This Hurricane Blog is sobering reading. It is the most updated thing I've seen. Its a news channel blog and collects information. Example:

11:40 - (AP) Roving bands of looters are breaking into stores in Carrollton area to get food and supplies. They've also stolen guns and armed themselves.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 01:57 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
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By now, I assume everyone knows that New Orleans is dying, drowning as the levees have been breached and the city turns into a tidal arm of the Gulf of Mexico. The images are all over the television and all over the newspapers. Even the NY Times has devoted four or five full pages of coverage to the devastation in Louisiana and Mississippi. People rescued, people dead, people trapped, people dying, babies being born, looters stealing everything not nailed down. Looks like a bad science fiction novel about the world ending. But, as bad as it may be, and I have so many friends living down there who I cannot get in touch with and who I worry about, I want to focus on a different issue.

Cities can be rebuilt. New Orleans can be drained of the water, the snakes sent packing back into the swamps, the alligators captured and either eaten (trust me on this, they're pretty yummy) or relocated, and the bricks stacked back up. Indeed, the Times was forecasting in the months ahead a huge economic boom for the area fueled by federal assistance and private insurance money payouts (assuming, of course, that the damage was caused by wind and not water -- a tough argument ahead for many).

But even as the city is rebuilt and life begins again, there are some things that cannot be replaced. What will be gone will be the cultural heritage and artifacts that served to connect us with our ancestors. What am I talking about? The museums have died, the cultural repositories of our collective past and memories, and with them, the city dies.

There are some wonderful museums in New Orleans: the D-Day Museum; the Civil War Museum (in a great Richardson building just off Lee Circle); the New Orleans Museum of Art; the City of New Orleans Museum; the State of Louisiana Museum in 8 historic buildings around Jackson Square; and the Mardi Gras Museum. The flood waters will not deal kindly with these places. The waters will erase our memories just as the diaries and letters home of the young Civil War soldiers will surely perish. The paintings. I can't even begin to think about the paintings. All of the ephemera will be just that, ephemeral and evanescent.

I include in this the great libraries at Tulane University and Loyola University, two of the many colleges in New Orleans. I assume that they are gone, along with their collections of rare books and prints.

And what about the parish churches and courthouses, with their centuries of records of births, deaths, wills, land transfers, famous disputes, and all the records that make up our collective heritage? Again, I assume they are gone.

You can rebuild a city.

You cannot remake a heritage. So, while I mourn, quietly, for the city and those who have lost everything to the hurricane, I ask you to join with me and mourn the loss to us all of that which connected us to our past. We are a young nation, still, and our past is always with us and thus even more precious.

Finally, and again, I have not seen anything on this, what happened to the poor animals at Audubon Zoo?

Last night, and this is what got me thinking about all of this, I ran into an old friend on the train, someone I have not seen in 15 years. It wasn't even a train that he normally ever takes. I wasn't sure I even recognized him, but then I saw the tie -- a Southern tie. The Yacht Club. The SYC. That clinched it for me. He told me that Southern, where I had passed many happy moments, had burned to the ground. You can see it here.

U P D A T E: Sept. 1, 2005

From the New Orleans Times Picayune:

Floodwater stops short of City Park museum

By Dante Ramos and Doug MacCash
Staff Writers

The New Orleans Museum of Art survived Hurricane Katrina and its aftermath without significant damage.

But when Federal Emergency Management Agency representatives arrived in the area Wednesday, NOMA employees holed up inside the museum were left in a quandary:

FEMA wanted those evacuees to move to a safer location, but there was no way to secure the artwork inside.
Six security and maintenance employees remained on duty during the hurricane and were joined by 30 evacuees, including the families of some employees.

Harold Lyons, a security console operator who stayed on at the museum, said FEMA representatives were the first outsiders to show up at the museum in days.

They immediately tried to persuade staffers to leave the building. That would have left no one to protect the museumÂ’s contents, and no one inside the museum had the authority to give that order, Lyons said as he inspected the grounds.

Museum Director John Bullard was on vacation and assistant Director Jacquie Sullivan had taken a disabled brother to Gonzales.

“We can’t just leave and turn out the lights on the say-so of someone we don’t know,’’ Lyons said.

The phones inside the museum had failed. Lyons asked a reporter to pass a message to Sullivan as soon as possible.

Interviewed by telephone, Sullivan said she had been in close contact with emergency management officials all day Wednesday. State Police had promised to take her back to the museum at 7 a.m. Thursday, she said.

City Park was littered with fallen trees, but evacueesÂ’ cars, clustered around the museumÂ’s walls, were mostly unscathed. The museum itself was spared any wind damage, and floodwater had not reached the building.

Inside, the museumÂ’s generators whirred away, providing air conditioning to preserve the priceless artworks.

Sullivan said museum workers had taken down some pieces in the Sydney and Walda Besthoff Sculpture Garden before the storm.

But a towering modernist sculpture by Kenneth Snelson was reduced to a twisted mess in the lagoon.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 09:45 AM | Comments (8) | Add Comment
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I am overwhelmed with lassitude and unblogginess today. I can't seem to get excited about writing about any of the things I thought interesting today. So, instead, I choose to meander. You are welcome to tag along, if you wish, but only if you would wear a scooby-doo band aid to work. I require that you be prepared to exhibit that level of not taking yourself too seriously today to go any farther. Ok?

