The year was 1959. Fidel Castro marched into Havana, Cuba. There was a race riot in Collins Park,Delaware: a “negro” George Rayfield bought a house and moved into an all white neighborhood. Police had to use dogs to disperse an unruly crowd. Sidney Poitier, Pat Boone and Jack Paar were heroes. Ruby Dee, Maria Callas and Marilyn Monroe were heroines. Firestone tires, Tang and canned fruit were advertised in Life magazine. It was the April 6th issue that carried a photo by Joe Munroe of telephone booth cramming in California. This issue contained the series ‘How the West was won.’
Durban, South Africa is a thriving port city of 3.5 million on the KwaZulu-Natal coast, a popular tourist site. Fifty-one years ago in Durban, 25 college students crammed into a telephone booth. They were looking to set a Guiness Book Record in a non-existent event; they did. Entering this competition 19 students at London University stuffed themselves in a wider telephone booth. In Britian this fad was called “telephone box squash.” 34 in Modesto, California. In Canada 40 fraternity students stuffed themselves in a wider telephone booth on its side. Then the fad went underwater. Female and male co-eds stuffed themselves in a telephone booth underwater in a pool at a Fresno, California motel.
With no rules nor guidelines this event was unable to sanction itself. So came rules:
· The telephone booth crammers must either receive or place a telephone call
· The door can remain open
· ½ half a person must be within the telephone booth
· The booth must be upright
Now the competion moved into the technique and organization stage. Various planned packing styles emerged. The two more popular were the sandwich style and the crosshatch technique invented at MIT.
Out west at St. Mary's College, Moraga, California the preliminary telephone booth stuffing was in the booth in the Aquinas Hall dormitory. Perhaps posters were put up. "Come participate in a Big Event! Guiness Book of Records. Individuals and Teams compete."
Was this a fraternity competition or a new college sport? What did they call it? Off with the shoes. Off with the shirts. Who will be on the bottom? This must have been hilarious!
When Life magazine photographer, Joe Munroe and wife Virginia were assigned to cover this event a glass telephone booth from across town was hauled to the campus. This photograph of 22 students appeared in Life magazine on April 6, 1959. The only recognizable face was Ray Motta.
At the recent Fiftieth Anniversary celebration March 30, 2009 the students performed a reenactment at St. Mary’s College. Ray Motta was there. Ron and Don Dorito reported that they were on the bottom in 1959. Ted Tsukahara was at the Anniversary celebration as an observer retelling this story of how the West won.
1.8 million telephone booths have been disconnected in the recent five years. Now we know who cares.
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Quilt Show Review
Harlem Sewn Up II
Quilted Reflections of a Community
A Review
Harlem Sewn Up began at the Dwyer Cultural Center with curator and quilt artist Laura R. Gadson. This exhibit’s iteration is now on view at The Interchurch Center;475 Riverside Drive;Manhattan; February 22-March 26,2010. The Treasure Room Gallery is curated by Frank DeGregorio. At the Opening on March 3, 2010 it was a pleasant surprise to see seventeen large and small hangings showing a variety of quilting techniques.
Thanks to the Michael K. Unthank and V. Olivia Smashurn collection two large complex hangings by Michael Cummings can be studied by budding art quilters.
Storyteller and Kitty Fireflies in the Bush both tell a story. It is a narrative of irregular, satin stitched, unpredictable shapes with vibrant, contrasting patterns and colors.
Ife Felix is a nontraditional graphic artist whose five works display a freedom of thought and design. Dance Class at the Harlem Y is a scene in a room full of small figures in mid dance step. Sometimes Ife Felix mounts multiple completed pieced blocks on golden poles forming an angled geometric shape.
Wisdom Seeker, Sun Song I and II by Adriene Cruz speak to the sun in warm glowing quasi rectangular shapes awash in a family of reds.
One visitor to the Opening remarked that Myrah Brown Green’s work is her favorite because “it is quiet, elegant and alluring.” Snake Dance is constructed with vertical panels of varied widths, 46 X 42. One panel has a gaggle of appliquéd snakelike shapes with bright eyes. The other panels show neat quilting stitches of spirals and undulations. Ogun was Here and Mother Spirit demonstrate strip-pieced blocks as a central statement surrounded by a complementary border. The circular quilting is outstanding.
