Bitter Rumblings and Grumblings

For those of you not keeping up, I have taken a sabbatical from work this year, in order to work on a second Masters degree (third, if you count my advanced certificate -36 credits, as much as a masters) in Political Science, possibly, if I am not too sick of school by that time, in preparation for Doctoral work (yes, I think I want a PhD before I die....an EdD would be MUCH easier (and cheaper), bur I don't think I want to go that route.

Anyway, Pre-Modern Chinese History is driving me crazy (I am sick already of the Zhou Empire, and I have 3 months to go...
Policy Analysis is all theory, and theory makes my head hurt...
Conflict Reporting is the best, but I come away angry, because my Professor only confirms for me that evil truly exists in the world...

"Mommy said there's no such thing as monsters, but there are..."
Newt, ALIENS (1986)

I just heard on the news that Congress is not giving any more money to support the war in Afghanistan until they see some progress. Most of these guys were the same ones who voted over and over again to support Bush's war in Iraq.

Obama wanted to address the schoolchildren of America. Bush did it. Reagan did it, Clinton did it. Nobody said anything except, "isn't that cute!". When Obama wants to do the same thing, they ask, "what does he want to say? FOX News says he wants to tell them how they can serve him better! He's breainwashing them! I don't trust him with my children!" The Federal government sent a lesson-plan with the address, to make life a little easier for the teachers. They ALWAYS send lesson-plans (I never used them, as they are ALWAYS crappy lessons, no matter WHO was president...). People are afraid of the lessons. He wants to TEACH them something...

Obama's "Green energy" advisor was forced out by the right-wing. All he did was sign a petition saying that there should be an inquiry into the Bush administration's handling of 9/11. And be Black, which to the right-wing seems to be crime enough.

FOX news has convinced people that the public option (which ALL nations with universal health care have) is BAD for America, because it will take away their right to give thousands of dollars a year to Blue Cross and Aetna, and get nothing back. The Right wing plan? A law requiring every American to have health insurance, and giving them a fine if they don't.


All of these things are making life tough for Obama,and the only reason I can see is that people are still nervous about him, and don't want to give him even half of the leeway they gave the village idiot he replaced...

Tonight, while driving home, I listened to SIRIUS LEFT, and heard conservative after conservative complain about President Obama. Most of what they said made little sense, but one guy bothered me in particular, when he said:

"...his plans are right out of Zelinsky's playbook..."

I probably wouldn't have noticed this, except for the fact that it was SO wrong, I started fixing it:

- It's ALINSKY, as in Sol Alinsky, NOT Zelinsky. Sol Alinsky was a left-wing community organizer in the 1930's - 1960's. He is famous for being the author of "Reveille for Radicals" and "Rules for Radicals", both of which I read, because I was a Poli-Sci major in college. I'm sure Obama has read them too, as he WAS a community organizer.

- Alinsky's "playbooks" were NOT any sort of manifesto on government. They said NOTHING about the running of government (personally, I thought the guy was an anarchist). they simply stated community organizing tactics, that cannot possibly be modified to the running of any sort of government.

- Alinsky was NOT a communist. He did not like communists (understandable, as they chased his parents out of Russia...) and thought the US Communist party was not radical enough.

The inaccurate nonsense he was spewing gave me proof-positive that the right-wing is telling people things, and they simply believe and spew them out like words in a script. I have heard this phrase before, from a right-wing talk show host, and thought, "nobody today even remembers Alinsky...", which is why the phrase caught a nerve.

These morons are memorizing a script, and saying words because they sound good, like third-graders do for a school play. The problem with third-graders however, is that they don't understand what they memorize, so they screw up their lines. They just say what they think they are supposed to say. They fear Alinsky, because of the -sky in his name, which they think HAS to be bad, because it is Russian-sounding...

I fear for the future of our nation.

Hi;

I haven’t posted anything to this page for several months now, and the reason has been more due to negligence than anything else. It’s not like I haven’t had anything to blog about – there are many topics I considered writing about:

- My back injury, which has led to three steroid injections in my back. It still has not improved, and I have not scheduled any Physical Therapy appointments yet.
- My sabbatical, which will provide me with a year off to attend college, at 70% of my salary (G-Girl, ever jealous, took one too…)
- The election of Barak Obama as President, and how the kids in school thought it was no big deal (most of them are from the Caribbean, and don’t consider themselves American anyway…).
- My trip to Montreal, for the World Science Fiction Convention.
- And several other things that have come up in the world.

One event moved me to write however, and I do not really know why that is. I was very grief-stricken when I heard about the death of Senator Edward M. (Ted) Kennedy (D-MA).

I didn’t know the man. Never met him, attended one of his rallies, or even saw him in person. Somehow, however, I feel like I suffered a personal loss; as if a member of my own family died this morning.

He always appeared bigger than life to me. Kennedy was a very rich man, who dedicated his life to helping the poor and needy of our society; a true rarity in our “greed is good” world of today.

Tonight, there will be many tributes and biographies on television, talking about his life and career, with his failed Presidential run and Chappaquidick being major showpieces, and rather than commenting on his history and biography, as has been my habit in previous posts, I will instead comment on the memorial we must create to the third longest serving US Senator.

Universal Health Care.

It will be difficult, as without him there are no 60 votes to pass it without any Republican support, there is no one to fight for it on the hill, there is no big money to run commercials in favor of it, while Blue Cross, and Glaxo, and Merck have all the money in the world to scare the tiny brains, and tell them lies about “death panels” and “sliding toward Socialism” etc. The Republicans see this as their opportunity to sink Obama, and they are willing to go to the mattresses for it, while Obama’s base has chosen public option as the hill they will live and die on. The whole thing looks as doomed as the bill on schoolhouse rock.

But, somehow, we must do it anyway.

It is the only memorial Ted Kennedy would have wanted.
It is our responsibility to him, and to future generations of Americans.

Millions of Americans cannot afford health insurance, while the rich get richer from outrageous premiums and ridiculously out of control costs.

Do you know that my diabetes medicine costs $6.00 a pill? Twice a day? Every day? Add it up. Now multiply it by all the diabetes sufferers in the US… and that’s just diabetes. What about high blood pressure? Cancer? The opposition says we can’t afford it. We can’t afford NOT to have it, at these prices…

We cannot continue this way. We cannot continue to allow the insurance companies and drug companies to get fat from our misery. If not now, then when? If they have their way, maybe never.

We must create this memorial to Kennedy, and when it is passed, I will raise a glass of Jameson to his memory and say the Dublin toast, “May you spend an hour in heaven before the devil knows you’re dead.”

Your Mind is Red

Of all the mind types, yours is the most impulsive. If you think it, you do it. And you can get the bug to pursue almost any passion. Your thoughts are big and bold. Your mind has no inhibitions. You tend to spend a lot of time thinking about love, your dreams, and distant places.

I got up around 6:30am, shaved, showered, did some schoolwork, and cleaned up my mailboxes, as I know that I cannot afford to do that using a cruise ship’s pay by the minute internet connection. I called Mom and Auntie as soon as I got up, because we had to be ready for an 11:45 departure from the hotel to the port.

