I'm an old man...

Instead of going to the nearest Metro station one day this week after work I kept on walking to the next nearest Metro station. The weather was so darn pleasant I couldn't resist. Once DC summer hits I will loathe walking anywhere in work clothes so I thought I should take advantage of it. Plus there is a nice paved path that runs through a little greenway that links the King Street and Braddock Road stations. As I walked along I was in one of those "life is great" kind of moods. Dogs playing in the grass made me smile. The gentle clickty-clack of the Metro on the nearby tracks combined with the weather made me think for a moment that I was in suburban London not suburban DC. And the song birds were busy doing their thing. All in all it was a sublime moment carved out of everyday life.


After a bit, a twenty-something guy was headed my direction on the path and the sound from his iPod buds preceded him by quite a distance. I am guessing that most people have had those moments when someone elses' headphone volume seemed excessive. However, I was still surprised at how far his aural spillover carried down the length of the path. As soon as he passed and the sound of his iPod dissipated the songbirds could be heard again, another train went by, and a dog barked. Although I wasn't annoyed by hearing his music, in a way it was part of the patchwork of sound that made up the moment, but I did reflect on the fact that so many people today walk around plugged into something. Either they are on their phones exchanging inanities, unable to move from point A to point B without having a telephonic audience, or they are listening to music on headphones connected to an iPod. I have my cell phone and iPod, so I am no Luddite, but I can't help feeling like too many people are so plugged into an electronic world that they never hear the birds singing, let alone appreciate them.


Although only 38, I have long been an old curmudgeon wishing for some idyllic version of the past that never existed. A past where a young Leonard Bernstein was a super star, packages came in brown paper and string, a person had more than one steamer trunk for the Cunard crossing, and folks sat on porches drinking lemonade and eating cookies. Of course in my fantasy-world olden days people didn't smoke, gays were A-OK, and the Vietnam War never happened. But I digress (a lot)--back to my afternoon walk to the Metro. All I could think when this guy walked past with his iPod was how he was missing out on the birds, and the train clickty-clack, and the dog, and even the sound kids playing off in the distance. As much as I love my iPod, I don't want to be that disconnected from the world.


In a similar vein, as much as I love the Internet and would have a nearly impossible time functioning without it, I am sometimes nostalgic for a pre-Internet world. When my good friend Ron was in town recently we were talking about our mutual experience working in London right after college. We talked about how different our experiences abroad would have been if email and the Internet had been around. Back then, we would wait to see what mail might come from friends and family back home. Or on some rare occasions a transatlantic phone call might even be contemplated. As a 21-year old moving to another country to work, living with a bunch of young ex-pat wannabees from all over was an adventure in the new and unexpected. On good days it was exhilarating and fascinating on bad days feelings of isolation and homesickness took over. And all of it was experienced without the usual family and friends for support. I can't imagine how different that experience must be today for college students spending time abroad--at least in the developed world. With regular access to email, Skype, and websites for U.S. news outlets I wonder if today's student travellers even feel like they have left home.

I am not really sure what exactly I am trying to convey. Maybe I have reached that tipping point where I no longer envy the young. As I slide towards 40 maybe I am finally starting to become comfortable with my place on the great timeline of human experience. Or perhaps it is more likely that I am sliding to that far scarier place where one thinks that everything was better back when.

No Room for This View

The other night on Masterpiece Theater on PBS they showed a new film based on E.M. Forster's novel A Room With A View. I was more than a little surprised that someone would try and best the 1985 Merchant-Ivory dramatization of the same novel. Having seen it at least 25 times I think the Merchant-Ivory film is one of the most perfect films ever made. Fantastic casting, stunning videography, beautiful soundtrack, perfect pacing, and a wonderful love story to boot. Why would anyone mess with such a work of art?