Another visitor explained to me that “the painted, crumpled face and those eyes were immediately recognizable as Charlie Parker.” The 60 X 44 wall hanging by Dindga McCannon is entitled Charlie Parker Played Harlem. Out of his saxophone pours an abstract shape of texture and color: his music.
Anna Alvarez continues the music theme with Azucar . This is a figurative display of musical instruments: a giant guitar, a bongo and a saxophone dominate. A glittering script of names such as Tito Puente and Celia Cruz surround.
Pat Mabry’s African Square -125 shows more traditional pieced blocks varied by color.
The massive SPEAK OUT 100 X 90 is a group effort from Harlem Girls Quilting Circle. It is perfect for this exhibit as it depicts the people, places, health, high times and history of community.
Gallery hours
Monday-Friday 9am-5pm
Quilted Reflections of a Community
A Review
Harlem Sewn Up began at the Dwyer Cultural Center with curator and quilt artist Laura R. Gadson. This exhibit’s iteration is now on view at The Interchurch Center;475 Riverside Drive;Manhattan; February 22-March 26,2010. The Treasure Room Gallery is curated by Frank DeGregorio. At the Opening on March 3, 2010 it was a pleasant surprise to see seventeen large and small hangings showing a variety of quilting techniques.
Thanks to the Michael K. Unthank and V. Olivia Smashurn collection two large complex hangings by Michael Cummings can be studied by budding art quilters.
Storyteller and Kitty Fireflies in the Bush both tell a story. It is a narrative of irregular, satin stitched, unpredictable shapes with vibrant, contrasting patterns and colors.
Ife Felix is a nontraditional graphic artist whose five works display a freedom of thought and design. Dance Class at the Harlem Y is a scene in a room full of small figures in mid dance step. Sometimes Ife Felix mounts multiple completed pieced blocks on golden poles forming an angled geometric shape.
Wisdom Seeker, Sun Song I and II by Adriene Cruz speak to the sun in warm glowing quasi rectangular shapes awash in a family of reds.
One visitor to the Opening remarked that Myrah Brown Green’s work is her favorite because “it is quiet, elegant and alluring.” Snake Dance is constructed with vertical panels of varied widths, 46 X 42. One panel has a gaggle of appliquéd snakelike shapes with bright eyes. The other panels show neat quilting stitches of spirals and undulations. Ogun was Here and Mother Spirit demonstrate strip-pieced blocks as a central statement surrounded by a complementary border. The circular quilting is outstanding.
Another visitor explained to me that “the painted, crumpled face and those eyes were immediately recognizable as Charlie Parker.” The 60 X 44 wall hanging by Dindga McCannon is entitled Charlie Parker Played Harlem. Out of his saxophone pours an abstract shape of texture and color: his music.
Anna Alvarez continues the music theme with Azucar . This is a figurative display of musical instruments: a giant guitar, a bongo and a saxophone dominate. A glittering script of names such as Tito Puente and Celia Cruz surround.
Pat Mabry’s African Square -125 shows more traditional pieced blocks varied by color.
The massive SPEAK OUT 100 X 90 is a group effort from Harlem Girls Quilting Circle. It is perfect for this exhibit as it depicts the people, places, health, high times and history of community.
Gallery hours
Monday-Friday 9am-5pm
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Author:Jim Crace in New York City
Jim Crace at the Artists Club, Gramercy Park South, New York City.
The Carleton Book Club was hosted by Karen Kukowski and David Diamond (members of the Artists Club) for a talk by Jim Crace on Thursday May 29, 2008.
Jim Crace had arrived in this Time Zone just hours before from a Great Britain that consumes large quantities of American culture: magazines, movies, music, electoral politics. Even in remote villages of Cambodia, where he traveled recently there were posters for Nike and photos of a pop music star. American culture has a global persona. This village lacked basic amenities including education. This love hate relationship with the US is the foundation for the book he reads from tonight Pesthole.
He began writing as a journalist. Quickly he learned that an editors’ response to ‘writers block’ was not 'submit it whenever you can.' More likely this response was "You are sacked." He described disciplined work habits that might include sitting in his garden all day. He said that he has always completed his novels on time.