When I was ready, I watched my home TV via my sling box for about an hour, and then cleaned up my TiVo. By this time it was 9:30am. I called Mom and Auntie again, and –you guessed it – they still weren’t ready. I went downstairs and had the free “Bright Side Breakfast” that LaQuinta offers. Take my word for it – don’t accept the offer.

I came back upstairs, and again watched TV for another half an hour, when I got a frantic call, informing me that it was going to be my fault if they missed breakfast and the shuttle, since I wasn’t ready on time. I reminded my mom that it was only 10:00am, and that I would meet them at the elevator. We went downstairs, where they had breakfast, and mom left auntie in the lobby while we went upstairs to get the bags.

When I got to my room, I had left my TV on HBO, and Bill Maher was interviewing Ron Howard regarding his and Andy Griffith’s support for Obama. I didn’t want to miss that, so I checked the clock, saw that I had about an hour and 45 minutes to go, so I watched the segment. Several minutes into it, my mom came banging on my door, having dragged two bags down the hall, in a panic that we would miss the shuttle. I checked my watch, and saw that we still had about an hour and fifteen minutes to departure. I informed my mom that it was only about a fifteen minute cab ride to the pier, that the ship didn’t leave until 5:00PM anyway, and that if we did miss the shuttle, the $40 cab ride would not break me.

Instead of calming her, she became even more agitated, so I said goodbye to Bill Maher, who was interviewing Gore Vidal about his experiences with Emilia Earheart anyway at that point, and went down to the lobby to sit for an hour.

At 12:00 Noon, we were finally put on the shuttle to the port. Why everyone was in a rush, I don’t know. Embarkation is known as “Turn-Around Day” in the industry, as the ship has to get passengers off, get the ship cleaned from top to bottom, and get the new passengers on, all prior to departure. “Turn-Around” takes about six hours, and no boarding can commence until it is complete. We were given our cruise-cards, and told we would have to wait until 2:00pm for the ship to be ready. This is NOT an unusual occurrence; it happens EVERY TIME we are early for the ship. I suggested that we go to the Seminole Hard Rock Casino Hotel (they could play, while I sneaked upstairs to see the room where Anna Nicole Smith died), but no, they insisted on sitting there and waiting until the ship was ready.

Finally, the ship was ready. We were taken aboard, and escorted to the Lido for late lunch. It was at that point we were told that the ship was ready but our cabins weren’t, and we were instructed to remain in the Lido until further instructed. “Oh great,” I thought. “Now we’re being held prisoner in the purgatory of the Lido. We left the earth behind on the dock, but cannot go onto the heaven of our cabins until we are deemed worthy. Dante would be proud…”

Finally, we were told that our cabins were ready, and our cruise began…

Every year, at Easter / Passover, the NYC DoE decides, in its infinite wisdom, to actually grant its (slaves) workers a week’s vacation. During this time, I usually go with my Mom and Aunt on their annual trip. The reason is very simple – I am not going to let an 82 year-old who can barely walk, and an 86 year-old who often cannot walk go on a trip somewhere by themselves. The cost of going to rescue / repatriate them would be significantly higher than jest being there to keep them out of trouble in the first place.

Every year, Mom and Auntie, or as I refer to them, Patty and Selma, vacillate over whether they want to go to Las Vegas or a Cruise. The last three years, they have chosen a cruise, and they tell me to make the arrangements.

This is more difficult than it sounds, as I have to find out what cruises are actually available during that week, filter for ones that are within their price range, filter everything that does not depart from the East Coast, and then see which ones have midship handicapped cabins available. Then, I call the travel agent and negotiate ( could call the agent first, but they try to sell you what they have, not go out and get what you want). Then I book airfare to the departing city (usually Ft. Lauderdale, Miami or San Juan), after checking for senior rates, departure times, airports, seats in the front of the aircraft, etc. I bring them all the data and they usually reject it.

After searching themselves for weeks, they decide that I had the best price after all, and they finally allowed me to book the cruise I picked in the first place, telling me that if I keep trying to learn how to do it, then one day I will have this travel stuff down pat.

Friday was the day of departure. We had a 2:45pm flight, but I told them 2:00pm, for reasons that should be apparent to anyone dealing with the elderly. We finally get to the airport, and the line for security is extremely long, as I expected on Friday midday, but what I didn’t expect was a line to get on the security line. Luckily, my Aunt was in a wheelchair, so they took us right away, much to the distain of the people waiting in line.

We made our flight to Fort Lauderdale, but didn’t arrive until 6:00pm. I was prepared for this however, and we left a day in advance of the sailing date. I had found a hotel that provides free transportation from the airport to the hotel, and free transportation from the hotel to the cruise ship port.

We got take-out for dinner, and I went back to my room, where I made several SKYPE calls, and went to bed.

Minor_Goddess seems to feel slighted that I did not mention the time we took the SNF night ferry from Dover, England to Dieppe, France, and had to spend the night with a bunch of German skinheads. BTW - I'm Black, Minor_Goddess is Jewish (and looks like the stereotype for Eastern European Jews, so yes, they KNEW she was Jewish)...Fun times, fun times...This was before the EUROSTAR, which is the only way that G_Girl has ever crossed the channel (in First Class, yet).

This also reminded me of the time when I rented a car in New Orleans, got a BIG, WHITE CADILLAC totally by mistake (only car they had left, so I got it for the economy price)and G_Girl, who is also Black, Minor_Goddess, and another friend of ours, who also looks like the Eastern European Jewish Stereotype, got lost somewhere between New Orleans and Baton Rouge, in some town that looked like it was right out of "Deliverance". Ask G_Girl about it sometime. It wasn't one of her finer moments...

In the movie, “Romy and Michelle’s High School Reunion”, there’s a scene where Romy and Michelle are reminiscing about all their terrible experiences throughout High School, and how badly they were treated by the rest of the students. At the end of the scene, Romy says to Michelle, “…but you know what? I never thought we were having a bad time, because we were together...”

A couple of months ago, Minor_Goddess asked me to finish my previous travelogue, and tell what else happened on the trip to Europe. About two weeks ago, Natalyn also asked me why I never finished it. She also mentioned that it sounded like we had a horrible time, and that I may have scared her off foreign travel.

G_Girl was talking to one of our mutual friends, and told them it was “The trip from Hell” and that it was terrible. This got me thinking, and maybe I should take a minute to clarify a few things, at least from my perspective, looking back at the trip some nine months later.

It is important to remember that I have traveled on four different continents, over a twenty year period. The one thing I have learned is that no matter how well you plan, or what you do, something always goes wrong. The key is to get past it, and see the good times that it brought you, appreciate having someone to go through it all with, and know that, eventually, everyone got home and everything did get better in the end.

I could talk about how I was (almost) pickpocketed in the Rome subway, or how we got stuck in the middle of Venice at night (and there are no taxis, subways, buses or streetlights in Venice), or the rich moron on the plane home who refused to accept we were in First Class, and acted as though we didn’t belong there, or the untold G_Girl story, that I have been told NOT to discuss under pain of death, or about twenty other minor annoyances that happened on that trip.