*First, the text of a movie review from the NY Times today:

Another neglected Eurotrash classic resurrected - in an extremely good print - by Mondo Macabro DVD, "Girl Slaves of Morgana Le Fay" is a 1971 French softcore sex and horror film that might have been directed by Jacques Rivette and written by Jean Cocteau. Obliquely based on the legend of King Arthur's half-sister, the sorceress, the picture takes place almost entirely within a remote chateau, where Morgana (Dominique Delpierre), employs her ancient wiles to recruit a young tourist (Mireille Saunin) into the ranks of her female love slaves, all gifted with immortality. To keep things lively, Morgana's court also includes a psychotic dwarf (Alfred Baillou) with an excessive fondness for eyeliner and a lust for revenge.

Despite the ultra low budget, and the apparent inability of the cameraman to create a single atmospheric shot, the film - the first to be directed by Bruno Gantillon - develops a real sense of mystery and fantasy, chiefly through a theatrical stylization of movement and dialogue (choral forms predominate) that casts a spell not unlike Mr. Rivette's celebrated "Céline and Julie Go Boating," which "Morgana" predates by three years. A genuine curiosity, presented here with appropriate respect and illuminating supplementary material, including Mr. Gantillon's short film "An Artistic Couple." $19.95. Not rated.

As one of my co-workers astutely points out: lesbian love slaves and dwarves, how can you go wrong? Indeed.

And how cool a job does the reviewer have, huh?

*Second, it seems like summer is slipping away, taking with it half memories and full truths of summers past: sticking to the faux-leather seats in my dad's Oldsmobile, cooled only by the breeze from the windows; sand in places sand should not comfortably be; smelling like sun tan oil; eating anything by the sea because it is a truism that food consumed next to salt water simply tastes better; children kissed golden brown by the sun; the Girl Child demonstrating the cannon ball; the Girl Child learning how to swim and throwing herself into the big kids' pool, totally without any fear, to demonstrate her new skills; the Boy Child throwing up his hand and yelling "MEG!" (pronounced "my") when asked who was going to the Kiddy Pool or to the "Beak" (his word for beach); the feeling that your whole life still stretches in front of you as the days become longer and the sunlight keeps coming, long into the evening; the sailboats tacking back and forth as they race on the Sound, looking sleek and purposeful; the explosion of the fried clam belly in your mouth with all of its richness, so powerful as to almost be too much, although you finish the whole order anyway; the taste of that cold, cold beer that somehow never tastes the same, never seems quite so necessary in February; summer's happiest tomatoes (need I say more?); and, finally, the bittersweet realization that the beach toys are soon to be packed away, the life guards gone back to school, and the days grown shorter, until all I have left are these thoughts.

*I don't really get the whole Cindy Sheehan thing. At first, I have to say, I thought it just fine that she wanted to meet with the President, sort of in the grand tradition of common citizens meeting with Lincoln at the height of the Civil War. But now, I have come to think her a lightning rod for fools, a rallying point for the wacky left and the ugly right, a place where people who hate America can come together and find common ground. It never ceases to amaze me how much the extreme left and the extreme right have in common. I just wish David Duke and Al Sharpton had been visiting Ms. Sheehan on the same day. That would have been gorgeous to see. Either way, we contain multitudes, this nation of ours. Welcome to the tumult.

*I wonder, sometimes, about why I continue to blog. I donÂ’t have an answer. Until I come up with one, I will, like the milkmanÂ’s horse, keep coming back here almost every day and continue to write. Do you know which post of mine takes the most comments? Easily, without comparison, its the one on Welsh hip hop. Click on the category page for that topic and marvel at how alive that music scene is.

*My Gmail seems to be down. Thank goodness. Jim and I have been torturing each other with School House Rock songs, throwing snatches of lyrics at each other. With my email down, that gives me last word.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 03:42 PM | Comments (5) | Add Comment
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Recall, please, that the Girl Child is only just 4 1/2 years old, ok?

We are attempting to correct her behavior. She sucks her thumb at night, during naps, and when she is very tired. It is starting to deform her teeth and we have been advised to make it stop. So, we've talked to her about it, explained that it isn't good for her, that we'd like her to stop, and, per the doctor's suggestion, instituted a sticker chart reward system -- so many days without sucking will equal a movie or something like that. We're not at all convinced that any of this is working, mind you, but we're fighting the good fight.

On Sunday, my wife told me (I was out at Home Depot), the Girl Child came down from her nap and had the following conversation with my wife:

GC [tone earnest, eyes wide, head shaking for emphasis] : Mamma, I didn't suck my thumb during my nap. But, when I got up, I went and washed my hands for a really long time and I only washed my thumbs, so, if my thumbs look a little wrinkled, that's why.

My wife told me that she was instantly terrified. I mean, if this is the outstanding kind of lie she can come up with at 4 1/2, imagine what she'll be like at 13. We're doomed. She is probably smarter than us both.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 11:37 AM | Comments (17) | Add Comment
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1 Oh, are you in trouuuuble.

Posted by: Allison at August 29, 2005 01:44 PM (ddjrP)

2 Oh my. I LOVE the GC. (Perhaps she and I are related somehow) May I suggest a sticker calendar for the parents?

Posted by: Wicked H at August 29, 2005 01:44 PM (BQhBn)

3 Ha,ha! I always laugh when I hear people carry on about how children Always Tell The Truth. Little do they realize how devious the little darlin's can be. Sounds like GC is varsity material.

Posted by: Robert the Llama Butcher at August 29, 2005 02:14 PM (IkTb7)

4 My parents got me to stop sucking the thumb with a simple little bottle. The liquid in the bottle was called "Yucky Stuff". Or maybe that's just the name I gave it. It was painted on my thumbs sort of like nail polish would. If I ever forgot it was on there I would be quite disgusted when I popped my thumb in... it tasted AWFUL!