The title of his most recent novel Pesthole is chiseled on a building on the Isle of Sicily. The Isle of Sicily is located thirty miles from the main land; for immigrants of the past a destination for a new life. The events on this island have the mood of dashed hope:"the fodder of great fiction." A family vacation spot is near, the Isle of Marettimo. He told us the history of the island where immigrants were quarantined and ignored for a mere rosaceous complexion presumed to be a contagious disease.
He told us so many things; perhaps we didn't expect to hear:
About the three languages: King's English; Oxford; BBC
Why he wrote the book Being Dead.
What were the funeral arrangements for his father.
His opinion of the America political candidates
What he thought of On The Road, McCarthy
He creatively presented the Gestalt of his persona as a writer and as a citizen. He is a citizen of the world concerned about how our awareness of nature has waned as we manufacture goods for our consumer driven culture. What will the "medival future" think of the many objects of modern technology? He touched the lecturn's lamp and the microphone. He holds up a shiny six inch bolt with a washer that smoothly spins on its’ threads. Then in his left hand a similar bolt found in his garden demonstrating years of rust, useless. From Pesthole he read of the shaven female character, Margaret who cherished a nickel and a penny. Did she really have the "flux?"
Jim Crace suggests that readers make an erroneous coupling of author with book. He came to America to tell us that he is really a nice, likeable guy who just happens to scribe novels such as Quarantine and Being Dead. (Both of which have been recently read by the Carleton College Book Club) He gardens, plays tennis and spends time with family and friends. He writes about death but he is quite an optimistic chap. He is quoted describing Pesthole as "an unambiguously optimistic book." http://www.jim-crace.com/ He doesn’t consider these subjects morbid but simply a depiction of the natural world that all the other millions of species clearly comprehend. What a surprise if our species is the conscious one; why do we not acknowledge that the natural world is what is controlling our lives. The perspective that the subject is morbid perhaps comes from the readers' pessimism; it is not the author's. Any scholar or observer of natural history reminds us that death is all around us; the very compost of the earth. His writing combines the informative with the hideous.
For many in the audience who had read Being Dead the recollection of the couple lying of the beach, bodies disintegrating lacked lightness. Yet listening to Jim Crace it was easy to recall the other parts of the story: the earlier carefree life of the couple studying the elusive stickler moth; the daughter going on as she incorporated the tragedy into her life. In China the published title was "Love on the Beach."
His mother and father did not yell at each other; his childhood does not make for marketable fiction.
Jim Crace comes from generations of atheists. His father gave very strict instructions for the family on his internment. The family complied: no hymns, no words and no spreading of his ashes. The last is the only task Jim Crace regrets ignoring. As a citizen of the world he understands the frivolity and function of religion. If there was a reason for writing Being Dead he suggests this was his attempt to compose a narrative to comfort the atheists in the style that religion wraps a compelling story around the exigencies of life and death. A member in the audience asked if he thought most readers would appreciate this intent? He sighed, "no.”
The Carleton Book Club was hosted by Karen Kukowski and David Diamond (members of the Artists Club) for a talk by Jim Crace on Thursday May 29, 2008.
Jim Crace had arrived in this Time Zone just hours before from a Great Britain that consumes large quantities of American culture: magazines, movies, music, electoral politics. Even in remote villages of Cambodia, where he traveled recently there were posters for Nike and photos of a pop music star. American culture has a global persona. This village lacked basic amenities including education. This love hate relationship with the US is the foundation for the book he reads from tonight Pesthole.
He began writing as a journalist. Quickly he learned that an editors’ response to ‘writers block’ was not 'submit it whenever you can.' More likely this response was "You are sacked." He described disciplined work habits that might include sitting in his garden all day. He said that he has always completed his novels on time.
The title of his most recent novel Pesthole is chiseled on a building on the Isle of Sicily. The Isle of Sicily is located thirty miles from the main land; for immigrants of the past a destination for a new life. The events on this island have the mood of dashed hope:"the fodder of great fiction." A family vacation spot is near, the Isle of Marettimo. He told us the history of the island where immigrants were quarantined and ignored for a mere rosaceous complexion presumed to be a contagious disease.