I would, instead, prefer to focus on the sight of that big ship going down the Grand Canal in Venice, seeing a sight from a vantage point that only a small portion of the people on this planet will ever have access to. Or walking the narrow streets of Lucca, Italy, as I drank a coke and ate the BEST glazed peanuts I have ever had in life. These experiences, though small, balance out all of the awful things we had to go through to get to them.

Once, G_Girl mentioned that one of her colleagues said that there is no need to travel, because everything you need to know about a place and its people are in books, and you can read about it. I was highly offended, and reminded her that of course you can get a book to tell you about China, but it is an extremely different thing to have Peking Duck in Beijing, have your picture taken in Tianamen Square by Chinese students who had never seen a Black person before, have a “Hot Pot” with a student from Beijing University, who honestly wanted to know about America, and about a hundred other small but touching memories.

When G_Girl says, “…remind me why we are doing this…?” I get upset. Yes, everything didn’t go as planned, but I can say I had Pizza in Rome, Pastries in Venice, Schnitzel in Berlin, Czech Beer in Prague, Guinness at the Sky Bar and saw the bullet holes in the wall of the Post Office where Michael Collins was shot in Dublin, waked the streets and had a pint where “the troubles” took place in Londonderry, Northern Ireland, shopped at Harrods in London, had fish& chips at a seaside stand in Brighton (before they banned the use of traditional newspaper as packaging), ate subway sushi in Tokyo, decided not to eat the street sushi in Seoul, bought bootleg DVD’s in Hong Kong and Shanghai, and saw the Pizza Hut across the street from the Great Pyramids of Giza.

Yes, this most recent trip left my bank account a few thousand dollars poorer (including a couple thousand I did not expect to spend), but I wouldn’t trade any of these experiences for any amount of money. Looking back at it, none of the problems were so bad, because I had either G-Girl or Minor_Goddess (sometimes both of them) with me, and that made the trip fun.

…Just like Romy and Michelle.

Yesterday, I started out not feeling well, and as the day went on, it only got worse. By 12 noon, I couldn't hear anything with my right ear, and had faint hearing in my left.

I could tell by experience and the nature of the swelling that it was a sinus infection, so didn't panic, as I had an appointment (6-week Diabetes checkup)already scheduled with my Doctor for today, and it would be easier (and cheaper) to get him to write a prescription for a course of antibiotics, than to see the specialist who usually just looks at it for 10 seconds, says, "you have a sinus infection", stamps a prescription with an antibiotic, and charges me $20 and GHI $135 for his sage wisdom.

I decided to go home early though, despite my Principal's reluctance to release me for the remaining 2 1/2 hours of the day, because experience has also taught me that a NYC High School is not a good place to be if you cannot hear, as you may miss important bits of information such as, "HELP!", "DUCK!" or "GUN!" (all of which I have heard during my career as an educator...).

I stopped off at the local Chinese Take-out, bought a container of Chicken Noodle Soup, went home, changed clothes, tasted soup, decided that I could do better if I was blindfolded and resolved to do so tomorrow (sans blindfold, of course), and turned on my kitchen TV.

After channel-surfing for several minutes (do you have ANY IDEA how many "Judge" type shows are on during the middle of the day???) , I stopped on CBS, which was showing "Dr. Phil". Under normal circumstances, I would never waste my time with such tripe, BUT, the portable DVD player was in the closet and the TiVo is hooked up to the one in the living room, so I was stuck.

Dr. Phil's guest that day was Ann Coulter, the Conservative (read "Fascist") talkshow host and semi-female mouthpiece for the right wing (read "Nazis"). Although she tends to sicken me, I always think it is a good idea to pay attention to the enemy, as it gives you insight to what they are thinking (though "thinking" and "right wing" are an oxymoron...), and gain valuable clues into how to defeat them.

On this day, Coulter was discussing President Obama's inauguration and first few days in office. Firstly, she was appalled that the crowd at the inauguration "booed" Bush when he came out of the capitol building, because "...nobody booed Carter at Reagan's inauguration". She was also upset that President Obama didn't say anything nice about Bush in his speech.

Secondly, she took issue with Obama's Economic Stimulus Plan. She said that it was a "little make-work plan", and that "building a few bridges would not save the economy". She thought that we should pour more money into the economy, because "these things run in cycles of about 18 months and we are already 17 months into it, so we will come out of it soon anyway." After hearing this, I realized why the right-wing says such stupid things all the time. They must have all flunked American History and Economics.

At the beginning of the Great Depression, Herbert Hoover was advised by the great industrialists of the era that the depression was only temporary, and that we would come out of it quickly, with an even stronger economy than before. Henry Ford referred to the Depression as "economic darwinism", a "shaking out" of all the shoeshine boys and newspaper hawkers who had gotten into the market during the "roaring '20's, and didn't really have the capital or the right to be there.

Hoover took this advice,and made many speeches, in which he said that, "We have been through the worst of it, and prosperity is just around the corner..." It took nine years and a World War for the United States to turn that corner last time, not the 18 months she's claiming that "these things take".

Obama's "little Make-work plan" is simply a modernized version of Roosevelt's WPA, which was proven to be a success during the Great Depression. Not to mention the fact that we NEED bridges (as all of the ones in this nation are collapsing)and more energy efficient housing and buildings. Roosevelt called it "pump-priming", as he knew that if you put people to work, they put money into the economy through spending and taxes, not take it out in the form of welfare (or "relief" as it was called at the time...)or unemployment insurance. Although the US did not have complete recovery until 1938, when Hitler attacked Poland and the production of war materials started, the economy started to improve in 1933, immediately after the implementation of the WPA.

Coulter's other assertion, that we should pour more money into the corporate sector, didn't work in 1930, and we have already seen, by the behavior of the banking and auto industries, that it will not work now. She and her cronies on the right, would have us believe that the way to solve this crisis is to simply give more money to the people who already got us into this mess in the first place, but that is like saying, let's cure his alcoholism by giving him more Vodka. He will build up a tolerance for it, it will have no effect on him, and he will stop drinking. Unfortunately, I don't think it works that way...

On balance, Obama's plans DO have merit, and are worth a try. The Right does not want these plans to work, as they will have to once again suffer the indignities of regulation, which they were not able to rid themselves of until the Reagan era. The Right operates on the primal instincts of fear and prejudice, but that thinking will not solve our very real problems today.

The Ann Coulters of the world would have you believe these problems are easily solved, and that the rich and the powerful will do all the thinking for us, while everyone else sticks to their station in life and counts on big brother to fix everything. We cannot rely on them anymore, and if we let them continue to practice their subjective form of capitalism, then democracy will soon join Communism in the dustbin of history.

By the way - it wasn't a sinus infection, just congestion in the sinus cavities. He said ASTELIN will cure it, gave me a hand-written prescription and a note to stay home on Monday. Boy, am I glad I didn't go to the specialist...

minor_goddess called me, and said, "you didn't post!"