Posted by: suzanne at August 29, 2005 02:34 PM (GhfSh)

5 Yeah, but I'm pretty sure she'll use her powers for good and not evil. ;o)

Posted by: Margi at August 29, 2005 02:36 PM (nwEQH)

6 The Girl Child is my heroine. I want a T-Shirt with "Do What The Girl Child Says And No One Gets Hurt!" Heh.. Seriously, we went through this with my Girl Child at about the same age. I flat-out bribed her. Back then, we still had those big, thick toy catalogs from Sears or JC Pennys. I told her she could have anything she wanted in there *provided* she stop sucking her thumb for one month. She picked out the Fisher-Price Complete Kitchen set, with the refrigerator, microwaves, stove and oven and dishes set. The entire set came to over $100, which at that time was a LOT of money for struggling young couple with two little kids. But she did it and we bought it. It worked! Of course, maybe she'd like a trip somewhere or something as a reward. Or something else that she would greatly desire. I believe in bribes for children. They work very well. *grins* Anyway, good luck. Yes, her lying seems to be coming along quite nicely. HA! Did you ever see the Bill Cosby routine about little kids lying? Hysterical!

Posted by: Amber at August 29, 2005 02:37 PM (zQE5D)

7 Trouble, man y'all are in deep trouble. I'd recommend consuming large amounts of Gin to help ease the pain.

Posted by: phin at August 29, 2005 03:18 PM (Xvpen)

8 I too have a 4 1/2 year old girl that still is a big thumb-sucker--much more so than the 2 1/2 year old. There seems to be mixed opinions on whether it causes teeth damage or not, so we haven't pushed stopping it. Only very gentle nudging so far. It is amazing how well they can concoct a story. My husband and I already know we are in big trouble. Our only hope is to convince them we know more than we actually do.

Posted by: lawmom at August 29, 2005 03:46 PM (XhYQ0)

9 Oh, my. I'd say, Mr. RP, you will have an interesting set of teen years ahead of you. But I'm betting Margi's assessment is correct. My baby boy has sucked his thumb since before birth. He's even doing it in the ultrasound photos. And even still, at 17, every once in a great while when he's sound asleep early in the morning, I still catch sight of the thumb in the mouth. He'd absolutely *kill* me dead for putting that here. :-$

Posted by: Jennifer at August 29, 2005 05:15 PM (jl9h0)

10 The question is, can you spot the lies? As a lawyer, there must be a lot of lie detection as part of your daily life. My husband and I agree we were both shameless liars as children, but we grew to learn that it wasn't a good idea. Our son is either a really bad liar, or we are really good at lie detection. He learned quickly that it isn't easy to pull one over on us. As far as the thumb sucking issue: if you have a bad habit (and I'm not saying you do) you could agree that you will quit them together. It becomes more of a learning experience and something you can talk with honestly about with her - about how hard it is to quit something you are so used to doing. Laurel

Posted by: Laurel at August 29, 2005 07:47 PM (Mz7vH)

11 Troooooouble. That girl is going to be trouble with a capital 't'. I love the GC, but you two are so in for it

Posted by: Kathy at August 29, 2005 11:10 PM (QKvIa)

12 My sister gave up her fa-fa (passifier) to Santa at the age of 4--my parents were desperate. Of course, this only worked until she found it again in the knife utility drawer once she figured out how to access the kitchen counters. I can tell many stories about his period, but I won't. Definitely try the bribery! Unfortunately., you can't *really* hide the thumb like my parents hid the fa-fa.

Posted by: Mandarin at August 30, 2005 01:11 AM (+eH+G)

13 The solution, RP, is the Boy Child. Once he's old enough he'll be volunteering counterintelligence on the Girl Child. And vice-versa, of course. The challenge then becomes getting them to stop ratting on each other. Then again, GC seems to have BC wrapped pretty securely around her finger. Maybe she's figured out this problem with sibling witnesses and is taking proactive measures. ;-)

Posted by: Jim at August 30, 2005 06:22 AM (oqu5j)

14 LOL .... aren't kids great! Well there is a up side to the GC's creativity in that she is starting early and therefore you have a chance to teach her the importance of honesty. However, she probably is smarter than both of you. Its something that all parents learn eventually! Good luck and thanks for the laughing reminder of my memories of raising my daughters.

Posted by: dee at August 30, 2005 11:33 AM (sZnML)

15 Does this ever bring back memories! My husband looked at our GC at one point when she was about the same age as yours and said ,"she'll either be Prime Minister or a felon." Have fun trying to keep up with her.

Posted by: Jocelyn at August 30, 2005 02:44 PM (p6cmr)

16 RP, You could always refer her to this classic cautionary tale.

Posted by: MCNS at August 30, 2005 03:08 PM (pbCqD)

17 Oh wow, she is good!!! In terms of sucking her thumb; perhaps start with a specific, short, time period. It would be hard to stop a habit that one does automatically when one is asleep. When she is very tired, and starts to put her thumb in her mouth, stop her at that point, and reward her for not putting her thumb back in her mouth. You might also want to find her a different sort of soothing behaviour. Have her help you figure out something and then get her to switch to that instead.

Posted by: Rachel Ann at August 30, 2005 04:31 PM (Sb9NF)

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New Orleans is about to get hit by the worst possible kind of storm. Updates are available at NOLA.com. They are predicting a storm which will overwhelm the levies and innundate the city. You may not know, but New Orleans is the only major city in the country under sea level.

