We are told in middle school that we study history to learn from it and not make the same mistakes. We like to think we do that, but do we? I wonder sometimes, like now. One hundred years ago there were two disasters that could have been avoided but weren’t. Both disasters had lasting repercussions. Both had human tragedy beyond the storyline and statistics. One was the sinking of the Titanic (but I hold off on that one till next Month)
The other one I write about here is: The Triangle Shirtwaist Fire of March 25, 1911.
The Triangle Shirtwaist Company fire of March 1911 took place in New York City. Located near Lincoln Park (lower east side), the ten storied Triangle Shirtwaist Company occupied the 8-10th floors of the Asch Building that was made of wood and brick. It had only one older outside fire escape near the tenth floor (many buildings in NYC had none). That fire escape was broken and when people climbed on it, it gave way sending 30 people 100 feet to their deaths. The building did have a functioning elevator inside and that elevator is credited with saving many lives. The fire broke out on the 8th floor near the 5pm closing time, and most of the employees on that floor were able to get out. The fire spread quickly largely because the place was piled high with highly flammable material (cotton, silk etc). The alarm was given by phone to the 10th floor where the bosses and secretaries, were and most all of them escaped serious harm. Some got down the inside stairs before they became impassable (about 3-4 minutes) and the rest made it up to the roof (including the 2 owners of the company) where they were eventually rescued.
The real problem was on the crammed, cramped 9th floor. This floor had close to ninety women working in spaces and conditions that would not be tolerated today and shouldn’t have been then. One sewing machine operator station was only 6-9 inches from the next. Over 90 women and (11) male workers were on the 9th floor BUT the operator did not alert the 9th floor about the fire because the 9th floor had no phone!! BY the time the employees saw smoke coming in from under the two doors located at each end of a long rectangular room it was already too late! Why was it too late? When they ran to the two doors to get out they were horrified to discover both doors had been locked from the outside and they could not get out. Why were the doors locked? The owners said later (in a trial) it was to prevent thefts but it was more commonly believed they were locked so that these women would not have any distractions from people walking in and out. That way they could work with no break in concentration! These workers had only minutes to live.
The fire spread very quickly, choices were few. The only way to avoid death by smoke inhalation or being burned alive (as several were) was by jumping. The vast majority of deaths occurred from women (and some men) jumping 9 stories to their deaths. The first to go was a man, and then another man seen kissing a girl before jumping. Some jumped holding hands, some in embrace; some were on fire when they went out the windows. Some continued to burn when they hit the ground. To their credit, the fire department did arrived amazingly soon for that era, (9 minutes) but their ladders only went as high as the 6th floor. In total, 146 people died: 14 were men; another 6 middle aged women supervisors and the rest were young women (mostly Italian and Jewish immigrants) working for meager wages, in awful conditions. The youngest were 2 14 year old girls.
The 2 owners were indicted (involuntary manslaughter) but they were soon exonerated of all charges. They hadn’t broken any laws, and no one could prove why they locked the doors. Maybe the laws of decency and common sense were broken but those laws weren’t listed on the statutes (just as they aren’t today).
Just 1 ½ years before this fire, many of these same women went on strike to get better wages, better working hours, and what they thought would be better, safer, working conditions. It’s clear whatever concessions they did get in terms of safe working conditions, it wasn’t enough. The owners did come up with a bit more money and they cut the twelve hour shifts to 9-10 hours but still there was no air conditioning, fire escapes, proper ventilation, escape routes and photos show how crammed in the women were. The scenario was this: hundreds of people working 9 stories up jammed in with piles of flammable fabric and the doors to the room locked with no outside escape possible. One carelessly tossed cigarette near closing time and it was death for 146 people. This is still the 4th largest loss of life from an industrial tragedy in U.S. History.
The upshot is, shortly thereafter in NYC, working fire escapes became mandatory on all buildings two stories or higher and workers in all manner of industry in NYC soon had relatively safe working conditions. The International Ladies Garment Workers Union was started and they demanded better, safer conditions. By 1915 many reforms were put in place although ironically one of the owners of the Triangle Company, a few years later, was cited and fined 20.00 for still locking his his doors. Oh yes, the owners were sued for civil compensation and held liable at the rate of 75.00 per loss of life. However, the owners were also given an insurance payout that came to 400.00 per death. You do the math.
Here is my point about the Triangle fire of 1911: During those years many workers united for better work conditions and pay. Garment workers, iron workers cobblers, machinists, steel workers unions and the list is long, long, long. They had to unite because they were clearly being exploited, and worked in extremely poor and dangerous conditions. In 1910 the estimate is no less that 50 unions across the country went on strike at one point in time or another. That is how the laborers of this country were able to rise to a level where they could be middleclass, send their kids to school, own a home and be productive members of society. Have American’s today forgotten how exploited, abused, and degraded workers in this country were at the turn of the 20th century? Have Americans forgotten how important Unions were then? So tell me, why would Americans today look the other way when unions are being attacked? Why would American’s today think its okay for the Governor (Walker) of Wisconsin to unilaterally decide to limit or try to end unions altogether in his state?
Look, I know there are abuses of pension funds. I’m not naive to the many sweetheart deals, bad deals, and potential bankrupting deals. In my own backyard of San Diego, you could write a dissertation on the mangled, mismanaged (some say criminal) city employee pension fund.