To which I replied, "When was the last time I posted?"

minor_goddess said, "November 11th." "I will post when I have something worthwhile to say..." I said, beginning to wonder what this was all about.
"You mean, you don't know...? She asked, incredulously. "Know what?" I followed up.

Finally getting to the point, minor_goddess said, "Bettie Page died. I was sure you would have some insights or thoughts to share..." T

The truth is, I never knew much more about Bettie Page than anyone else. After she retired from modeling, she lived a Garbo-esque life in Florida, and her vanity would not allow any current pictures to be taken of her.

I knew that she was from Tennessee, and assumed that she thought like many other people of her era, but recently found out that this was not the case, and if she can read this wherever she is, I apologize for thinking ill of her.

I knew that she struggled with mental illness, and had become a reborn Christian, working for Billy Graham, but very little else.

But maybe that's the point.

The "girl next door" is only a fantasy if you get to look, but not touch.

Bettie Page represented everyone's "girl next door", the one you saw naked when she happened past her window, or saw nude sunbathing on the backyard lawn. You knew she was a "good girl", but deep down, you figured there was some "bad girl" in her, waiting to be released.

Bettie had a perfect body, especially for people like me that admire the 1950's full-figured / curvy look, and can't figure out what the rest of the world sees in a twig like Jennifer Anniston.

She was often photographed in lingerie, and many times in S&M scenes. Most women wouldn't look sexy like that, but Bettie was every man's special little fantasy... But, believe it or not, I always thought that perfect body was a second to her most beautiful feature - her beautiful eyes. No matter how she posed, or how little she wore, those eyes made her appear innocent.

My cousin, a female Pentecostal minister, once told me that a good woman is "...a lady in the street, and a whore in the bedroom..." this was the fantasy that Bettie Page sold to the fanboys. In writing her obituary, her agent put it best when he said:

"The girl with the trademarked black bangs, fabulous killer curves, and sweet smile, grew up loving movies, and dreamed of a film career. She should have been the next Marilyn Monroe. But her story is an impossible incursion of near misses, bad luck and lost opportunities. Full of contradictions, some have called her "The Dark Angel," for good reason, and for more reasons than one. Sometimes Bettie Page's puzzling persona both attracts us and repels us at the same time."

Rest in Peace, Bettie Page. You will never be forgotten.... - 30 -

Americans don’t know their history.

On Monday of last week, a student asked me why we had no school tomorrow. I told him it was a holiday, Veteran’s Day. This 17 year-old then told me he knew it was a day off, but he didn’t know why.

Last Tuesday was Veteran’s Day.

In the United States; everywhere else on earth, it was either called Armistice Day, or Remembrance Day. In France, Britain and Germany, it is a somber occasion, and a day of National mourning. The BBC even gave its people poises to wear, as symbols of the commemoration. They wore them for two weeks preceding the event. In the US, however, we changed the name to Veterans Day in 1951, to appease “the Greatest Generation”, rather than giving them their own, well-deserved holiday. Most Americans have even forgotten about it. Small wonder, since there was almost no national press coverage about it.

It was the 90th Anniversary of Armistice Day.

On the 11th day of the 11th month of 1918, an Armistice was declared, ending the First World War. The Armistice had actually been agreed to five hours earlier, but it was not set to take effect until 11:00AM, to give the information time to get to everyone. In between the signing and the actual armistice, there was some of the fiercest fighting of the war, with both sides racking up huge casualties.

It is meant to commemorate the end of the Great War.

The First World War was, for many years, called, “The Great War”, or “The War to End All Wars”. It was thought that the introduction of TNT, tanks, Airplanes, the machine gun (the original “WMD’s”) Fluorine Gas, Mustard Gas (the original biochemical weapons and first nerve gases), the madness and carnage that had taken place would scare the world powers enough that there would never be another war. It didn’t quite work out that way…

There is just one living Veteran of the Great War.

A man by the name of Frank R. Buckles, of West Virginia. For many years, I checked on this by looking at the Veterans Administration Web Site, and watched the numbers trickle down geometrically each year. Four years ago, there were six veterans. As of November 11, there was only one left. When Mr. Buckles passes on, there will be none. Verdun, The Marne, Gallipoli, etc. will just be names on maps, with a few trees to bear witness to the events that once happened there. Everyone will forget that the French wine they drink comes from vines fertilized with the blood of brave young men.

My Grandfather was a World War I veteran.

He died in 1978. My Grandfather never talked much about the war; once, when I was a child, I asked him why he was a Republican (as most Blacks were Democrats in the 1960’s and 70’s…). He replied, “The last time I voted for a Democrat, I wound up in France in 1917…” He also commented that French girls thought Blacks had tails, because that’s what the White soldiers told them. I guess that’s why I care. As long as someone who was there is alive, my Grandfather is not gone. When Mr. Buckles is gone, there will be no living connection anymore.

I miss my Grandfather.

I think of him every Armistice Day. I still call it Armistice Day (I also still refer to Tuberculosis as “Consumption”), in his memory. And I truly wish, in an era where we have troops who fought in Iraq and Afghanistan, buried next to troops who fought in France, Italy, Germany, Morocco, Korea, Vietnam, Somalia, and many other places too numerous to name, that it had been the last one…

paperwork. The teacher lunches in schools are the same thing as the student lunches, except we pay for them and have a salad bar. They are also portion-controlled, so I did not have any more than anyone else.

One day, one of the female Phys-Ed teachers walked over to me, sat down uninvited, and said, without prompting, warm-up, or introduction, “doesn’t it bother you to be so overweight?”

I was used to people making insensitive comments about my weight, so I simply looked at her, and replied, “I’ve been fat my whole life, and it never bothered me. What does bother me is the number of people who think it is their business to tell me how much it bothers them.” She quickly became annoyed with me, got up and left.

Fast-forward to last night and Obama (yes, the two stories ARE related…)

Obama was NOT my candidate. I did not think he presented enough details on his ideas for me to assess their feasibility. My candidate was originally John Edwards, but that ended when he dropped out of the race. I would have preferred to support Dennis Kucinich, but he also dropped out early. Hillary Clinton is my Senator, and I can’t stand her. She does nothing useful for New York, and spent her entire freshman Senate term running for President. I figured that if she won, however, maybe “slick Willie” can help her dig us out of the Bush mess. When Obama won the nomination, I said, “Well, at least he’s not McCain…”

Then he won the Presidency.

There was jubilation and celebration throughout the neighborhood until well into the night. The Black kids I work with (I did not call them African-Americans, because many of them are from the Caribbean, and they object to the term…) were all happy and excited. My Mom was happy, because she said, “I never thought I would get the chance to put a Black man in the White House...). Everyone is happy and excited.

Except me.

I felt nothing. Only relief that McCain didn’t win, and happiness that the Democrats took the House and Senate. But my excitement would not have been any different if Edwards, Kucinich, or Clinton had won.



I don’t feel, or understand, this “Black joy” at having “one of us” in the White House.