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The week, thankfully, is drawing to a close. It was a miserable week, by and large. I am not sorry to see it go, no matter how spendthrift that makes me seem with the small amount of time granted to me on this earth. I'm happy to pretend that this week was no different from trying to hold water in my hands, that the week had to drain away no matter what I did. That's the good thing about time, right? That it wounds all heels, or something?

Still, the week has ended / is ending on a positive note and I shall reflect on the highlights here:

*Thank you all for the very kind comments you left and for the private emails you sent me. It was an unlooked for, unexpected kindness, the best kind really.

*Dinner with Simon was really a bright spot. We happily chatted away for 3+ hours and I think it could have been more if I didn't have to catch a train.

*I will note that most weeks generally will not include a trip to the dentist among a list of highlights but this was not most weeks. Being out of the office was just grand. No matter how much discomfort.

*I already had a screening interview for a new job here in NYC. Keeping my fingers crossed. The interview went smashingly well, so we'll just have to see. If it works out, it will mean a career change. That sounds very nice at this point in time. Very nice.

*Just the same, I had a new client come in today for a preliminary consultation. A young guy, younger than me, but successful. Sounds like a nifty little case and one I'd enjoy doing. I'll quote him a fee on Monday and see if he wants to retain me. When I say little, I don't mean to demean him or his 7 figure plus problem, I just mean that it felt very self-contained. But I already see a couple of places where I could change that, change the dynamic of the interactions he's had with the defendants and maybe blow things up a bit. Like starting with disqualifying the defendants' law firm. That always upsets people.

*My kids were flat out joys to be around this week. No qualification possible. I may have the cutest kids in the whole world. Last night, I read "The Enormous Crocodile", by Roald Dahl, to the Girl Child. Couldn't help myself at the end, when Trunky the Elephant is swinging the Enormous Croc around and the Croc says, "Let me go!", from then saying/singing: "I will not let you go . .Let me go. . .I will not let you go. . .Let me go". Shameless, I am. After the reading, the Boy Child crawled up onto the Girl Child's bed and, at the invitation of the Girl Child, lay his little curly blond head on her lap so she could stroke his hair and forehead. He looked up at her and told her that he loved her. I wanted to cry. It was that beautiful, that perfect. Makes all the work stuff seem trivial.

*I got another expression of interest from another head hunter about some in house compliance positions. May not go anywhere at all, but you know what? It don't got to go no where. See, what it is, is hope. Hope is a powerful and uplifting emotion. It can pull you out of the dumps, let you lift your head up and contemplate the horizon a little. Once you see the horizon, you know that the shitty place you may be in at the moment can and will be a memory. Hope lets you imagine a different future and when your present doesn't amuse, a different future is a wonderful thing to be able to muse about. So, I'm enjoying my little shot of hope. I'm even a bit buzzed on it, truth be told. I can see myself in that future and, even if it turns out to suck, it least it would be a different kind of suck. Right?

*Another high point may be that these horrible peasant skirts which are all the rage this summer could be reaching their natural end. I have yet to see a woman look good in a peasant skirt. Really. I wish the fashion industry would stop being run by people who hate women.

I'll leave you with this, which a friend sent me. Seems appropriate:

Posted by: Random Penseur at 02:55 PM | Comments (11) | Add Comment
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Some day, I intend to look back at the last several days and laugh. Probably not for a really long time, mind you, but one day. Stands to reason, right? I mean, it kind of has to be that way. If not, I will be very sorry indeed.

Anyway, a bright spot on the horizon. I am off to have dinner with Simon, that exceptionally smart, erudite and all around good guy from Hong Kong. We're off for Austrian food way downtown. I'm very much looking forward to this and have been for weeks. And right now, at least, it looks as if I will not have to cancel on him, which is nice since he came all this way. Anyway, I'm pretty excited.

Finally, in lieu of any other post today, I will leave you with the words of the Girl Child from this weekend informing her mother and me about her plans for the future:

GC: When I grow up, I want to be a ballerina and a butterfly. The only problem is that I don't know how to make a cocoon.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 05:09 PM | Comments (8) | Add Comment
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Some friends have checked back in to see if I updated from the Bay Day post of Thursday. I would have, but I didn't feel like whining. So, instead, I opted not to post. Let me just note that Friday was actually worse than Thursday. I was actually despondent, a word I do not use lightly. Indeed, I actually, in the little cracks of time I could find, managed to get out 6-8 job applications to places all over the country -- Phoenix; San Diego; and at least one or two other places I can no longer recall. May have been an act of desperation, beats me. I am not going to examine it too deeply or too closely. Instead, I'm just going to roll with the punches and see what happens.

I think I'll know better by Monday end of day or Tuesday morning how its gonna shake out. Right now, I guess it could go either way.

Anyway, thanks for caring enough to check in and request an update.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 09:16 PM | Comments (5) | Add Comment
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The Girl Child, aged 4.5, just blows me away with the sophistication of her vocabulary and I wanted to note some of the things she said today before I forget them:

Me: Mamma, did you see that the Boy Child ate all of his mango with his fork?

GC (to me): Hey, so did I.

Me: Yeah, but his was a bigger accomplishment, it seems to me.

GC: But then why was mine a smaller accomplishment?

I explained, I promise, that it was because the Boy Child and the fork were but recent acquaintances.

GC: Pappa, where are the rest of the pieces of my puzzle?

Me: Well, did you leave them on the table?

GC: Yes, I did, but someone must have come along and removed them!

I don't know how special or different this makes her to anyone else, but to me, it seems quite remarkable.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 09:08 PM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
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Expect no posts today.