He told us so many things; perhaps we didn't expect to hear:
About the three languages: King's English; Oxford; BBC
Why he wrote the book Being Dead.
What were the funeral arrangements for his father.
His opinion of the America political candidates
What he thought of On The Road, McCarthy
He creatively presented the Gestalt of his persona as a writer and as a citizen. He is a citizen of the world concerned about how our awareness of nature has waned as we manufacture goods for our consumer driven culture. What will the "medival future" think of the many objects of modern technology? He touched the lecturn's lamp and the microphone. He holds up a shiny six inch bolt with a washer that smoothly spins on its’ threads. Then in his left hand a similar bolt found in his garden demonstrating years of rust, useless. From Pesthole he read of the shaven female character, Margaret who cherished a nickel and a penny. Did she really have the "flux?"
Jim Crace suggests that readers make an erroneous coupling of author with book. He came to America to tell us that he is really a nice, likeable guy who just happens to scribe novels such as Quarantine and Being Dead. (Both of which have been recently read by the Carleton College Book Club) He gardens, plays tennis and spends time with family and friends. He writes about death but he is quite an optimistic chap. He is quoted describing Pesthole as "an unambiguously optimistic book." http://www.jim-crace.com/ He doesn’t consider these subjects morbid but simply a depiction of the natural world that all the other millions of species clearly comprehend. What a surprise if our species is the conscious one; why do we not acknowledge that the natural world is what is controlling our lives. The perspective that the subject is morbid perhaps comes from the readers' pessimism; it is not the author's. Any scholar or observer of natural history reminds us that death is all around us; the very compost of the earth. His writing combines the informative with the hideous.
For many in the audience who had read Being Dead the recollection of the couple lying of the beach, bodies disintegrating lacked lightness. Yet listening to Jim Crace it was easy to recall the other parts of the story: the earlier carefree life of the couple studying the elusive stickler moth; the daughter going on as she incorporated the tragedy into her life. In China the published title was "Love on the Beach."
His mother and father did not yell at each other; his childhood does not make for marketable fiction.
Jim Crace comes from generations of atheists. His father gave very strict instructions for the family on his internment. The family complied: no hymns, no words and no spreading of his ashes. The last is the only task Jim Crace regrets ignoring. As a citizen of the world he understands the frivolity and function of religion. If there was a reason for writing Being Dead he suggests this was his attempt to compose a narrative to comfort the atheists in the style that religion wraps a compelling story around the exigencies of life and death. A member in the audience asked if he thought most readers would appreciate this intent? He sighed, "no.”
Professor Gordon-Reed and the Heminges
Book Club Review February 18, 2009
At 7pm we all rode up the elevator with James, who produced this Carleton College Book Club event. The author, Annette Gordon-Reed’s braids frame her face. She was dressed simply. I had studied her photo on the book’s jacket and the Internet images of her and husband, Judge Reed. The CNN interview with Charlie Rose was the most recent image; so I spoke. Off the elevator we entered Frances Spangler’s apartment overlooking the Manhattan Bridge.The joy was as subdued as Professor Gordon. For three years members have traveled monthly via subway, PATH train or driving to attend our Book Club.We come from as far away as Little Ferry, New Jersey. We all bring a dish to share. This Wednesday, February 18th, 2009 we all also brought the book The Heminges of Monticello for signing. Some of us brought two books! My guest, the poet Jacqueline Johnson pulled the sales tag from my discounted copy--$28.75 from Strand bookstore on 13th Street.
We pulled chairs and a stool around Professor Gordon seated on the couch. Frances served white and red wine; we nibbled on falafel tidbits, Chinese beef dumplings, sushi, several varieties of cheese, the local Brooklyn specialty:mozzarella pizza from down the block, raw veges for a spinach sour cream dip and cookies.
We have had other authors attend our meetings so we know to tread lightly when we long to speak frankly. Who suggested this book? Who is to start? We were quiet, longer than usual imitating Professor Gordon’s mood. Were we reflecting on the neglected history of Sally Hemings? When we started to speak it was uncharacteristically one at a time. The conversation went on past 9:30pm.