Maybe I should, but I really don’t relate to it. I guess it is because I never really saw myself as “Black”. I’m full-blooded American Black man, with Great-Great Grandparents who were slaves in Virginia, but I just don’t identify with the “Black” thing.

The only time I actually think of myself as “Black”, is when the people around me remind me of it.

Like, when I was in College, and whenever I kissed my girlfriend at the time in public, people would stare, yell obscenities, spit on us, or otherwise make me feel uncomfortable that I was dating a White girl. I never actually thought about her being “White”; to me, she really was just “Michelle”; but other people thought they needed to point out to me that she was “White, Jewish Michelle” and consequently, was out of bounds. Even her parents referred to me as, “The Hershey Bar”. I broke up with her, because I couldn’t take the pressure anymore, and have been ashamed of myself for bowing to it ever since.

Or, when I made appointments for various things over the telephone, and went to see about it in person. Over the phone, I was perfect, maybe because growing up in an ethnically diverse community and attending a High School that was 75% White, 20% Chinese and about 5% Black eliminated any hope of a Black accent in my voice. But when they saw me in person, I was suddenly all wrong, or the price was significantly higher, or some other clue was dropped that “Niggers” weren’t wanted.

One day, while I was driving my Acura (now long-gone), and stopped at the gas station, I also decided to wash the car at the self-service car-wash there. Minor_Goddess got out of the car, and as usual, did nothing to help me with it, instead choosing to try and look cute and live up to her name. For those of you who don’t know her personally, Minor_Goddess is White. That IS important to the story.

A White man walked up to us, and wanted to know how much I was charging her to wash her car. I got angry, and told him off. He left, but seemed to think it was a natural error. On the way home, I needed some groceries, so I stopped at a PathMark, and we went in. When I came out, a child looked at me, her, the car, the groceries, and said, “I ain’t never seen no cab like that before…” I tried to explain that it was my car and groceries, but he was confused, saying that I had to be a cab, because I got a White lady in it.

In all these events, things that never occurred to me seemed clearly obvious to all these people. Things that didn’t bother me started to, when I was reminded of them.

My Race bothered all of these people, just the way my weight bothered the gym teacher. To them, it was obvious. To me, it only became obvious when someone pointed it out. I still feel nothing special about the election results. I wonder, why not…?

Maybe it was the fact that, in comparison to my experiences in Poland, anyplace else would have seemed like Heaven. We DEFINITELY had a much easier time in Prague.

In contrast to our hotel in Poland, a low-budget clip-joint, our hotel inn Prague was an immaculate property built into the hill on which Prague Castle is situated. The staff was very helpful and attentive, and the room, with its marble bath, flat-screen TV, generous working area with free internet, and wonderfully soft beds, was easily comparable to the Fairmont Chicago, The New World Renaissance Hong Kong, or the Parc55 San Francisco, all of which are certainly more expensive properties.

We didn't have much time in Prague, out of necessity, so we intended to make the most of it. We immediately went out and sampled the local cuisine, and had the local beer - atfer all, it's what Prague is famous for - before sightseeing and souvenir shopping.

Prague is very hilly, and everything is either at the bottom or top of a steep climb. We were not in shape for prague, and it wore us out totally.

After dinner, we went bacck to our hotel, where I utilized the free internet to call Minor_Goddess with a progress report, check up on my Mom, and make reservations for a taxi back to the airport the next day, all using SKYPE.

I then decided to REALLY take advantage of the free internet, and logged onto my Slingbox at home to watch live NYC TV news and that week's episode of BURN NOTICE, before we went to bed.

The next morning, we hurriedly washed, dressed, packed and went to the lobby to check out. it was there that the hotel wanted to know how much we were paying the taxi,and said that their driver would match it. Thy then cancelled our reservaton for us, and had the driver take us to the airport.

As soon as we arrived, I remembered that I had left my insulin in the mini-bar, and had to go back to the hotel for it, then return to the airport. G-girl said we were lucky, because : (1) I would have been in serious trouble if i had forgotten the insulin completely (2 ) If we had remembered it five minutes later, the driver would have been gone, and e would have had to get a taxi back at whatever rate they charged, (3) we had left the hotel uncharicaristically early, so we had plenty of time to go back.

I thought we were unlucky, because the driver charged us for THREE trips!

We got to the check-in counter for czech Airlines, who told us (again) that our baggage was overweight (again) and that we would have to pay (more) baggage fees. This time, the fee came to $280 for both of us.

The flight was uneventful, and we landed at Treviso Airport in Venice, to find that there was no representative of the cruise line to meet us. when we called and asked why, we were told that they only pick up at Venice International (VCE) and we would have to get to the terminal on our own.

When G-Girl stopped cursing, she recruited a cab for the trip, while I got more money. She found one who knew where the port was and was willing to do it for 70 Euro (about $150). After about an hour's ride and tons of trouble getting there, 'we finally arrived at the ship, checked in, ate lunch and set off to see Venice.

rip to Venice, Part 5 – The Problems of Travel

After we left Auschwitz-Birkenau, it was time to take the train back to Warsaw. Due to the obvious complexity of buying train tickets from people speaking Polish, we thought it would be better to buy our train tickets from American Express Travel Service before we left home. The tickets arrived three days prior to our departure, and I promptly put them into my carry-on. Going out to Auschwitz was fine, but trying to return to Warsaw – not so good...

We got on the little one-car, 10mph train and started off. As the train was beginning its trip however, we heard banging on the rest room door. It seems that some teenagers on a summer school trip had gotten on the train with us, and one had managed to lock himself in. The conductor spent a lot of time trying to free him, but eventually he gave up, and didn't let him out until Krakow. This delayed his ticket checking for several stops.

When he finally got to us, he looked at our tickets, and said they were no good. Since his English was poor (but better than my Polish), he couldn't explain in detail, but got one of the students to translate for him. She explained that instead of Auschwitz to Krakow and Krakow to Warsaw Central, the ticket said, Auschwitz to Katowice and Katowice to Warsaw Central. Being totally ignorant of Polish geography, I did not know that Katowice is on the other side of Poland from Warsaw. He made us pay for the ticket from Auschwitz to Krakow, and said to take the ticket to the booth for a replacement.

In Krakow, however, they were unwilling to change the ticket, because they claimed that they were still good – for Katowice to Warsaw. The fact that we were on the other side of Poland, and had no way of reaching Katowice from Krakow didn't seem to make any difference to them. We were forced to buy new tickets to Warsaw, at a cost of 306 Zloty ($150), and wait another 2 hours fr the next train. We found a local mall, and had Polish food for dinner. Most of the poles however seemed to be frequenting an establishment named KFC that claimed to do chicken right...

We boarded the 10:10PM train, which was due into Warsaw Central Station at 01:40AM. Not the most desirable of situations, since we were flying to Prague the next day, but it would have to do. At that hour, there was no one else in our compartment, so we felt comfortable locking our daypacks to the seats and sleeping until Warsaw.