Having one of those bad days with respect to a case I have an emergency in wherein one alternates between vertigoes feelings of despair, complete with desire to vomit and feelings that legal research reveals a glimmer of hope through which the needle can be threaded, the rocks and shoals successfully navigated, and the ship brought home safely without foundering on issues better left to the imagination.

I think I want a new career. Just saying.

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A misspent youth is all I can blame for the following results to the test I found at Lawren's place:

Bacardi 151 Congratulations! You're 144 proof, with specific scores in beer (60) , wine (133), and liquor (121).

All right. No more messing around. Your knowledge of alcohol is so high that you have drinking and getting plastered down to a science. Sure, you could get wasted drinking beer, but who needs all those trips to the bathroom? You head straight for the bar and pick up that which is most efficient.

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I have to say that I really enjoy shopping for suits. It is a hugely tactile experience for me. I almost close my eyes and walk down the rack for my size and run my fingers along the suits, stopping only when I hit some fabric that feels especially fine. Then and only then do I look at the suit and the pattern. In the first instance, its all about the material, baby. Its gotta be wool and its gotta feel good. Don't let someone tell you that there isn't a difference between suit manufacturers or that all the suits are the same or that wool is wool. Wool is most certainly not just wool. Really.

Today, I went to my favorite store. Don't ask for the name, they're doing just fine without my plug and I don't want to have to fight to get in there, ok? It is not a street level men's store and they don't rely on walk in customers. In fact, I don't even think that there's a sign in the lobby. And when you get to the door, you have to be buzzed in. At least you don't have to knock three times first.

I went because I needed a new tuxedo. I have lost a bit of weight and my old one cannot be taken in as much as it needs to be taken in. I looked like a kid playing dress up in his father's clothes when I tried it on. Also, I realized, looking at my calendar, that I am going to be wearing black tie at least six times between September 1 and December 31. So, I bought one and, like with any suit, I chose between two models and picked the one with the better feeling wool.

What did I get, you may ask? Or maybe you don't care. Well, I'm gonna tell you anyway, so there.

I bought a beautiful Hickey Freeman tuxedo for about 60% off. See, the fabric has to feel good but the deal has to also feel good. Welcome to NY. The deal has to be there. Only suckers pay retail in NY. Or really rich people. I know I'm not rich and I like to think I am not a sucker, or at least rarely. Hickey Freeman makes beautiful, exceptionally constructed suits out of gorgeous materials. The only better off the rack suit is Oxxford and I cannot afford them, even on sale.

The tuxedo has a shawl collar. This is not something you see so often but I am enough of a clothes horse to want one. With a shawl collar you don't look like you are either wearing just a black suit or are part of the catering staff.

It looks like this:

Something about the shape and drape of the collar and the whole jacket just feels like a throw back to the 1920's and 1930's. Just something very elegant about the look and the statement it makes. Another nice thing about it is that you do not look like everybody else when wearing a shawl collar. Subtly, you stand out a bit. And that's not at all a bad thing, it seems to me.

Now, I just have to talk my wife into letting me go back and get some new suits. They're having a sale and the fabrics were to die for, as my grandmother used to say.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 02:56 PM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
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I do that sometimes. Hell, everyone does that sometimes. The internet makes it easy. You sit at your desk and you click through possible job openings in related fields and, with a click of a button, you apply for jobs in Salt Lake City and Los Angeles and Chicago. All places you don't really want to live in, mind you, but they kind of have to be far away to qualify for other life status. A move to a far away place is an integral requirement for this out of current life fantasy.

Or you think, gee, what happens if the money actually comes in from whatever (inheritance, some big case, lottery, or that old mine you bought so many years ago when the price of that mineral was at next to nothing), where would you move to? And you click on real estate listings in whatever city catches your interest at that particular moment.

Today, that was New Orleans, the city of some of my mis-spent youth. I played around with the real estate listings, knowing all the while that I would really have to be out of my head completely if I decided to ever move back there or own property there. Seriously, all the mature indicia augur against any such decision. In short, it would be stupid.

But then you allow the domestic architecture to seduce you. You realize you could own a 130 year old house with a staircase that looks like this:

And you think to yourself, maybe it wouldn't be so bad living back down there. I mean, that house is gorgeous, isn't it?

I have never lived in a city as house proud as New Orleans. I used to love, just love, driving around and looking. To my great fortune, I was friends with some very socially prominent people down there and thus invited into some of the grander houses for Mardi Gras house parties. To see these houses was a real privilege.

I miss the houses. I miss the city. I seriously doubt I could ever live there again, no matter how much I want to fantasize about it.

My wife is so patient with me when I get like this. IÂ’m a lucky guy.

Still, that wanderlust is rising. . .

Posted by: Random Penseur at 04:03 PM | Comments (6) | Add Comment
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Background

It was around 4:00 yesterday afternoon. The kids were napping, I was updating security software on the laptop, the Yankees game was on mute on the television, the a/c was humming away quietly, and classical music was playing on the radio. Then the storm hit and it hit with a fury. Lightening flashing, thunder booming, and the rain coming down fast and heavy, driven against the house by the wind.

*POP* Out go the lights, out goes everything powered by electricity. Everything. Including the sump pumps in the basement, it just occurred to me. Gotta check that tonight. Oh, well. Hopefully that will be ok.

The kids were still napping but when they woke up, just like that, they were knocked out of our century. We lit the house with candles in whatever rooms we were in -- none of the candles were left unattended. Too scary a thought. My wife ordered pizza in for dinner and after dinner we all played on the floor of the den and then all over the house. The kids were tumbling over each other like puppies. It was adorable. And the house looked pretty nice in the candle light. It was an interesting exercise, a throwback to times past.