My great surprise was that this 600 page non-fiction book contained so many diverse topics that I shuddered to choose one to query. Would I ask about the history, The Revolutionary War, The French Revolution; politics; the culture, slavery, feminism; medicine, deaths in motherhood, typhoid fever, whooping cough and what urogenital pathology did Thomas Jefferson suffer; genealogy, family names so repetitious; inheritances; the scholarly research of over ten years, her critics and disbelievers; the law that changed over the years, its philosophy, its psychology that perpetuates the myth of race. One Carl alumn remarked that the writing spoke to several audiences; Professor Gordon responded her intent. Lastly can we discuss the families post-Monticello. Who are they? Where are they today? That is her next book.
Eleven Carls politely tossed questions and comments. Which were met with verbose answers that recaped Professor Gordon’s evidentiary text while admitting historic gaps. We queried the parodox—Jefferson’s public writing did not sufficiently describe his private life style. Or did it? When Professor Gordon presented her conclusions her voice sourced a thorough comprehension of ALL of the above mentioned topics. And more importantly was sourced in an understanding of Thomas Jerrerson as he saw himself. She reminded us as she repeatedly does in The Heminges of Monticello (some have reviewed her writing as a ‘brief’) that these times and this culture may not be respected by the modern thinking feminists in attendance. This research is meticulously footnoted showing how readings of multiple letters and historic documents require deductions. How would you describe a thirty-eight year relationship between Thomas Jefferson and Sally Hemings at Monticello? MyrnaWilliams
At 7pm we all rode up the elevator with James, who produced this Carleton College Book Club event. The author, Annette Gordon-Reed’s braids frame her face. She was dressed simply. I had studied her photo on the book’s jacket and the Internet images of her and husband, Judge Reed. The CNN interview with Charlie Rose was the most recent image; so I spoke. Off the elevator we entered Frances Spangler’s apartment overlooking the Manhattan Bridge.The joy was as subdued as Professor Gordon. For three years members have traveled monthly via subway, PATH train or driving to attend our Book Club.We come from as far away as Little Ferry, New Jersey. We all bring a dish to share. This Wednesday, February 18th, 2009 we all also brought the book The Heminges of Monticello for signing. Some of us brought two books! My guest, the poet Jacqueline Johnson pulled the sales tag from my discounted copy--$28.75 from Strand bookstore on 13th Street.
We pulled chairs and a stool around Professor Gordon seated on the couch. Frances served white and red wine; we nibbled on falafel tidbits, Chinese beef dumplings, sushi, several varieties of cheese, the local Brooklyn specialty:mozzarella pizza from down the block, raw veges for a spinach sour cream dip and cookies.
We have had other authors attend our meetings so we know to tread lightly when we long to speak frankly. Who suggested this book? Who is to start? We were quiet, longer than usual imitating Professor Gordon’s mood. Were we reflecting on the neglected history of Sally Hemings? When we started to speak it was uncharacteristically one at a time. The conversation went on past 9:30pm.
My great surprise was that this 600 page non-fiction book contained so many diverse topics that I shuddered to choose one to query. Would I ask about the history, The Revolutionary War, The French Revolution; politics; the culture, slavery, feminism; medicine, deaths in motherhood, typhoid fever, whooping cough and what urogenital pathology did Thomas Jefferson suffer; genealogy, family names so repetitious; inheritances; the scholarly research of over ten years, her critics and disbelievers; the law that changed over the years, its philosophy, its psychology that perpetuates the myth of race. One Carl alumn remarked that the writing spoke to several audiences; Professor Gordon responded her intent. Lastly can we discuss the families post-Monticello. Who are they? Where are they today? That is her next book.