It is important to note here that most European cities have several train stations, ofen along the same line. If you see “Warsaw”, it isn't necessarily YOUR “Warsaw”. We awoke in time to see the train pull into North Warsaw, but the conductor told us that it wasn't our stop, so we sat back down and waited. Eventually, the train stopped in Warsaw Central, but the conductor said that the train wasn't in the station yet, so we waited some more.

As we waited, the train changed crews, and some stereotypical Polish-looking female conductors boarded the train. The train moved a few more feet, but nobody opened the door to our car, nor did anyone else get off. I said to G-Girl, “this can't be it either, because people would be getting off at the central train station for Warsaw.”

G-Girl asked one of the burly female conductors if this was our stop, and she just smiled, shrugged her shoulders ad walked off. Then the train started moving again, and G-Girl asked someone else if we arrived at Warsaw Central. This man, who spoke English, said, “you just missed it.” G-Girl went into a panic and started yelling that they have to let us off! The English-speaking man said, “It's too late – this train is going to Bratislava. But calm down lady; there is a short stop at East Warsaw. Just get off there and take a taxi back.” As soon as we saw signs and a platform, we opened the door and hopped out. Then we ran downstairs and I found a cab which took us back to Warsaw Central for 100 Zloty ($50). G-Girl said that the female conductors did it on purpose, because one of them was “grillin' her up and down”, and was laughing as we got off the train. I said to forget it. We got back to our hotel room at 03:00AM, packed and caught two hours sleep before our flight to Prague.

rip to Venice, Part 4 – Auschwitz.

One of the reasons we went to Poland in the first place was to see the Nazi Death Camp at Auschwitz. Our interest in this began during our trip to Berlin about 2 years ago, during which we visited Dachau. Although I thought I knew about the camps, I discovered that there was much that I didn't know about the subject, and had an excellent guide who showed me many areas of Dachau not normally shown to the public. One thing she said made my skin crawl however, and I will always remember it. One man on the tour said, “the six million”, to which she replied, in a very matter-of-fact tone, “Oh, we killed way more than that.”

She had suggested that if we were really interested in the subject, we should really visit the Auschwitz-Birkenau site in Poland. It is important to remember that most of the death camps were in Poland, not Germany, and that the Nazis eliminated approximately 90% of the Jews in Poland. This however, only tells part of the story of the camps.

Many other people, including Sinti-Roma Gypsies (who died in even larger percentages, relative to their population size) were also eliminated at the camps. As a child, I was always taught to “remember the 6,000,000 jews who died in the Holocaust.” In college, I learned about the other 6,000,000 who were not Jewish, but also died in the camps. At Dachau, I learned that it was probably closer to 8,000,000 non-jews (that the German government admits to...) including Russians (many of whom died in cruel experiments which made the US space program possible), American Female POWs (shuttle-pilots), and whole towns that were just “in the way”.

In Auschwitz, I learned that there is no accurate count of just how many were killed by the Nazis. The figure of 12-14 million only counts the ones who were not immediately executed. There were many others – the sick, young children, the physically challenged, etc. - who were immediately killed and no record was ever kept of them. Poland paid the highest price of the war, both in terms of jews and non-jews. The true scope and scale of this horror is unimaginable, and that is probably what has given birth to the legions of Holocaust deniers, like the President of Syria.

Auschwitz-Birkenau, a UNESCO world heritage site, is actually two camps, Auschwitz and Auschwitz II. the larger of the two camps, Auschwitz II was later called Birkenau. Treblinka is also not far from these two, but it is not in restored condition, and not commonly visited. The camps were given the German names of the towns where they are located. The complexes are unbelievably huge and are very well-preserved, considering they are at least 70 years old. The closest big-city to them is Krakow (about 50 miles), but we did it from Warsaw (over 200 miles).

When I began researching this about a year ago, several Polish tourist agencies told me that (a) it was impossible to do a day-trip to Auschwitz, because of its distance from Warsaw, (b) That the train schedules do not allow for a one-day round trip, and (c) the only way to do it was by private car and driver. I rarely accept NO for an answer though, and kept on checking on all the European rail sites. Eventually, I found out through DB (Deutsch-Bahn – the German national railroad) that all of these things were wrong, and that you CAN make the trip in one day, but based on my experience on this trip, I would not advise it.

We got up, dressed, ate breakfast at McDonalds (that ALONE is a real story...) and caught the 8:05 AM from Warsaw Central Station to Krakow (a three hour train ride). We had reserved seats in the first-class car, and had some difficulty finding our seats, but eventually settled in. The long-distance trains look like the ones in the old spy movies, and there were only two other people in our compartment.

When we got to Krakow at 10:55AM, we needed to find out what platform and track the train to Auschwitz was on, and G-Girl needed the ladies room. We were supposed to catch the 11:05, but by the time we found it, the train was gone, and we had to wait until the 13:10PM train. The three minutes of lateness cost us two hours at the camp, and eliminated any chance of seeing Birkenau. As we waited, we grabbed some lunch and walked around the station.

When the train pulled in, it was one car, and when it departed, it moved at about 10 miles an hour. The trip took two hours and made a local stop every five minutes, through some very ugly and depressed rural Polish communities; we found it to be more tiring than the four hour trip from Warsaw.

On arrival at Auschwitz, you still need to get to the camp. There is a bus, but it takes a long time between runs. A junkie at the train station said it was only a 2-mile walk down the road, so we chose that option. Eventually, we got to the camp, and we took the tour, which walks you through the big iron gates of the camp, marked “Arbit Macht Frei” (“Work makes you free” ) the motto of the death camps. You are shown various exhibits, such as the brush room (a room filled with brushes of all types and description) the Hair room (filled with human hair) and the artificial limb room (you guessed it...).

There is a different feeling to Auschwitz than Dachau. At Dachau, it seems as if the goal of the German government is to teach you about what they have done, and at the same time, show you that it is the result of their circumstances at the time, and that any other nation, if they are not careful, could do the same thing. They are unapologetic, and just want people to get past it. At Auschwitz, the Polish government seems to want you to know what evil bastards the Germans are, and how the Russians were just as bad because they were enablers for the Germans. Their own prejudices and hatreds are clear, and instead of discussing the history on an intellectual basis, the Poles instead work on a more basic, emotional level intended to promulgate their own racism.

After several hours, we had to leave, and as depressing as the place is, by then we were quite ready to go.

Trip to Venice, Part 3 – Deeper and deeper...

(Cue “Flash Gordon” music in the background... No, not the “Flesh Gordon” cheesy porn music – that CERTAINLY doesn't apply HERE! We want the Hero music from “Flash Gordon's Trip to Mongo” - Buster Crabbe, 1938. bum-didi-bum-didi-bum didi-bum...Yeah, that's the one...)

Having arrived in Poland, our intrepid heroes set off to discover the city and all that it holds for them, but first they must defeat the dreaded hotel front-desk clerk at the Holiday Inn Warsaw...

“Can I help you?”

“Yes, we'd like to check in. We have a PRICELINE.COM reservation...”