Connecticut was hit pretty hard by this storm. The mayor of Stamford compared it to some horrible ice storm in the 1930's.

And we were totally unprepared. Well, not totally. We did have flashlights and candles, canned food and cell phones, bottled water and other things. But, we were fortunate in that we just happened to have this stuff from prior storms and prior incidents. We've done very little in the way of major storm planning.

So, I'm going to do that here and invite comments. I am fortunate in having somehow attracted some terribly smart people to my blog (why, I have no idea) and I'm going to take advantage of it now and ask for your thoughts on disaster planning.

The Plan

*Enough flashlights for every person in the house
*Extra supply of fresh batteries
*Good battery powered radio
*First aid kit
*Figure out how to open garage door when power fails
*Make sure cars are gassed up in advance of major storm predicted
*Buy a couple of battery powered camping table lights
*Establish emergency supply of bottled water
*Get shelf stable milk in small packages for Boy Child
*Make sure to have several rolls of duct tape (hey, you never know)
*In advance of storm arrival, unplug all sensitive electronics
*In advance of storm arrival, turn fridge and freezer to coldest setting and move some of the ice packs from freezer into fridge.
*In advance of storm, make sure cell phones are charged.
*Keep emergency cash in the house.
*Post list of not commonly used phone numbers on door of fridge -- power company, water company, telephone company, etc.
*Make sure that there is a princess phone for use when power outage takes out wireless phone system.
*Make sure that you have enough shelf stable (i.e., canned or dried) food for at least three meals. More than that you ought to probably get out of the house, it seems to me.
*In advance of storm, run dishwasher to make sure you have clean dishes and place for dirty ones.

*For winter, make sure that you have some wood to burn in the fireplace since the furnace will go out, according to the nice oil company lady I just spoke to. Are there viable battery operated heaters?

So, what do you all think? Missing anything important? Including anything silly?

Thanks, in advance, for your thoughts on this.

UPDATE:

Happily, after placing a call to the people who put in the sump pumps for the prior owners, I have learned that the sump pumps are on a back up battery system good for around 6700 gallons of water. I think that I will not have to worry about the basement. Which is nice.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 10:59 AM | Comments (23) | Add Comment
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1 Maybe throw in a few extra mecessities like flashlights and batteries for any nearby neighbors. That way, if you have forgotten anything that they might have, you could trade...or, of course, just accumulate some good karma.

Posted by: Jessica at August 15, 2005 11:12 AM (9wQUZ)

2 Take it from me, I learned the hard way. You need a generator for the sump pumps and when you run them they need to be outside not inside the house.

Posted by: Wicked H at August 15, 2005 11:24 AM (iqFar)

3 I've been through several earthquakes, plus a riot. I'd say overall that your list may be a little too complicated. I would move emergency cash to the top, along with the battery radio; some of the other stuff, like the camping light, can probably go. The suggestion about the generators is very good. It's possible to buy disaster kits; you can check at the store for what they include. I would also look at your appliances -- do you have any older ones on natural gas that need to have pilots re-lit? If so, you may want to get some very long matches to relight same, and possibly bone up on the procedures. You won't get utility response soon after a disaster.

Posted by: John Bruce at August 15, 2005 11:35 AM (bdQSO)

4 Goodness, it's like one of those disaster movies from the 70's. Just relax, it'll be ok. If you do need to plan, all you need is a cell phone, some beer and Oreos (fruit juice and sandwich materials for the kids). It's good to have flashlights, etc around, and I always keep some bottled water available. Think about it this way-if you had been prepared with the flashlights and the Coleman camping stove, etc...wouldn't you have missed as wonderful an evening as it sounded like you had? I'm just saying. I do keep flashlights on hand, but I also know when electricity has handed me a blessing by cutting off and offering me a book and some candlelight

Posted by: Helen at August 15, 2005 11:46 AM (ATx6T)

5 PS-it's worth noting that I have been in every kind of disaster known to man, with the exception of a house fire (knock on wood). Earthquake, tornadoes, hurricanes, blizzards, wind storms, a riot, electrical storms, and yes-one volcano eruption. "Roll with the punches" is something I understand.

Posted by: Helen at August 15, 2005 11:48 AM (ATx6T)

6 Walkie talkies. Camping stove. Anything that can keep you dry and warm. Matches. Extra newspaper to start the fire. Pencil/pen and paper in a reliable place. That's all I got for now...will keep thinking.

Posted by: CJ at August 15, 2005 02:09 PM (0yCni)

7 Ummm, a couple of days worth of bottled drinking water. I lived through the 500 year flood twelve years ago in Iowa. The water works for the entire city was flooded and there was no potable water for weeks for a quarter million people. And I mean weeks. In case something similar happens, you'll want bottled water on hand because a. all the stores will sell out very quickly and b. it generally takes days for the stores to be reloaded and the National Guard can help only so many people, eh? I would also highly recommend duct tape and a pair of wellies, just in case you have to go through sludge.

Posted by: Kathy at August 15, 2005 03:54 PM (QKvIa)

8 Fill the tub--sometimes the water system will go down & you'll be glad you have it to help flush the toilets (learned the hard way through Hurricane Andrew). If you have enough warning, fill up a cooler or two with ice.