Eleven Carls politely tossed questions and comments. Which were met with verbose answers that recaped Professor Gordon’s evidentiary text while admitting historic gaps. We queried the parodox—Jefferson’s public writing did not sufficiently describe his private life style. Or did it? When Professor Gordon presented her conclusions her voice sourced a thorough comprehension of ALL of the above mentioned topics. And more importantly was sourced in an understanding of Thomas Jerrerson as he saw himself. She reminded us as she repeatedly does in The Heminges of Monticello (some have reviewed her writing as a ‘brief’) that these times and this culture may not be respected by the modern thinking feminists in attendance. This research is meticulously footnoted showing how readings of multiple letters and historic documents require deductions. How would you describe a thirty-eight year relationship between Thomas Jefferson and Sally Hemings at Monticello? MyrnaWilliams
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Letter from Charles Dickens
Poet’s Corner
Westminister Abbey
November 1, 2009
All Saints Day
Dear Miss Williams,
Thank you for your recent communiqué which finds me well under the circumstance. What a surprise that your Carleton College book Club is reading the novel Little Dorrit! This novel format, 859 pages is unlike the original serialization in monthly magazines. These episodes were later published in small booklets then published as a novel. How kind of you to notice my well-drawn characters. Each episode required colorful descriptions; you call that “verbose.” How else could a precise illustration be secured from those lazy illustrators. My writing was published in series thus guaranteeing my continuing family income. There were ten mouths to feed not including my wife’s dear sister, Mary. If your Carleton College book Club planned on reading Nicholas Nickleby you would be meeting twice a year. Did you find that my satirical character names provided you with a hint of their role in advancing the plot?
Little Dorrit written in 1851 is a bit too personal for me to muse over in this century. But you must know that Little Dorrit’s dad was based on my dad, John. Father lost his position as a clerk in the navy pay office thanks to reforms and cutbacks in the British Admiralty. My working at Warren’s Blacking factory long hours left little time for formal schooling. Our family was impecunious. Even I was dreaming of Karl Marx. The imprisoned Mr. Dorrit in the (read as a novel), Little Dorrit was sent to debtors prison called the Marshalsea; so was my father. Mother lived with him. Perhaps your modern day psychotherapists can analyze my limited emotional development. This was the legal system during the Victorian Era. The condition at Marshalsea was a psychological punishment that went well beyond any humane considerations. My distaste for this system was increased while manually copying documents at the Solicitor’s office. The real story in Little Dorrit is a painful contemplation that imprisoning the body also diminishes the spirit. Marshalsea was the first home that Amy Dorrit knew and she never truly left did she?
As a young reporter my travels around the country to ferret out stories for True Son, Mirror of Parliament, Morning Chronicle, Monthly Magazine and The Evening Chronicle paid only in the experience it gave me. My later writings benefited from seeing people, observing human behavior and mannerisms. Eventually money came in for “Dinner at Poplar Walk” and “Sketches by Boz.” Once the publisher of the The Evening Chronicle paid me 150pounds. And this was not because I married his daughter.
While traveling and lecturing in the United States my observations of the cruelty of slavery left me wordless. And now you have that pot boiler of mine A Christmas Carol all over the IMAX. That fella Walt really knows a “tentpole” when he sees one. His block buster is simply pulp fiction written for cash, cash, cash. You would call me a hack writer! Does Mr. Disney mention my lovely bronze statue in Clark Park, Spruce Hill, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. To think some historians call me a philanderer; my preference ---a philanthropist.
Sincerely,
Boz
Westminister Abbey
November 1, 2009
All Saints Day
Dear Miss Williams,
Thank you for your recent communiqué which finds me well under the circumstance. What a surprise that your Carleton College book Club is reading the novel Little Dorrit! This novel format, 859 pages is unlike the original serialization in monthly magazines. These episodes were later published in small booklets then published as a novel. How kind of you to notice my well-drawn characters. Each episode required colorful descriptions; you call that “verbose.” How else could a precise illustration be secured from those lazy illustrators. My writing was published in series thus guaranteeing my continuing family income. There were ten mouths to feed not including my wife’s dear sister, Mary. If your Carleton College book Club planned on reading Nicholas Nickleby you would be meeting twice a year. Did you find that my satirical character names provided you with a hint of their role in advancing the plot?
Little Dorrit written in 1851 is a bit too personal for me to muse over in this century. But you must know that Little Dorrit’s dad was based on my dad, John. Father lost his position as a clerk in the navy pay office thanks to reforms and cutbacks in the British Admiralty. My working at Warren’s Blacking factory long hours left little time for formal schooling. Our family was impecunious. Even I was dreaming of Karl Marx. The imprisoned Mr. Dorrit in the (read as a novel), Little Dorrit was sent to debtors prison called the Marshalsea; so was my father. Mother lived with him. Perhaps your modern day psychotherapists can analyze my limited emotional development. This was the legal system during the Victorian Era. The condition at Marshalsea was a psychological punishment that went well beyond any humane considerations. My distaste for this system was increased while manually copying documents at the Solicitor’s office. The real story in Little Dorrit is a painful contemplation that imprisoning the body also diminishes the spirit. Marshalsea was the first home that Amy Dorrit knew and she never truly left did she?