Should tax payers just accept that unions can maneuver cities and companies into retirement deals that are ludicrous and unsustainable? Of course not! Those bad union-company deals can spell financial ruination, but the alternative knee jerk reaction to end unions altogether is also bad thinking. The one thing workers (white collar or blue) need to remember is that often times the union is all that stands between you and being exploited and kept down. Remember, the goal of any company, be it private or public, is to make money not worry about worker conditions. If the workers at the Triangle Shirtwaist Company had a union forceful enough to make sure all doors were kept unlocked, that outside fire escapes were provided for on the buildings their workers occupied, and that workers were not packed in like sardines, then it’s reasonable to conclude that many if not all of the dead would have lived.
I know it’s been a hundred years; but aren’t we supposed to learn from and remember the lessons history teaches us. A hundred forty six mostly under age 25 people were burned to death, choked to death on toxic smoke or hurled themselves to death from 9 stories because they didn’t have any other choices, BUT we do have a choice: a choice to NOT forget the lessons that tragedy taught us.
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Sunday, March 20, 2011
A Chance Encounter
In one of my talks with Mike, he told me this story of a chance encounter he had with a SDSU student, in a rain storm, years ago. It talks about how age differences needn't be a hinderance to communication. I asked him to share it with you. He makes a great point about the art of writing (all kinds) at the end. Enjoy!
It's Only a Safety Pin
BY Meyer Moldeven
How might adolescents and teenagers of this 21st century relate to and communicate with grandparents and elders generally? Based on a mid-1980s encounter this story tells of an exchange during my chance meeting with a young adult. He was about eighteen; I was in my 70s, also still a kid.
Somewhat allegorical, this vignette portrays intergenerational outreach when a young man or woman and a 75+er are willing to listen to each other. Many of us have had comparable experiences; they deserve being entered into our lore. If nothing else, please read the 'excerpt' at the end.
~~~
The rain sheets swirled in from the south, bent, and lurched aimless as drunken ghosts across the campus. Wind lashed the high crowns of the eucalyptus, and dipped to whine along the corridors and passageways that cut through the patchwork of academic structures.
Back and legs lashed by fierce gusts, disoriented to the direction of my destination, I took refuge under the dome of a kiosk. Backing around opposite the driving rain, I doffed my cap to let the water drip; waiting was no problem. I scanned the dozens of leaflets clinging to the kiosk’s curved wall, overlapping each other like fish scales: notices of student events long past and yet to be, and places and things from urgently needed to available for the taking.
‘Hey, ol’ man.’
‘Yo.’I glanced back. He was in the borderland between the rain and the shelter, leaning against a patch of soggy leaflets. About eighteen in years, six in height, and as skinny as a drenched cat. Tangled blond hair, defeated by the rain, plastered his scalp.
His black T-shirt was wet, as were his frayed and torn jeans and once-white running shoes. At his feet lay a deflated haversack caked with whatever it had been dragged through, probably since elementary school.
Whatcha doin’ out on a day like this?’
His flat voice matched the bored, couldn’t care less put-on that went with his years. Squatting, he drew a soil-brown cloth from the haversack and toweled his head and neck.
‘Library,’ I said. ‘Where’s it at?’
He motioned with the cloth. 'Behind that one with the big windows. I’m headin’ that way, too.’ He looked up at the sky. ‘Gonna let up in a coupla minutes. What’re you gonna do in the library?’
‘Check the latest Writer’s Market and LMP.’ I squinted closer at him and repeated, ‘LMP. Literary Market Place.’
‘What’ll they do for you?’
‘Point me in the right direction.’
‘What for?’
‘Peddle an article I wrote.’
‘Oh. Writer?’
‘Off’n on. Job. Retired now, but keep my hand in.’
‘Hey, man, I like writin’.’ He looked at me with interest. What’s it take?’
‘Writin’? Takes writin’, and rewritin’.’
‘C'mon, man. You’re tryin’ to sell one. Right?’
‘Yep.’
’So you’ve been there. Writin’ for the real world; doin’ somthin’ you want to. What’s it all about; like what are ya tryin’ t’sell?’
‘Industrial stuff,’ I said, dismissing it all with a shrug and a wave-off. ‘How to organize industrial tools to do a job, and then how to bring ‘em all together with materials, parts, and nuts and bolts to come up with the finished product.’
‘That’s technical writin’, huh?’
‘Yep. Well, sort of.’
‘Is technical writin’ hard to learn?’
‘People like you and me been doin’ it since cave-people first scratched pictures of rock-throwers on their walls. Finest kind training aid for their kids.’
I pointed to the printed and hand-scribed notes and graffiti in the patches of still exposed concrete.
‘Content may have changed, but the idea is still to get a message across. What about you? Ever tried that kind of writing?’
‘Technical stuff?’ His shoulders rose and fell. ‘Not much. Student, y’know. I do use trade manuals to tune the motor on my bike, and the manual has lists and drawings of tools and step-by-step instructions on how to do the job. Use ‘em all the time, but never thought about where they came from. You put that stuff together?’
‘Made my livin’ at it for a while before I retired. But, like I said, I’m a firehouse horse who keeps chasin’ fires even after being put out to pasture. In my blood, I guess.’
He snickered.
‘Tools in a repair manual,’ he said, ‘and all the different parts and instructions. How d’ya do it? Like, how’d you describe, for example, a tool?’
He scanned the sky as he spoke. The heavy overcast was lighter, and the wandering rain-ghosts had retreated to make way for drizzle. Rivulets snaked across the concrete quad from one puddle to the next, eventually over-brimming into a furrow that widened and deepened into a trench entering a conduit to a ditch or storm sewer somewhere off the campus.