Posted by: Phyllis at August 15, 2005 04:48 PM (NFind)

9 Carry a cigarette lighter in your pocket. It's great to have flashlights and candles; it's not so great to bump into half of the walls and furnituyre while you feel your way around for them. You can't keep a lighter burning, though, so you **click**, take a few steps, let it go out and wait a few seconds (maybe blow on it to cool it), repeat until you've got your hands on a flashlight. Learned that the hard way. I've got candles in my room, but definately need the lighter to find them.

Posted by: Tuning Spork at August 15, 2005 07:11 PM (wJRvr)

10 cash. my sister got stuck in the south bronx with almost no gas...and no cash on 9/11. this day and age i never really carry any...well - i do now.

Posted by: sn at August 15, 2005 08:50 PM (cHOGW)

11 You didn't mention any sort of first aid kit. At the very least, you should have several days worth of any prescription meds your family might need.

Posted by: owlish at August 15, 2005 10:25 PM (kVnh2)

12 When we were iced into our house in Nashville without electricity for a solid week, we used our cast iron dutch oven stove from my great great grandmother (probablu from the early 1900s or so) to make stews using the coals in our fireplace. Nothing high tech, and we used alot of the dry goods we had on hand for it. When we got tired of that, though, we ate cold pop tarts.

Posted by: Mandalei at August 16, 2005 10:12 AM (+eH+G)

13 Move?

Posted by: GrammarQueen at August 16, 2005 01:24 PM (glf8i)

14 Champagne ........... always always have champagne.

Posted by: Mia at August 16, 2005 02:18 PM (B6Pag)

15 ohhhhh and maple syrup. Actually a few tins of condensed (sweet) milk would be a good idea.

Posted by: Mia at August 16, 2005 02:20 PM (B6Pag)

16 I agree with the above- Cash, flashlights, candles, water... And T.P. A stock of paper cups and plates wouldn't hurt either. Thanks for the link!!

Posted by: Rob at August 16, 2005 02:23 PM (i3q83)

17 Comic books.

Posted by: Amy at August 16, 2005 03:22 PM (nUCsP)

18 One year at the beginning of hurricane season in Florida my husband came home from a trip and said, "Why did you buy C batteries?" I said, "Because batteries were on the Hurricane Preparedness List published in the newspaper." He said, "We don't have anything that takes C batteries."

Posted by: Amy at August 16, 2005 03:23 PM (nUCsP)

19 Slightly off subject, but this is the second time today someone has mentioned this storm. We happened to be in Westport on Sunday (stopping off at the in-laws). The storm was certainly intense for a little bit where we were, but nothing really out of the ordinary. The power never even flickered. Interesting.

Posted by: Robert the Llama Butcher at August 16, 2005 05:24 PM (IkTb7)

20 The only thing I can add to the impeccable advice above? A sense of humor. Always, always keep it on hand, and don't leave - or go - home without it.

Posted by: Jennifer at August 16, 2005 07:37 PM (DOcmJ)

21 If you're going to plan, plan for a bad one. More food, more water, more candles, more batteries. A week's worth of stable food at least, same for water, along with purification tabs to make extra water safe. Don't forget supplies for any pets you have. Axe or hatchet, and a good bow saw. Tarps. Rope, cord, twine, string, etc. It would be hard to keep too much rope. Chemical glow sticks for the kids instead of candles, for night lights and on stairs and such. Easier, safer, and conserves batteries. Someone gave an excellent idea above about filling the tub. Also fill any sinks. And if it looks really bad, any buckets, rinsed out milk jugs and pretty much anything else that'll hold water. Water is going to be the one thing that's absolutely necessary to survive. And if the municipal supply gets contaminated, it takes time to become safe again.

Posted by: Ted at August 17, 2005 12:30 PM (blNMI)

22 I love the part about running the dishwasher before a storm. Made me laugh. Paper, my man, paper plates, plastic utensils, paper cups. Industrial-sized trashbags for many reasons. Be sure wallets, purses, etc are where you can get them in a hurry in case you're running out the door.

Posted by: Howard at August 17, 2005 05:14 PM (u2JaN)

23 Brookstones sells the Ready Lite flashlight that requires no batteries. Although I couldn't find a link for you, I bought the all in one radio, cell phone charger, flashlight that is self-generating by winding a handle for a minute. I'll save a fortune in batteries. In my disaster kit is water purifying tablets, clorox and some medical supplies. Don't forget a manual can opener!

Posted by: Marie at August 18, 2005 09:50 AM (PQxWr)

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The eagle who sits over the entrance to Grand Central on 42nd and Vanderbilt. I'm not sure how I feel about him, but he does have a certain presense.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 02:43 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Well, since you all asked, here's the picture I took of the garage, filled with boxes after three straight days of unpacking.

Scary, huh?

Posted by: Random Penseur at 02:38 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
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Simple, really. Don't act your age, put whatever stupid sense of self-regard/dignity to one side.

Just be the only father at the pool today to do a cannonball. Make a really big splash. Bask in the admiration of the Girl Child.

Pray she does not request a demonstration of the belly flop.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 09:46 PM | Comments (5) | Add Comment
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I was detained, last night, by evil companions (a good friend and my wife) and only managed 5 hours of sleep. That's ok, all you need is five hours if you then go and mortify the flesh in the gym for about two hours. Indeed, that's also a good way to make walking later too painful to do much of. But back to last night.

I went with a dear friend who is an international expert on rare books and manuscripts and toured some of the highlights of a private book and manuscript collection at a private club here in New York City. Seeing and handling rare books is a pretty interesting experience. I don't have the rare book bug, although I probably could catch it if I let myself. Its just that I lack the time, the money, and the education. I have the inclination, at least mildly, but the inclination by itself will not a collection build. Which is good. Collections are a responsibility and I'm never really certain who owns whom. Does the collector own the collection or does the collection, which requires special care and storage and handling and security and professional care, own the collector?