As a young reporter my travels around the country to ferret out stories for True Son, Mirror of Parliament, Morning Chronicle, Monthly Magazine and The Evening Chronicle paid only in the experience it gave me. My later writings benefited from seeing people, observing human behavior and mannerisms. Eventually money came in for “Dinner at Poplar Walk” and “Sketches by Boz.” Once the publisher of the The Evening Chronicle paid me 150pounds. And this was not because I married his daughter.
While traveling and lecturing in the United States my observations of the cruelty of slavery left me wordless. And now you have that pot boiler of mine A Christmas Carol all over the IMAX. That fella Walt really knows a “tentpole” when he sees one. His block buster is simply pulp fiction written for cash, cash, cash. You would call me a hack writer! Does Mr. Disney mention my lovely bronze statue in Clark Park, Spruce Hill, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. To think some historians call me a philanderer; my preference ---a philanthropist.
Sincerely,
Boz
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ukjzh9X3wEA&NR=1
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WJULabqrCuw&NR=1
Can I learn this dance by our next Class at the Senior Center?
Conversation MJBlige. Move to begin grooving. Name of the song "Just Fine"
Whoo!
LF - step forward and back 3x
slide right, slide left, slide right 3X
LF - shuffle left 3 counts Cross LF over RF, alternate 7 counts
slide right, slide left ***
Left Foot - point left, tap in, out-in-out Tap right, tap left, Tap right, tap left
Right knee, left knee RF half turn, half turn RF kick front, then back
Body roll with Left foot forward, 2x LF, cross RF, tap left, step back, right-left Cross RF over LF, alternate 7 counts
slide left, slide right
RF - point right, tap in, out-in-out Tap left, tap right, Tap left, tap right
Left knee, right knee LF half turn, half turn LF kick front, then back
Body roll with right foot forward 2x (RF, cross LF, tap right, step back, right-left LF, cross RF, tap left, step back, right-left) REPEAT
LF tap out, RF tap out, turning to the LEFT 6 counts, then body roll Whoo! 3X
LF, cross RF, tap left, step back, right-left
RF kick front, RF kick side, half turn to the right and RF step back START OVER on the Right foot
! Note: After 3rd rotation, start from (***) The last rotation is "slide left, slide right" END OF DANCE http://www.theinnercircle-intl.com/ (less)
LF - step forward and back 3x slide right, slide left, slide right LF - shuffle left 3 count(…more)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WJULabqrCuw&NR=1
Can I learn this dance by our next Class at the Senior Center?
Conversation MJBlige. Move to begin grooving. Name of the song "Just Fine"
Whoo!
LF - step forward and back 3x
slide right, slide left, slide right 3X
LF - shuffle left 3 counts Cross LF over RF, alternate 7 counts
slide right, slide left ***
Left Foot - point left, tap in, out-in-out Tap right, tap left, Tap right, tap left
Right knee, left knee RF half turn, half turn RF kick front, then back
Body roll with Left foot forward, 2x LF, cross RF, tap left, step back, right-left Cross RF over LF, alternate 7 counts
slide left, slide right
RF - point right, tap in, out-in-out Tap left, tap right, Tap left, tap right
Left knee, right knee LF half turn, half turn LF kick front, then back
Body roll with right foot forward 2x (RF, cross LF, tap right, step back, right-left LF, cross RF, tap left, step back, right-left) REPEAT
LF tap out, RF tap out, turning to the LEFT 6 counts, then body roll Whoo! 3X
LF, cross RF, tap left, step back, right-left
RF kick front, RF kick side, half turn to the right and RF step back START OVER on the Right foot
! Note: After 3rd rotation, start from (***) The last rotation is "slide left, slide right" END OF DANCE http://www.theinnercircle-intl.com/ (less)
LF - step forward and back 3x slide right, slide left, slide right LF - shuffle left 3 count(…more)
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Fall Back
Somethimes we fall back on somethinkg our mother taught us in the strangest places with the strangest people. My mother taught me to knit. We sat together my first Holiday home from Carleton College. Everyone was knitting in Minnesota. Today this skill is one of my varied pleasures. Returning by January ---knit one, purl one was beating in my heart.