But, being a sucker for a good English costume drama, I wasn't about to miss the new version no matter my reservations. I even tried to get over the fact that this new version was presented as a flashback. The movie starts in 1922 with a now single Lucy back in Florence having, one learns later, lost her husband George in the Great War. If that uneeded plot device had actually added something to the story it might have been forgiveable, but it added nothing. Maybe this was meant to be a treat for all those who couldn't stand not knowing what happened to Lucy and George after they got married. Then, once the filmmakers show that George was killed in the war, they feel the need to tie everything up with a nice happy ending. Apparently destroying the happy ending that Forster created in the novel, they felt they had to come up with their own absolutely atrocious happy ending. Honestly, the new ending is so poorly written it makes movies on the Lifetime Channel look like works of art.

Perhaps even more ridiculous is the fact that PBS fuzzed out the bare butts in the pond scene. I guess they were worried that legions of 11-year olds would sit through an hour of PBS drama just to see a little flesh. I remember seeing the Merchant-Ivory version about a decade ago when it was shown on PBS and they showed all of the nudity, front and back, without fuzzing anything out. I am surprised the new version had a scene where they showed a postcard of Michaelangelo's David without fuzzing out his junk.

I must admit I did enjoy seeing some of the characters played from different angles than the Merchant-Ivory version. But overall none of these new interpretations were compelling enough to save this clunker of a movie. But what actor would benefit being compared the the orginal cast that included Maggie Smith, Judi Dench, Daniel Day Lewis, Denholm Elliott, Helena Bonham-Carter, Julian Sands, Simon Callow...you get the picture.

Oddly enough the shoe will probably be on the other foot with the new film version of Evelyn Waugh's Brideshead Revisited. The PBS mini-series is the absolute zenith of made-for-television drama, it is hard to understand why somone would tinker with it. I love Emma Thompson who will be playing Lady Marchmain...maybe she can save a bad idea and make it worth the effort.

What's Your Type?

I have long been fascinated by typeface design. I think at least part of my fascination may be an outgrowth of my love of all things related to books and the written word. I love the way books look, and feel, and even smell. And I always consider it an extra treat when there is an explanatory paragraph at the end of a book describing the typeface in which the book was set.

Back in college my friend Colin was studying art and design and I was fascinated by the big volumes of typeface collections he checked out of the library. At the time he was heavily into Futura--the same font as all of those letters on Sesame Street. My fascination was with the typeface that was designed especially for the London Undground system. This Futura-like font is unique and recognizable and is used on everthing in the underground from the directional signage to the warnings on the fire extinguishers. When you are on the Tube there is never any doubt which signs are official and which aren't. The New York Subway system's committment to Helvetica doesn't seem quite as unifying as London's use of the Johnston font. Perhaps it is the ubiquitous nature of Helvetica--it is EVERYWHERE--but I never really thought I was a fan of Helvetica.

That is until I watched the documentary Helvetica. I am not saying I am a total fan of Helvetica (the font) but I am a huge fan of Helvetica (the film). Like most things Modern (with a capital M) Helvetica can be beautiful and perfect when used in the hands of a real talent, and can look really boring and downright bad when used by some second rate hack. The film does a wonderful job exploring the origins and use of the font as well as the Helvetica backlash in the era of postmodern and "grunge" typefaces. For anyone with even a passing interest in graphic design or typefaces Helvetica is a must see.

My Apocryphal Heimlich Maneuver

I recieved this email in response to my last post and the reference to Dr. Heimlich.

Hello Thomas,

I came across your blog item which included:

A few years ago I read a story about Dr. Heimlich of the Heimlich Maneuver fame. Apparently he was ill and reaching the end of his life and had never had the opportunity to actually use his maneuver on a choking victim. Despite all of the lives he had indirectly saved he was troubled that he never got to use the maneuver. So he started hanging out at restaurants and other places where people eat in public as much as possible just hoping that someone would begin to choke and need his assistance.

You may be referring to my September 17, 2005 article, Bankers Club, 2001: Dr. Heimlich To The Rescue? If so, allow me to clarify.