‘Name a few tools,’ I said.
He grinned. ‘Pliers. Wrench. Screwdriver. OK?’
‘OK,’ I answered. ‘More.’
His eyes contemplated the drizzle, came back to stare at the wet walls of the kiosk, settled on his haversack, and stayed. I followed his glance. A 4-inch long, candy-striped, enamel-coated safety pin fastened down the flap of its side pocket.
‘Safety pin. Tool, right?’ he chuckled.’
‘Could be. How would you get ready to describe it?’
He stared at me, his face gone blank. ’How ‘to get ready’ to describe a safety pin? What’s this ‘get ready’ bit? It’s just a safety pin. You’re kiddin’.’
‘The heck I am,’ I said.’ You just called it a ‘tool’. If you’re going to describe it, know enough about it to find the words for the job. Words are also tools, whether they describe other tools, or tornadoes, toys, teeth, trees, or tractors.
‘Start with thinking about the readers; will they be in an outfit that makes specialized equipment to fabricate safety pins; will it be a safety pin huckster contacting customers by phone, personal contact or email, or how about some kid’s mom up-country in an underdeveloped country who never even heard about Velcro flaps on diapers, if she ever heard of diapers at all. Just assume the woman lives in a village where no one ever heard of safety pins until a K-Mart opened up alongside the town paddy. What I’m gettin’ at is: who’s the information for? How much do they really need to know in order to do what they want with the thing?’
The idea grabbed him and I let him lead. Backs against the kiosk wall, staring out at the drizzle but not seeing it, we analyzed a safety pin and how to lay the groundwork to describe it. He unfastened the pin from his haversack, and using it as the exhibit, we did a parts breakdown, then recalled what we could about the range of popular sizes; we estimated raw materials' requirements per hundred thousand units; debated how to cut the pin retainer clip from flat stock and form it around the wire firmly so that a child couldn’t separate one from the other; touched on features for machine tools to fabricate safety pins; then jumped to the economics of designing robotic machine tools and assembly lines to mass produce and corner the safety pin market.
We delved into designing a pin with enough stiffness in the wire so that the pointed end would not bend out of the clip head and keep the tip from accidentally disengaging; we laughed over deburring the parts so that Mom’s fingers and the baby’s fanny wouldn’t’ get scratched, and quickly agreed on the need to coat or pack the pins with a rust inhibitor to protect them from the corrosive effects of dank cloths in warm places. We explored packaging, marketing and replacement factors.
By now his hair was almost dry and he finger-combed it spiky.
‘Hey, ol’ man,’ he said, ‘this is a good rap, but it’s only a safety pin.’
‘Don’t knock it,’ I replied. ‘Safety pins, in one form or another, have been industrial and household tools for centuries and will be for many more. Anyhow, we’re using pins as an example, the same principles apply whether it’s a safety pin, a computer, TV, or space ship. Getting back to your part of the job, when you’ve got it all together, and understand it and the customer’s needs, then you’re close to starting the writin’ job.
‘Based on who wants to know, you might need to spell out what the parts are made from, their dimensions, the diameter of the spring loop, and the wire’s bending limits. You might need to describe the integrated clip head and the pin shaft and how they were attached.’
He stared at me, and his eyes widened in wonder at the boundless vistas I had opened. He was far beyond safety pins.
If you’re interested in technical writing,’ I continued,keep in mind that collecting data and understanding it precedes the art of writing.’I paused. ‘And when you do write, whatever you’re writing about - a safety pin or a space ship - do it with such care and precision that what you come up with can form the image you want in the mind of someone who has been both blind since birth and incapable of feeling anything with his or her hands. That’s the test.’
The look of discovery was replaced by skepticism. ‘Aw, c’mon, man, that can’t be the real world for technical writers,’ he said. ‘People who use tools learn by doing, or they follow a book. They see what they’re working’ on and feel things with their hands’
‘Let’s think about that,’ I said. ‘Millions of people who see poorly, or not at all, or who have other physical or sensory problems, use precision tools all the time. Many of them use tech data recorded on audio systems or in some variation of a touch data system. The entire field of communications to bypass sensory and physical limitations is just beginning to open up; it’s now part of your world. Data in dozens of arrangements, for design, training aids, or operating instructions are needed by folks who, very often, haven’t used the equipment before or who, for some other reason, need instruments and tech data right there, alongside, all the time. In this world of thousands of languages and dialects, and physical and mental limitations beyond counting, even basic tools, like a safety pin, need to be understood all along the line from designer to user. Understanding means communications; think about it.’
We shared silence for a while.
‘Hey, man, I like that,’ he said softly.
We glanced at the sky. The clouds were breaking up. As we abandoned our shelter under the dome, he shook his head. ‘All this for a safety pin,’ he said. The look of wonder was back, and became a grin.
‘A diaper pin?’
Raising my arm, I pumped my fist at the sky.’ Today, the diaper pin, tomorrow the world!’
We laughed. At the entrance to the library we shook hands and went our ways. I never saw him again, but I sometimes wonder what he chose for his life’s work.