My favorite place to knit is on the MTA city bus. Tho one winter I knitted every weekend while traveling on the Miramar Ski Club bus to Vermont. The twenty-five knitted ski headbands were auctioned for a Waitsfield charity. In addition to headbands there were nose warmers and ear brasieres.
Knitting on the city bus is such a lark. As soon as boarding the bus I choose a window seat. Driver side going downtown in the mornings, driver side coming uptown in the evenings. The sunny side of the bus has the best light. This light is actually better than any lighted seat in my microscopic studio apartment on Manhattan's west side.
Usually I work on round needles but today's scarf project with two colors requires double pointed straight needles. Once seated my needles are gently picked up with the attached three meters of scarf in process. Frequently the scarf or the yarn or the needles need to be turned in a certain order to untangle. Then the stitching comences:knit one, purl one;knit one purl one. My eyes may linger on my knitting while my mind quietly slips out of town.
Other passengers on the city bus secretly stare as if watching my knitting was a performance of magic. Knitting is quite a magical trick. How can you turn a string so long and lean into a sweater so bulky and warm. It is magic!
It is best to sit alone in a double seat for one needs elbos room to perform magic. Once on a crowded M23 articulated crosstown bus a swarthy gentlemen sat next to me. The two balls of yarn and the scarf were in a terrible tangle while my stitches were in the middle of a row. Holding the double pointed needles in two hands it is easy not to drop stitches. But keeping the two colors on the right side of the scarf, on the right side of the needle for the knit or for the purl is a challenge.
Suddenly the yarn stopped pulling. The next stitch was impossible withourt a feed from the new color. The gentlemen sitting next to me was oblivious to my problem until I handed him the small ball of the new color yarn. When he took it; he looked at me. Then carefully he started to unwrap the two tangled yarns. It took him a few minutes as the bus rambled across 23rd street in rush hour traffic. His hands were soft and agile as his fingers cleared each section. "How did you know to do that?" "My mom taught me," he said.
My favorite place to knit is on the MTA city bus. Tho one winter I knitted every weekend while traveling on the Miramar Ski Club bus to Vermont. The twenty-five knitted ski headbands were auctioned for a Waitsfield charity. In addition to headbands there were nose warmers and ear brasieres.
Knitting on the city bus is such a lark. As soon as boarding the bus I choose a window seat. Driver side going downtown in the mornings, driver side coming uptown in the evenings. The sunny side of the bus has the best light. This light is actually better than any lighted seat in my microscopic studio apartment on Manhattan's west side.
Usually I work on round needles but today's scarf project with two colors requires double pointed straight needles. Once seated my needles are gently picked up with the attached three meters of scarf in process. Frequently the scarf or the yarn or the needles need to be turned in a certain order to untangle. Then the stitching comences:knit one, purl one;knit one purl one. My eyes may linger on my knitting while my mind quietly slips out of town.
Other passengers on the city bus secretly stare as if watching my knitting was a performance of magic. Knitting is quite a magical trick. How can you turn a string so long and lean into a sweater so bulky and warm. It is magic!
It is best to sit alone in a double seat for one needs elbos room to perform magic. Once on a crowded M23 articulated crosstown bus a swarthy gentlemen sat next to me. The two balls of yarn and the scarf were in a terrible tangle while my stitches were in the middle of a row. Holding the double pointed needles in two hands it is easy not to drop stitches. But keeping the two colors on the right side of the scarf, on the right side of the needle for the knit or for the purl is a challenge.
Suddenly the yarn stopped pulling. The next stitch was impossible withourt a feed from the new color. The gentlemen sitting next to me was oblivious to my problem until I handed him the small ball of the new color yarn. When he took it; he looked at me. Then carefully he started to unwrap the two tangled yarns. It took him a few minutes as the bus rambled across 23rd street in rush hour traffic. His hands were soft and agile as his fingers cleared each section. "How did you know to do that?" "My mom taught me," he said.
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