Briefly, reporters at major media outlets - The New Yorker, BBC News, and the Chicago Sun-Times - all published a story that Dr. Heimlich told them, that in 2001 he rescued a choking victim using the Heimlich maneuver at the Banker's Club, a well-known private club here in Cincinnati. Despite repeated attempts to verify the story with Dr. Heimlich, his press agent, and a Banker's Club employee who provided the information to one reporter, no one would provide any facts which might substantiate the story: the date, the alleged victim's name, any witnesses, etc.

So did those major media outlets get snookered? If so, nobody's talking. For example, shortly after The New Yorker published the item, I wrote and asked them to fact-check what they'd published. They refused. This from a magazine that endlessly trumpets its fact-checking department? I guess their corrections department isn't as diligent.

By the way, I'm not sure where you got the information about Dr. Heimlich being ill. I understand he turned 88 last month, is in good health, and still travels.

Sincerely,


The Dean of Cincinnati
The Cincinnati Beacon

My 15 Minutes of Fame

(photo credit: Darrow Montgomery)

Now that the media frenzy surrounding my appearance in the Washington City Paper has finally died down, I have some time to reflect on fame. Well, I guess there isn't much to reflect on. It was certainly a lot of fun to see my mug in print as well as to see my Womenfolk quest reaching a wider audience, but I wasn't exactly mobbed on the way to work. It was really nice to get email from a few strangers who had similar affection for the Womenfolk and a few people who were friends with or were related to the late Joyce James. And I think some of my friends finally paid attention (for the first time) to MyPorch. But a week in the life of the City Paper goes by pretty quickly and soon all the old copies laying around in coffee shops and on the Metro are replaced by the newest issue. A few years ago I read a story about Dr. Heimlich of the Heimlich Maneuver fame. Apparently he was ill and reaching the end of his life and had never had the opportunity to actually use his maneuver on a choking victim. Despite all of the lives he had indirectly saved he was troubled that he never got to use the maneuver himself to save anyone's life. So he started hanging out at restaurants and other places where people eat in public as much as possible just hoping that someone would begin to choke and need his assistance. For a moment I felt a bit like Dr. Heimlich, albeit without having saved any lives, directly or indirectly. But I did manage to resist the urge to place copies of the City Paper (all opened to page 42 of course) around various Starbucks and on benches, and other places where people are bored enough to start reading a random article.

Although I didn't become a media star I did get some fun reactions from people who know me. There were two things that came up almost universally in comments from my friends and family:

Adams Morgan is not a travel agency
Those who aren't that familiar with Washington DC, thought that "Adams Morgan travel agent" meant that I worked at an agency called Adams Morgan. Rather Adams Morgan refers to the neighborhood I live in. I actually work for a firm in Alexandria, Virginia--if you need help planning your next vacation drop me a line, I do fantastic work if I do say so myself.

Working for the Federal Government
Having witnessed my pain during my five year's of government service, almost everyone I know commented on the quote in the story about having done much of my Womenfolk research while I was a federal employee. This, unfortunately for the American taxpayer, is all too true. However, (and this is a big however) even taking time out to surf the web while I worked at GSA, I still gave the government their money's worth. Now, I know that many government employees do really amazing things, saving lives, sending people into space, predicting hurricanes (that other government employees ignore), but there are also a whole lot of federal employees who do nothing or next to nothing. Or if they do manage to get something done, you wish they hadn't because their level of incompetence is so stunningly bad.