~~~~
The following excerpt is from the Introduction to a list of free guides cited in a multi-address e-mail that I received July 13, 2006, Subject: ‘Free Guidelines from WGBH - Create Accessible Digital Media.’ It speaks for itself. Quote ‘Properly designed e-books, software, Web sites and learning management systems can and must be accessible to all users with disabilities. Technology is prevalent everywhere, and learners of all ages and in all fields require equal access to content to keep pace with their colleagues and classmates. Whether they are high school students, IT professionals or research chemists, inaccessible materials prevent people with disabilities from using the same materials at the same time as their peers, and can limit their educational and career opportunities. These guidelines, providing step-by-step solutions for making a variety of electronic media accessible to users with sensory disabilities, are now available free of charge at:
It's Only a Safety Pin
BY Meyer Moldeven
How might adolescents and teenagers of this 21st century relate to and communicate with grandparents and elders generally? Based on a mid-1980s encounter this story tells of an exchange during my chance meeting with a young adult. He was about eighteen; I was in my 70s, also still a kid.
Somewhat allegorical, this vignette portrays intergenerational outreach when a young man or woman and a 75+er are willing to listen to each other. Many of us have had comparable experiences; they deserve being entered into our lore. If nothing else, please read the 'excerpt' at the end.
~~~
The rain sheets swirled in from the south, bent, and lurched aimless as drunken ghosts across the campus. Wind lashed the high crowns of the eucalyptus, and dipped to whine along the corridors and passageways that cut through the patchwork of academic structures.
Back and legs lashed by fierce gusts, disoriented to the direction of my destination, I took refuge under the dome of a kiosk. Backing around opposite the driving rain, I doffed my cap to let the water drip; waiting was no problem. I scanned the dozens of leaflets clinging to the kiosk’s curved wall, overlapping each other like fish scales: notices of student events long past and yet to be, and places and things from urgently needed to available for the taking.
‘Hey, ol’ man.’
‘Yo.’I glanced back. He was in the borderland between the rain and the shelter, leaning against a patch of soggy leaflets. About eighteen in years, six in height, and as skinny as a drenched cat. Tangled blond hair, defeated by the rain, plastered his scalp.
His black T-shirt was wet, as were his frayed and torn jeans and once-white running shoes. At his feet lay a deflated haversack caked with whatever it had been dragged through, probably since elementary school.
Whatcha doin’ out on a day like this?’
His flat voice matched the bored, couldn’t care less put-on that went with his years. Squatting, he drew a soil-brown cloth from the haversack and toweled his head and neck.
‘Library,’ I said. ‘Where’s it at?’
He motioned with the cloth. 'Behind that one with the big windows. I’m headin’ that way, too.’ He looked up at the sky. ‘Gonna let up in a coupla minutes. What’re you gonna do in the library?’
‘Check the latest Writer’s Market and LMP.’ I squinted closer at him and repeated, ‘LMP. Literary Market Place.’
‘What’ll they do for you?’
‘Point me in the right direction.’
‘What for?’
‘Peddle an article I wrote.’
‘Oh. Writer?’
‘Off’n on. Job. Retired now, but keep my hand in.’
‘Hey, man, I like writin’.’ He looked at me with interest. What’s it take?’
‘Writin’? Takes writin’, and rewritin’.’
‘C'mon, man. You’re tryin’ to sell one. Right?’
‘Yep.’
’So you’ve been there. Writin’ for the real world; doin’ somthin’ you want to. What’s it all about; like what are ya tryin’ t’sell?’
‘Industrial stuff,’ I said, dismissing it all with a shrug and a wave-off. ‘How to organize industrial tools to do a job, and then how to bring ‘em all together with materials, parts, and nuts and bolts to come up with the finished product.’
‘That’s technical writin’, huh?’
‘Yep. Well, sort of.’
‘Is technical writin’ hard to learn?’
‘People like you and me been doin’ it since cave-people first scratched pictures of rock-throwers on their walls. Finest kind training aid for their kids.’
I pointed to the printed and hand-scribed notes and graffiti in the patches of still exposed concrete.
‘Content may have changed, but the idea is still to get a message across. What about you? Ever tried that kind of writing?’
‘Technical stuff?’ His shoulders rose and fell. ‘Not much. Student, y’know. I do use trade manuals to tune the motor on my bike, and the manual has lists and drawings of tools and step-by-step instructions on how to do the job. Use ‘em all the time, but never thought about where they came from. You put that stuff together?’
‘Made my livin’ at it for a while before I retired. But, like I said, I’m a firehouse horse who keeps chasin’ fires even after being put out to pasture. In my blood, I guess.’
He snickered.
‘Tools in a repair manual,’ he said, ‘and all the different parts and instructions. How d’ya do it? Like, how’d you describe, for example, a tool?’
He scanned the sky as he spoke. The heavy overcast was lighter, and the wandering rain-ghosts had retreated to make way for drizzle. Rivulets snaked across the concrete quad from one puddle to the next, eventually over-brimming into a furrow that widened and deepened into a trench entering a conduit to a ditch or storm sewer somewhere off the campus.
‘Name a few tools,’ I said.
He grinned. ‘Pliers. Wrench. Screwdriver. OK?’
‘OK,’ I answered. ‘More.’
His eyes contemplated the drizzle, came back to stare at the wet walls of the kiosk, settled on his haversack, and stayed. I followed his glance. A 4-inch long, candy-striped, enamel-coated safety pin fastened down the flap of its side pocket.
‘Safety pin. Tool, right?’ he chuckled.’
‘Could be. How would you get ready to describe it?’
