is upon us. Earlier this morning, our church held a special “commissioning service,” blessing all of us who are heading off for eight days painting outpost churches in the bleak Mexican desert. A friend who often does this kind of volunteer work in Haiti told me: “We like to say that nothing works, but everything always works out. Lower your expectations…because efficiency is not going to be part of your experience in Juarez.”

Later, as we prepared to depart from the church parking lot, anxious parents thanked me for making the trip and keeping their children safe. Frankly, I am not terribly worried about security, although Juarez is a rough border town. We are staying in a locked compound, and we’re traveling with experienced, savvy, Mexican/New Yorkers – Canon Sylvia and Father Hilario, who is a towering, muscular man with a shaved head and neatly trimmed goatee. Priest or not, anyone would think twice before messing with this dignified, fierce-looking man.

I am more uneasy at the prospect of a week of physically hard work in 100-degree temperatures, using a sleeping bag in a sweltering bunkhouse, to say nothing of chaperoning nineteen teenagers. I know they are not used to this kind of hard work.

“Better you than me,” whispered one of the mothers as she reached past me to give her daughter a final hug.

Storm King Mountain: Mystery Artist

A silent sculptor

works the forest, stones

balanced with breaths of whimsy.