From almost my first week in government service in 2002 as a Presidential Management Fellow, I couldn't believe the sloth and stupidity that was seemingly ubiquitous in the government. Again, I know there are federal employees who do great things for our country or simply work hard and do their jobs well, but I do not think it would be an exaggeration to say that you could cut the federal workforce by 30 to 50 percent without having a negative impact on government services. In fact, the government might work better if it were streamlined in such a way. Of course the key is that you have to get rid of the right 50%. The problem with federal personnel rules is that they are cumbersome enough that no supervisor ever seems to go through the long hassle of trying to fire anyone. And the only ones that ever seem to leave government service are the ones (like me) who are so frustrated by the environment that they have to get out. For most of my time in the government I outperformed and outworked most of my peers, always did what was asked of me (and more), always put in great effort to produce excellent work...and was still bored out of my mind. No doubt I could have stayed with the government for the rest of my working life (another 25 to 30 years) gotten lots and lots of paid time off and a very good salary, but the boredom and frustration I felt every day far outweighed the benefits of being a federal employee. So taxpayers need not worry that I bilked the government, but they should be worried that thousands of others do day in and day out.

Academy Awards Best Picture Review

One of the challenges on my 40 by 40 list is to see all of the Academy Award Best Picture nominees. Well, for the first time in the history I actually managed to see all five of them. What's more, with a 10:15 am screening of Juno this morning, I squeaked in just under the wire.

So, with hours to go, I can make my bold proclamation for which film SHOULD win the Best Picture category. I am not even going to try guess how the crazy members of the Academy actually voted. Ever since Helen Hunt won Best Actress and Jack Nicholson won Best Actor for the execrable film As Good as it Gets over the far, far, far, more worthy Robert Duvall in The Apostle, Dustin Hoffman in Wag the Dog, Julie Christie in Afterglow and perhaps most of all Judi Dench in Mrs. Brown, I can't really trust their collective judgement. After many years of a multi-year boycott, I think they have somewhat redeemed themselves in recent years. But I still feel the bitter sting of that dark night in 1997. I digress.

Here is how I think the films stack up with the most deserving in the number one spot and the least deserving in the five spot.

1. No Country For Old Men.
Violent and gruesome, not usually my thing, but an excellent film. Scary, chilling, well-paced, fascinating. All of the actors in this movie are fantastic. Tommy Lee Jones, Javier Bardem, and Josh Brolin all deserve high praise, but so do bit actors like Gene Jones in the role of the gas station owner and Kelly MacDonald as Carla Jean Moss.

2. Atonement.
A literary costume drama, right up my alley. A fabulous movie. I found it captivating and clever, with some twists I didn't expect. I also appreciated that it didn't go for cheap emotion. Loved every minute of this film.

3. (Tie) Michael Clayton and Juno.
Both are very good films but don't necessarily seem Oscar-worthy. Of course if you compare them to that piece of crap As Good as it Gets discussed above, they are absolutely marvels of cinematic greatness. George Clooney seems incapable of making bad movies. I really enjoyed this film. I thought it was gripping and I thought Tilda Swinton was amazing. If she is up for an award she deserves to win for not over playing this character. Juno was leagues better than your average comedy but that bar is set so low these days that I think this one gets an Oscar nod because it reminded everyone that not every comedy has to dripping in treacle or be some cartoonish spoof of some 1970's stereotype.

5. If I could, I would place There Will be Blood in 87th place.
Perhaps there is some artistic merit to this yawner of a movie, but I wasn't able to identify what it would be. Man, I hated this movie. It was glacial in pace about two hours too long, and totally uncompelling in any way. The characters didn't inspire any kind of emotional reaction whatsoever. Not love, hate, compassion, pity...nothing. And it is no fault of the actors, although I do think that Daniel Day-Lewis sounded like he was pretending to be a newscaster or something, I never never quite got used to his voice and accent. If you haven't seen this one skip it. Or rent it as a cure for insomnia.

Looking for the Womenfolk?

If you are looking for information on The Womenfolk, look no further. You can read the original tribute here. To see what the surviving members look like you can click here.

To hear what the Womenfolk sounded like check out their MySpace page for audio. You can also click here to see video of them performing, and here to hear one of their songs on YouTube.

Other Womenfolk related stories can be found here, here, and here.