He stared at me, his face gone blank. ’How ‘to get ready’ to describe a safety pin? What’s this ‘get ready’ bit? It’s just a safety pin. You’re kiddin’.’
‘The heck I am,’ I said.’ You just called it a ‘tool’. If you’re going to describe it, know enough about it to find the words for the job. Words are also tools, whether they describe other tools, or tornadoes, toys, teeth, trees, or tractors.
‘Start with thinking about the readers; will they be in an outfit that makes specialized equipment to fabricate safety pins; will it be a safety pin huckster contacting customers by phone, personal contact or email, or how about some kid’s mom up-country in an underdeveloped country who never even heard about Velcro flaps on diapers, if she ever heard of diapers at all. Just assume the woman lives in a village where no one ever heard of safety pins until a K-Mart opened up alongside the town paddy. What I’m gettin’ at is: who’s the information for? How much do they really need to know in order to do what they want with the thing?’
The idea grabbed him and I let him lead. Backs against the kiosk wall, staring out at the drizzle but not seeing it, we analyzed a safety pin and how to lay the groundwork to describe it. He unfastened the pin from his haversack, and using it as the exhibit, we did a parts breakdown, then recalled what we could about the range of popular sizes; we estimated raw materials' requirements per hundred thousand units; debated how to cut the pin retainer clip from flat stock and form it around the wire firmly so that a child couldn’t separate one from the other; touched on features for machine tools to fabricate safety pins; then jumped to the economics of designing robotic machine tools and assembly lines to mass produce and corner the safety pin market.
We delved into designing a pin with enough stiffness in the wire so that the pointed end would not bend out of the clip head and keep the tip from accidentally disengaging; we laughed over deburring the parts so that Mom’s fingers and the baby’s fanny wouldn’t’ get scratched, and quickly agreed on the need to coat or pack the pins with a rust inhibitor to protect them from the corrosive effects of dank cloths in warm places. We explored packaging, marketing and replacement factors.
By now his hair was almost dry and he finger-combed it spiky.
‘Hey, ol’ man,’ he said, ‘this is a good rap, but it’s only a safety pin.’
‘Don’t knock it,’ I replied. ‘Safety pins, in one form or another, have been industrial and household tools for centuries and will be for many more. Anyhow, we’re using pins as an example, the same principles apply whether it’s a safety pin, a computer, TV, or space ship. Getting back to your part of the job, when you’ve got it all together, and understand it and the customer’s needs, then you’re close to starting the writin’ job.
‘Based on who wants to know, you might need to spell out what the parts are made from, their dimensions, the diameter of the spring loop, and the wire’s bending limits. You might need to describe the integrated clip head and the pin shaft and how they were attached.’
He stared at me, and his eyes widened in wonder at the boundless vistas I had opened. He was far beyond safety pins.
If you’re interested in technical writing,’ I continued,keep in mind that collecting data and understanding it precedes the art of writing.’I paused. ‘And when you do write, whatever you’re writing about - a safety pin or a space ship - do it with such care and precision that what you come up with can form the image you want in the mind of someone who has been both blind since birth and incapable of feeling anything with his or her hands. That’s the test.’
The look of discovery was replaced by skepticism. ‘Aw, c’mon, man, that can’t be the real world for technical writers,’ he said. ‘People who use tools learn by doing, or they follow a book. They see what they’re working’ on and feel things with their hands’
‘Let’s think about that,’ I said. ‘Millions of people who see poorly, or not at all, or who have other physical or sensory problems, use precision tools all the time. Many of them use tech data recorded on audio systems or in some variation of a touch data system. The entire field of communications to bypass sensory and physical limitations is just beginning to open up; it’s now part of your world. Data in dozens of arrangements, for design, training aids, or operating instructions are needed by folks who, very often, haven’t used the equipment before or who, for some other reason, need instruments and tech data right there, alongside, all the time. In this world of thousands of languages and dialects, and physical and mental limitations beyond counting, even basic tools, like a safety pin, need to be understood all along the line from designer to user. Understanding means communications; think about it.’
We shared silence for a while.
‘Hey, man, I like that,’ he said softly.
We glanced at the sky. The clouds were breaking up. As we abandoned our shelter under the dome, he shook his head. ‘All this for a safety pin,’ he said. The look of wonder was back, and became a grin.
‘A diaper pin?’
Raising my arm, I pumped my fist at the sky.’ Today, the diaper pin, tomorrow the world!’
We laughed. At the entrance to the library we shook hands and went our ways. I never saw him again, but I sometimes wonder what he chose for his life’s work.
~~~~
The following excerpt is from the Introduction to a list of free guides cited in a multi-address e-mail that I received July 13, 2006, Subject: ‘Free Guidelines from WGBH - Create Accessible Digital Media.’ It speaks for itself. Quote ‘Properly designed e-books, software, Web sites and learning management systems can and must be accessible to all users with disabilities. Technology is prevalent everywhere, and learners of all ages and in all fields require equal access to content to keep pace with their colleagues and classmates. Whether they are high school students, IT professionals or research chemists, inaccessible materials prevent people with disabilities from using the same materials at the same time as their peers, and can limit their educational and career opportunities. These guidelines, providing step-by-step solutions for making a variety of electronic media accessible to users with sensory disabilities, are now available free of charge at:
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Tsunami's and Charley Sheen
Two natural disasters struck the same week. An earthquake and tsunami in No. Japan and Charley Sheen in the United States. Both disasters spun out of control with a destructive force hard to be believed. One left in it's wake ruined lives, compelling video, and a call for outside help. The other one destroyed villages in Japan and created a nuclear reactor meltdown, still ongoing.