(clerk looks at my real name, then looks it up in the computer. Finds reservation easily - PRICELINE.COM is usually quite good at that, and I never have any
trouble with them in terms of checking in with them...)

“Oh, yes. Here it is. It is prepaid (look of disappointment creeps across desk clerk's face). How will you be covering the incidentals?” (I give him my AMERICAN EXPRESS card. Then the fun begins... The clerk asks) “wold you like to use the mini-bar?”

(as I am diabetic, and require the frig for my insulin supply, I need the mini-bar.) I reply, “yes, I would”

The clerk replies, “Okay, that will be 20 Zloty ($9.70) a day.”

Surprised, I ask, “What about the stuff in the Mini-Bar?”

The clerk says, “Each item is priced according to the list in the room.”

I ask, “So we have to pay to HAVE it, then pay again to USE anything in it...?”

“Yes.” , he says, giving me a look that says, “that's what I said, stupid...”

“Oh. Okay, as long as we got that one straight...” (what choice did I have? My Insulin had already been out of the refrigerator for 9 hours flight time, plus 2 hours waiting at Newark, plus 3 hours in the cab. I was worried about it spoiling, and I couldn't go for 16 days without it. Two okay, maybe five tops, but not 16.)

The clerk then asks, “what about internet?”
I say, “yes, I do need Internet, as well.”

He says, “that will be 96 Zloty ($47) a day”.

I pull out my Blackberry, and do the exchange rate calculation. “That's rather excessive, isn't it?”

“That's what we charge...” was his answer.

Since we were tired, and were only staying 2 days, I figured that it would be (a) easier than trying to find an Internet cafe, and (b) negotiate a Polish keyboard. After all, why else did we drag two notebooks across the Atlantic? Besides, I rationalized, it would pay for itself in SKYPE usage alone... I took it.

The bellman showed us to our room, and tried to explain, in broken english, how the lights worked. Since this was not my first time in a European hotel, I already knew the secret of putting the card in the slot by the door, so this was no surprise. Neither was his hanging around for a tip.

The room was small (by American standards) and rather spartan. There were two beds, a bathroom with soap and shampoo, a TV, a dresser and a mini-bar. A few minutes later, the bellman came up again and unlocked the mini-bar. He seemed disappointed that there was no tip for this extra effort on his part. The prices in the Mini-bar were what you would expect them to be, so we didn't use anything in it. I plugged the LAN cable into my computer, but couldn't get online. G-Girl called the front desk to ask what we were doing wrong, and they said that you had to activate it on the television. We tried that, and it still didn't work. She called again, and they explained it again, to no result again.

When I asked for a refund of the Internet charges, they said, “sorry, no refunds.”

“But it didn't work...” I protested.

“No refund once we activate it. Sorry.” I wonder how many people they catch with THIS scam...

We went across the street to the local mall, which looks like any mall in Brooklyn, in search of an ATM and food. Eventually, we found both. Walked around a bit and saw the tourist sights of Warsaw, then hit the beds to prepare for our big day...the trip to Auschwitz.

Trip to Venice- Part 2 – A Portend of Doom...

Have you ever had the feeling that, despite your best efforts at planning, things were about to go horribly, irreparably wrong? That no matter how you tried to stave him off, you could feel the scythe of the Grim Reaper as it gleamed behind you, and knew somehow that if this was a horror movie playing in a movie theater in a Black neighborhood, there would be hundreds of people yelling, “YO! Look out behind you, dog...!” as Grim chuckles softly behind you in an evil tone (while Mandy complains she is bored and Billy has his thumb stuck up his butt...)

But it's not a movie, not even one on Cartoon Network, and even though you can't place where these feelings come from or the reasons for them, somehow you know this is not going to be one of your better trips. All you can do at that point is “man-up”, soldier through it, and hope that things get better.

The beginning of this trip was pretty much every nightmare I have ever had about travel, all brought to flesh and into reality in some sadistic perversion of the travel commercials you see that tell you to visit exotic places and meet interesting people. What they don't tell you is that those “exotic” places are often difficult to navigate, and those “interesting” people all want to empty your wallet as quickly and efficiently as possible.

On July 15, G-Girl and I grabbed a cab from my home in Brooklyn, NY to Newark International Airport to catch our flight to Barcelona. G-Girl had car trouble, which significantly delayed her arrival. I, on the other hand, was trying to pack my carry-on bag, and could not get it closed.

For those who do not know me well, I am an electronics nut, and go through separation anxiety if I am away from any of my gadgets or their portable counterparts for too long. I have worked hard over the past several years to reduce the amount of gadgets I carry, which has only served to create new space which was quickly filled by new gadgets (“Nature abhors a vaccum...”).

I solved my problem the way any red-blooded American would have – I bought a larger carry-on. The largest carry-on allowed by the airlines. Yet, it still wasn't large enough for everything. I elected to leave some items home, and pack others in my luggage. The only things I carried on were the things I HAD to carry – computer, brick, mouse, mousepad, thumb drive, portable HD, PSP, I-Pod, magazines, comic books, SLR camera and lenses, Point-and-Shoot camera (the “back-up”, in case the SLR breaks or its battery fails – it happened on my last trip to Europe), passport, medications, money, tickets, hotel reservations, change of clothing and wash kit. Even after reducing it to these minimal items, I still couldn't close it. Finally, I decided to leave the carry-on open, and just be real careful.

We had planned to leave at 3:00PM, and finally left at 4:15PM. Although we were late, it still should have been plenty of time for a 7:10 PM flight from Newark, which is only about 45 minutes from my residence, if traffic is good.

Notice, I said, “If traffic is good”. It wasn't. The god of NYC transit (I think his name is Michael R. Bloomberg) was not smiling on our trip and we were stuck in lower Manhattan for three hours. We missed our flight. Luckily, there was another in two hours, but that fight would not get us to Barcelona until 11:30 AM. Our flight to Warsaw was at 12:30PM, and those tickets were on CLICKAIR, a small European regional that only had one flight that day. We would have to get off the plane, go through customs at Barcelona, find the CLICKAIR terminal, check in, go through security, find the gate and board the plane. All in an hour. We knew that AIN'T happening. After baggage claim, I began to search for viable alternatives. I discovered that LOT Polish Airlines had a flight at 3:30PM, but knew they would not take the CLICKAIR tickets. We would have to either (a) get a hotel in Barcelona, wait until the next day, and try to get CLICKAIR to let us fly (if they had standby space), or buy new tickets on LOT.

We elected to go with LOT. The tickets cost us $400 for the pair, which we did not plan on spending. This was already putting a strain on our trip finances which we knew would be already stretched by the weak dollar (Thank you, Mr. Bush...).

All things considered, LOT was not NEARLY as bad an airline as Minor_Goddess had led me to believe. The flight crew and terminal staff were nice, and they still serve food on flights less than 2 hours (it was stereotypical Polish food – Pirogies, cabbage rolls, brown bread, pickles), the plane was neat and was ably-piloted. Based on this flight, I would easily choose LOT over many other airlines such as CHINA AIR, Austrian Airlines, and DELTA.