I do not make light of the trouble in Japan, I use satire to point out the fact that the same day there were riots and uprisings in the middle east, financial meltdowns in some European countries, murders in Mexico, it was Charley Sheen on the front page of newspapers and the lead story in most news outlets. Talk show hosts had a field day with Charley's addled drug soaked brain and loose lips. Why for God's sake does anyone care about what Charley Sheen has to say about anything? The best thing that could happen to this overindulged brat is for everyone to completely ignore him. Then maybe and finally, he will realize that being a goof in front of a camera does not (in and of itself) give one the value of being "important". Of course, for him, it was the exact opposite of being ignored, he was catered to, egged on, and given on air time in every outlet that saw a potential ratings bump because we live in a voyeuristic society where everyone is a busy body. We have to know what everyone thinks including Charley Sheen.
What else is People Magazine for? How about The View, and all the other non reality, reality shows, what are they about? Knowing other people's business that's what. We've become a nation of eavesdroppers, peeping Toms, and gossip addicts. One of the highest rated tv shows ever recorded was the night Larry King interviewed family members in the dispute over who would get the "famous for being famous" Anna Nicole Smith's baby. She died from a drug overdose and the important news breaking question on many minds was "who will get her baby"? Millions of Americans wre glued to their TV to see this public (supposedly private) petty squabble. A week later no one gave a shit and today the average person watching that show can't even remember the name of the kid much less where he went.
Back to Japan. They have more problems than nuclear reactors, and big waves. Did you know they are flat broke. Their national debt is 998 trillion yen. 2 more trillion yen and they break the unheard of mark (never reached by anyone, anywhere) of being 1 QUADRILLON in debt. Today if you took every last yen gathered in taxes and applied every yen to the debt it would not cover the interest on the debt let alone the debt. The debt is greater, now, than their ability to cover it with every taxed yen. Their international loans come with a 12% interest rate, higher than Greece. They are having a financial meltdown that parallels the nuclear one. Add to it the cost of disaster clean up and/ also 6 reactors going off line and you have a country literally 3 steps from the abyss. (make that 2)
On the home front, with our financial crisis getting worse, with international news very scary in the middle east, and disaster in the far east our fearless leader (Pres. Obama) did get his brackets filled in for the NCAA tourney and there was a camera crew at the White House to record the historic event. Then he and Michelle will be leaving tomorrow for a weekend getaway in Rio.
Meantime, back to reality, a "no fly zone" is not in place in Libya and Ghadafi is this close to crushing the rebellion. The resultant bloodbath will be on a grand scale. He said (today) on official Libyan TV ( 2 cameras on loan from PBS) that he doesn't care if his forces "kill everyone of them". England, France, U.S. and the UN all said there should be a no fly zone but NO ONE did anything and now we'll all get to see the Moammar Ghadafi I remember from his old thug/terrorist days of the late 70's / early 80's.
March Maddness is upon us. It's a time for miracle shots, heartbreak moments, hyperbole and more game analysis than a doctor's report on a kidney transplant. At least 12 players will be called the best player in the land. At least one team will be annointed "Cinderella", and we will be told that at least 15 different coaches did the best coaching job of anyone "bar none" this year. This is the time where cheerleaders are told to be perky when the camera is on them, shout the name of the school (go Sycamores), coaches use pomade in their hair to get the Pat Riley look, and mascots will nod their heads like a kid on a cough syrup binge. Since they can't say anything, Roadrunners don't speak, and what would they have to say if they could speak, all they can do is nod their heads rapidly.
Every game announcer will be "so glad to be here", all the commercials will be for pizza, beer, chips, erectile dysfunction (see a connection?), cars, car insurance, tires, hair treatments, erectile dysfunction, basketball shoes, financial investments, gambling addiction hotlines, erectile dysfunction and Hooters. We'll see the hot Danica Patrick slither up next to her hot car mummering something about.....well I never listen to what she says, so I don't know what she talks about, I just notice she's hot and slithers up next to her hot car. Yes, for two weeks moms, sisters, wives, GF's, and significant others can just forget it. That glazed look in your man's eyes is not because of the clean house, the nice dinner not even the new thong underwear, it's Jimmer, Khwahi, Julian, and 845 other players hustling, grabbing, blocking and showboating (and that's just the pregame meal). It's March Maddness for sure!
I do not make light of the trouble in Japan, I use satire to point out the fact that the same day there were riots and uprisings in the middle east, financial meltdowns in some European countries, murders in Mexico, it was Charley Sheen on the front page of newspapers and the lead story in most news outlets. Talk show hosts had a field day with Charley's addled drug soaked brain and loose lips. Why for God's sake does anyone care about what Charley Sheen has to say about anything? The best thing that could happen to this overindulged brat is for everyone to completely ignore him. Then maybe and finally, he will realize that being a goof in front of a camera does not (in and of itself) give one the value of being "important". Of course, for him, it was the exact opposite of being ignored, he was catered to, egged on, and given on air time in every outlet that saw a potential ratings bump because we live in a voyeuristic society where everyone is a busy body. We have to know what everyone thinks including Charley Sheen.
What else is People Magazine for? How about The View, and all the other non reality, reality shows, what are they about? Knowing other people's business that's what. We've become a nation of eavesdroppers, peeping Toms, and gossip addicts. One of the highest rated tv shows ever recorded was the night Larry King interviewed family members in the dispute over who would get the "famous for being famous" Anna Nicole Smith's baby. She died from a drug overdose and the important news breaking question on many minds was "who will get her baby"? Millions of Americans wre glued to their TV to see this public (supposedly private) petty squabble. A week later no one gave a shit and today the average person watching that show can't even remember the name of the kid much less where he went.
Back to Japan. They have more problems than nuclear reactors, and big waves. Did you know they are flat broke. Their national debt is 998 trillion yen. 2 more trillion yen and they break the unheard of mark (never reached by anyone, anywhere) of being 1 QUADRILLON in debt. Today if you took every last yen gathered in taxes and applied every yen to the debt it would not cover the interest on the debt let alone the debt. The debt is greater, now, than their ability to cover it with every taxed yen. Their international loans come with a 12% interest rate, higher than Greece. They are having a financial meltdown that parallels the nuclear one. Add to it the cost of disaster clean up and/ also 6 reactors going off line and you have a country literally 3 steps from the abyss. (make that 2)
On the home front, with our financial crisis getting worse, with international news very scary in the middle east, and disaster in the far east our fearless leader (Pres. Obama) did get his brackets filled in for the NCAA tourney and there was a camera crew at the White House to record the historic event. Then he and Michelle will be leaving tomorrow for a weekend getaway in Rio.
Meantime, back to reality, a "no fly zone" is not in place in Libya and Ghadafi is this close to crushing the rebellion. The resultant bloodbath will be on a grand scale. He said (today) on official Libyan TV ( 2 cameras on loan from PBS) that he doesn't care if his forces "kill everyone of them". England, France, U.S. and the UN all said there should be a no fly zone but NO ONE did anything and now we'll all get to see the Moammar Ghadafi I remember from his old thug/terrorist days of the late 70's / early 80's.
March Maddness is upon us. It's a time for miracle shots, heartbreak moments, hyperbole and more game analysis than a doctor's report on a kidney transplant. At least 12 players will be called the best player in the land. At least one team will be annointed "Cinderella", and we will be told that at least 15 different coaches did the best coaching job of anyone "bar none" this year. This is the time where cheerleaders are told to be perky when the camera is on them, shout the name of the school (go Sycamores), coaches use pomade in their hair to get the Pat Riley look, and mascots will nod their heads like a kid on a cough syrup binge. Since they can't say anything, Roadrunners don't speak, and what would they have to say if they could speak, all they can do is nod their heads rapidly.
Every game announcer will be "so glad to be here", all the commercials will be for pizza, beer, chips, erectile dysfunction (see a connection?), cars, car insurance, tires, hair treatments, erectile dysfunction, basketball shoes, financial investments, gambling addiction hotlines, erectile dysfunction and Hooters. We'll see the hot Danica Patrick slither up next to her hot car mummering something about.....well I never listen to what she says, so I don't know what she talks about, I just notice she's hot and slithers up next to her hot car. Yes, for two weeks moms, sisters, wives, GF's, and significant others can just forget it. That glazed look in your man's eyes is not because of the clean house, the nice dinner not even the new thong underwear, it's Jimmer, Khwahi, Julian, and 845 other players hustling, grabbing, blocking and showboating (and that's just the pregame meal). It's March Maddness for sure!
Saturday, March 5, 2011
Yeah Sure
I guess by now you know about the state of Wisconsin. It's deeply in debt and the new Governor (Walker) believes that one way to restructure his State's finances (for the long term) is to eliminate the public employee union's right to collectively bargain. Essentially saying to public employees, you'll get what we say we can pay you, have severely reduced retirement benefits and you don't get a say in it. The Democratic members of the Wisconsin Legislature have fled the scene rather than be a part of this action. Ammunition was found at two of the entrances to the State capitol this past week. They were hollow point bullits and the message seems to be, this will not go down well with someone (or someone(s)).
Here is my take on things. First of all Wisconsin is not alone. Most if not all States have financially melted down. The financial crisis began mid 2007 and within one year just about every State was in big trouble. California, I think, meets the definition (or close to it) of being bankrupt. Two major wars for 8-11 years, the home mortgage crash, and decades of entitlement spending, expanding (bloating) state and federal bureaucracies and in some states i;llegal immigration all burst the bubble Now it's time to pay the piper.
Some want the wealthiest americans to pony up more tax money, others argue that is bad for the economy, long term. Few politicians want to put an end to the many entitlement programs because that would piss off voters. Add to it the huge illegal immigrant problem that has grown in the last 15-20 years that no one will speak of. The latest estimate is at least 3,000 illegals every day come into this country. You think they aren't getting educations, visiting clinics and hospitals, evenytually get on welfare rolls ect. That is an enormous bill to taxpayers, but it's politically incorrect to even mention the amount of money spent on illegal immigrants.
I believe firefighters, cops, teachers, DMV workers, State social workers are NOT what is bankrupting this country or any individual State. Public employees by definition have always made less money than people in the private sector. The teacher working for 45K, if employed in the private sector might be making 70K. The deal was always this: as a state employee, you'll make less money monthly but we will make it up to you with decent benefits, a rock solid pension and job security. No one complained for decades about this arrangment. I mean 6 years ago virtually no one was calling for public employee unions to be dissolved.