We landed in Warsaw, Poland and had to find a car to get to the hotel. One guy picked us up, and said that he would charge the metered rate. After a 10-minute walk, we arrived at his car, to discover that he had no meter. He then said that the metered rate to our hotel would be about 100 Zloty ($48), but by the time we got to the hotel, he had extorted a combined total of 150 Zloty ($73) from G-Girl and me. To add insult to injury, we found out that the hotel would have picked us up for 70 Zloty ($34).

The dollar is the weakest currency i the world, Wadiists are trying to start Jihads in every western nation, China is buying US assets as if it were a fire sale in FILENE'S BASEMENT, gasoline prices are skyrocketing, banks are failing at an alarming rate all over the world, and Bush is still President, which makes us Americans concurrently the most hated people and the laughing stock of the world, There is only one thing I can do in this situation...

ROAD TRIP!

Some months ago, I decided that I wanted to go to Europe again, and asked my two bet friends, G-Girl and Minor_Goddess if they wanted to go, G-Girl, havig no better sense than me, said "okay" but Minor_Goddess turned me down again, claiming that she haso one to care for the dog, I think it is more likely her penchant for taking off from work every time she gets a hangnail, leaving her with just enough hours off for her annual trip to DragonCon, Truth be told, she would have been the better one to have on this particular trip, because she speaks Russian, Ukrainian, Polish and French (though mine is better),

When you want to go to Europe for a reasonable price, but money is tight and the backpacker-hostel thing has lost its allure, the next best thing you can do is take a European cruise. At first glance. they seem pricey, but remember that (luxury) hotel accommodations, transportation, at least three meals a day, and entertainment are included in the price, Add to this the fact that all costs are paid up-front in US dollars (no exchange rate problems) and that incidentals like beer, liquor and soda are charged at rates comparable to US bars and restaurants, a cruise is a great deal. Of course, I couldn't just take my savings on the trip and put them in the bank. I had to burn them up real good. and add more for good measure,

The only cost not included in a European cruise is airfare. This can add significantly to the cost of the trip. My solution - wait for the airline fare sale, and snatch up a deal before they know it was even in the computers, This often requires buying tickets several months in advance, and being flexible in terms of both dates and airports.

The cruise we decided on departed from Venice, one of the most expensive cities to visit and airports to fly into. There were no sale fares to that destination, and even if there were, they would not be cheap. While looking for alternatives, I discovered something curious - Continental was charging $1500 for coach to Barcelona (the debarkation port for the cruise) but only $2000 for First-Class! $500 more seems like a lot of money, but remember, you get REAL seats, REAL food on REAL china, and nobody banging their seat into your knees, or nearly breaking your computer as it sits on your tray-table (yes, this happened...) I quickly called G-Girl, ready to argue my case in the court of thrift, but Miss Cheapness agreed readily, commenting that she really wanted to go in First-Class anyway.

With airfare taken care of, I booked the cruise. We decided on Holland America Line's ZUIDERDAM (ZY-DER-DAM), because it is a relatively new ship, with many amenities and was sailing the itinerary closest to where we wanted to go. There were two problems however:

Problem (1) :Holland America Line is often described by G-Girl as “the stuffy ships”, because many of their clientèle are older people with money and nice clothes. Had we been going on Princess or Carnival, that would not be so important, but on a HAL vessel, we would have to bring formal clothing – G-Girl would need several evening gowns (yes, she owns formal attire) and I needed to bring my tuxedo (yes, for all those who know me and have never seen me in anything but jeans an a t-shirt, I own my own tux -it's cheaper than renting one, fits better and has never been worn by anyone else before..)

Problem (2): The Zuiderdam was originally planned for 7-day Caribbean cruising, and at the time, a laundromat was thought to be unnecessary. Therefore, we would have to bring enough clothing to last the entire 12 days of the cruise, plus the extra days in Poland and the Czech Republic.

Both of these problems could only be solved by one action: take our largest suitcases (we each bought a 24 inch “roll-aboard” when we went to Asia), and fill them with clothing and take our duffel bags for underwear and socks. I also needed a large carry-on to put my various gadgets in, to insure they actually arrived at my destination.

With all of these problems solved, I began to book hotels and finalize arrangements, secure in the knowledge that I had beaten the system, totally unaware of the stom clouds brewing and conspiring to destroy my vacation and savings.

Throughout my lifetime, I have many diverse influences that have shaped my interests in both Fandom and Real Life. There are, though, very few who could truly be considered worthy of the title, "hero". One of these such people was Sir Arthur C. Clarke, CBE (Commander, British Empire).

Sir Clarke died today (or yesterday, since it was in Sri Lanka, across the international dateline). He was 90.

I first discovered Clarke at the age of about 13, when I happened on a copy of 2001: A SPACE ODDESSEY. I had read my very first Science Fiction novel about a year before (THE WHITE MOUNTAINS, by John Christopher), and was voraciously working my way through the SF section of the main branch of the Brooklyn Public Library. When my Junior High School English teacher assigned a book report, and my fellow students were trying to get away with using PEANUTS and MAD collections, I asked if I could read and write about this book. My teacher, Mr. Coccia, said, "I think it's too hard for you." To which I replied, "but I'm already half way through it..." He asked me how long I had been reading it, and I said, "two days."
We then began a short discussion of what I had read so far, and he seemed highly impressed with my comprehension of what he saw as a difficult book, and said many adults didn't understand it as well as I did.

In High School, although I picked up another "hero" who would shape my professional and academic life (George Orwell), I continued to work my way through the Clarke catalog, reading "RENDEVOUS WITH RAMA", "CHILDHOOD'S END", and several other titles. Somewhere in between, I had seen "2001..." at a Manhattan revival house, and although I loved the film (and would, by extension, come to love the work of Kubrick), I was slightly disappointed by some of the imagery, which I felt was not truly faithful the spirit of the book. It was also during High School that Clarke had the most impact on me, not with SF, but with a nonfiction book, PRELUDE TO THE FUTURE, which we read in Future Studies. In it, Clarke put forth many theories and ideas that I had never considered before, and opened my mind to many possibilities.

In college and grad school, I traveled to several WorldCons, and met many noted authors, including Bova, Niven, Ellison, and Card, but I never had the opportunity to meet Clarke, as he rarely left Sri Lanka, and the one WorldCon he was scheduled to attend (in order to accept a HUGO award for "2010", he was too ill to make the trip to Brighton, England (although I and my Best Friend had made the trip almost exclusively to meet him (though I doubt she ever knew that was my real reason...)).

On learning of his passing today, I yelled with grief, and considered several of my favorite quotes from Clarke, which have helped shape my life and thinking:

"The only way of finding the limits of the possible is by going beyond them into the impossible."

"Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic"

"It may be that our role on this planet is not to worship God--but to create him"

"The greatest tragedy in mankind's entire history may be the hijacking of morality by religion."

"...astrologers once believed that the stars controlled the destinies of men, but the time may come when men control the destinies of the stars..."

- 30 -