What's happening is attention is being deflected from the real culprits of the fiancial crisis (bankers, mortgage lenders, and politicians) and put on public employees. Yeah sure! the evil empire is all about those overpaid, over pensioned teachers, firefighters and cops. That's right they are what's causing all the problems.
It's clear to me that when the shit hits the fan, politicians blame public employees for the problem and then ask them to sacrifice in order to solve the problem. In many California tesaching districts, teachers, have had to give up wages the last couple of years, and now Sacramento would just love to go after their pensions. I did 37 years in the profession and my pension will be 87% of my final monthly total. So after educating students for 37 years, and contributing 8% of my own monthly check into the pension system (which we are never allowed to take out or borrow against) I and others are made to feel like greedy bastards. I accepted the deal that I would get less up front but a better end game. I don't feel one ounce of guilt. I have done my part, as have other teachers, cops, firefighters, DMV workers etc.
Union representation strength in this country has shrunk. Less than 10% of the workers in this country even have unions. The unions are not the problem and should be left alone. Be glad you have teachers, firefighters, and cops. They dedicated their professional lives to serve you. Don't take away the retirement that you (through your elected representatives) offered them when they came into the profession. Not here (California), nor Wisconsin, nor anywhere else. I do feel bad that so many people are hurting financially. Most of us may have "felt" something was amiss but could not fully foresee the size of the collapse. My family, for instance, has really been hit hard with job losses and underwater mortgages but they know it's not the public employees in Nebraska that are responsible for the financial hole the State is in.
What I fear is really going on is the old saying "never waste a crisis". Whenever there is a crisis, for example 9-11, government rushes in to take control of the lives of the people more and more. Homeland Security, spying on Americans, unlimited wiretaps and so forth. In this case what a grand opportunity to take union strength away from the workers.
The source of this "crisis" is the irresponsible, wasteful spending States engaged in for years. Cut spending, entitlements, and illegal immigrant spending as much as you can. Shrink bloated goverment agencies and offices. Get the wealthy bankers that profited off everyday people to pay for their greed. Leave public employees and their unions alone!!
Here is my take on things. First of all Wisconsin is not alone. Most if not all States have financially melted down. The financial crisis began mid 2007 and within one year just about every State was in big trouble. California, I think, meets the definition (or close to it) of being bankrupt. Two major wars for 8-11 years, the home mortgage crash, and decades of entitlement spending, expanding (bloating) state and federal bureaucracies and in some states i;llegal immigration all burst the bubble Now it's time to pay the piper.
Some want the wealthiest americans to pony up more tax money, others argue that is bad for the economy, long term. Few politicians want to put an end to the many entitlement programs because that would piss off voters. Add to it the huge illegal immigrant problem that has grown in the last 15-20 years that no one will speak of. The latest estimate is at least 3,000 illegals every day come into this country. You think they aren't getting educations, visiting clinics and hospitals, evenytually get on welfare rolls ect. That is an enormous bill to taxpayers, but it's politically incorrect to even mention the amount of money spent on illegal immigrants.
I believe firefighters, cops, teachers, DMV workers, State social workers are NOT what is bankrupting this country or any individual State. Public employees by definition have always made less money than people in the private sector. The teacher working for 45K, if employed in the private sector might be making 70K. The deal was always this: as a state employee, you'll make less money monthly but we will make it up to you with decent benefits, a rock solid pension and job security. No one complained for decades about this arrangment. I mean 6 years ago virtually no one was calling for public employee unions to be dissolved.
What's happening is attention is being deflected from the real culprits of the fiancial crisis (bankers, mortgage lenders, and politicians) and put on public employees. Yeah sure! the evil empire is all about those overpaid, over pensioned teachers, firefighters and cops. That's right they are what's causing all the problems.
It's clear to me that when the shit hits the fan, politicians blame public employees for the problem and then ask them to sacrifice in order to solve the problem. In many California tesaching districts, teachers, have had to give up wages the last couple of years, and now Sacramento would just love to go after their pensions. I did 37 years in the profession and my pension will be 87% of my final monthly total. So after educating students for 37 years, and contributing 8% of my own monthly check into the pension system (which we are never allowed to take out or borrow against) I and others are made to feel like greedy bastards. I accepted the deal that I would get less up front but a better end game. I don't feel one ounce of guilt. I have done my part, as have other teachers, cops, firefighters, DMV workers etc.
Union representation strength in this country has shrunk. Less than 10% of the workers in this country even have unions. The unions are not the problem and should be left alone. Be glad you have teachers, firefighters, and cops. They dedicated their professional lives to serve you. Don't take away the retirement that you (through your elected representatives) offered them when they came into the profession. Not here (California), nor Wisconsin, nor anywhere else. I do feel bad that so many people are hurting financially. Most of us may have "felt" something was amiss but could not fully foresee the size of the collapse. My family, for instance, has really been hit hard with job losses and underwater mortgages but they know it's not the public employees in Nebraska that are responsible for the financial hole the State is in.
What I fear is really going on is the old saying "never waste a crisis". Whenever there is a crisis, for example 9-11, government rushes in to take control of the lives of the people more and more. Homeland Security, spying on Americans, unlimited wiretaps and so forth. In this case what a grand opportunity to take union strength away from the workers.
The source of this "crisis" is the irresponsible, wasteful spending States engaged in for years. Cut spending, entitlements, and illegal immigrant spending as much as you can. Shrink bloated goverment agencies and offices. Get the wealthy bankers that profited off everyday people to pay for their greed. Leave public employees and their unions alone!!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)