This collection had some highlights and I was really very fortunate to be able to touch and admire the following:

*Mark Catesby's Natural History of Carolina, Florida and the Bahama Islands (London 1771). Catesby predated Audubon and his drawings of birds and plants were so extraordinarily colorful, even after some 230 years and so lifelike. It was the first natural history of America. We didn't look at the fish, but maybe another time.

Catesby's Natural History of Carolina, Florida, & The Bahama Islands is one of the great achievements of Anglo-American science in the eighteenth- century. Catesby's great folio plates provided the means by which Europeans could view the natural produce of North American and thus were a part of the continuing discovery of the continent. Most of Catesby's figures were based on watercolor sketches that he made in the field or upon specimens made available to him in England. The work remained a major source for the study of American plants and animals through its own century and even into the next.

HereÂ’s one of his prints of the Teal (blue winged):

Regrettably, when his books come up for auction, they are often bought by dealers who cut them up and sell the prints individually. I think thatÂ’s cultural vandalism, personally.

*Ptolmey's Geographica (Venice 1511). This was one of the most interesting of the renaissance version of the atlas and while they corrected some of Ptolmey's mistakes, they couldn't bring themselves to correct all of them. Especially noteworthy is that this contained the first map that showed North America, or so I'm told. A nice link here. Here's the map. Love the little putti:

I think the thing that most blew me away with this printing was the title page. It was in red and in the form of an inverted pyramid, I assume in homage to Egypt. It was such a modern feeling graphical design presentation and the red was so beautiful. So exceptional.

*A couple of examples from the William Morris printing house, Kelmscott Press. These were rich, lush and detailed printings. Stunning stuff. You can see some examples here. A nice collection of information on Morris here. We then saw the 1903 printing of the Doves Bible by Cobden Sanderson, a protege of Morris, who rejected the rich and lush look for a much more sparse and very powerful look. Cobden Sanderson believed that the font stood for itself and should be powerful enough to support the work by itself. Here is the first page from the Doves Bible, one of the most famous pages in printing history, I'm told:

Pretty impressive, no?

*Leaving out some of the Renaissance era architectural books we looked at, at my request, we also looked at sketches and drawing by George Cruikshank, a noted satirist and caricaturist of the 1800's, in the tradition of Hogarth. The drawings were marvelous, a collection of full out water colors in exquisite detail all the way down to doodles he did, and signed, on the backs of envelopes and receipts for erasers. My favorite was a very powerful unfinished sketch for a series of illustrations for Milton's Paradise Lost. The edition was never published and Cruikshank destroyed the plates and the drawings, except for this one. It was quite a thrill to see it, to know that I was looking at something that existed nowhere else. Cruikshank also painted wonderful animals -- dogs and horses, in the best tradition of an English artist, it seems to me. The Fine Arts Museum of San Francisco has a large collection of his works and many of the images are online.

We finished off the visit with an hour long drink with the curator as we chatted about wonderful rare books he had seen in the course of his long career. A very real book nerd evening. After he left, we adjourned for dinner.

All in all, an outstanding night. It is really quite an experience to hold a book published in 1511. Makes one feel a little less important in the grand scheme of things, which may not be so bad at all in our very individual focused society.

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IÂ’ve been musing a bit about knowledge. How do we know what we know and why do we think we know it? IÂ’m sure that philosophers and just philosophy majors have spent years and years debating these questions and have honed them down into a manageable mess. I am not a philosopher and I did not major in philosophy. Nor, for that matter, have I read much philosophy, preferring to leave my mind uncluttered to better appreciate the simple pleasures of beer and baseball, preferably at the same time. So, I bring no baggage to these questions.

My musings were prompted by a book IÂ’m reading. My dad gave it to me, I threw it into my bag and forgot about it. It isnÂ’t heavy, so carting it around without remembering I had it for several months was no hardship. I found it this week when I went digging for my as of yet not located notary stamp. Damn that stamp. Anyway, the book, One Nation Under Therapy : How the Helping Culture is Eroding Self-Reliance , is interesting. One chapter in particular got my attention. The chapter on grief counseling and grief therapy.

Basically, the book asserts, the long held and widely held beliefs that you need therapy to deal with your grief, that you need to vent, to share your emotions and how you feel about your loss, is a bunch of hooey. The belief doesnÂ’t stand up to scientific review. In fact, for some, therapy simply prolongs the grief. The book notes that the 5 stages of grief that have become common cultural touchstones are in fact a distortion of the work of the shrink who came up with it. The 5 stages were not meant to apply to survivors but to people who had just been told that they had an incurable disease. Interesting, no? Pretty much anyone you ask will tell you (I know, over-generalization but, hey, its my blog) that grief and recovery from follow certain recognized pathways, right?

I paid particular attention to this because of the state my grandfather is in, you know.

Well, how is it that this is thought to be true if it isn’t? How do we “know” something? How can we be certain we know something?

We learn things by hearing them or by reading them. We rarely examine primary sources or conduct experiments ourselves. In fact, I think that for most things, we are probably three or four, at best, stages removed from the knowledge. The experiment is performed and the results are observed. Stage 1. The results are written up in a paper and presented somewhere. Stage 2. The results are then published in a journal. Maybe Stage 3 maybe just another stage 2. Then someone, maybe someone with no science training, writes an article about the report. Stage 4. That article is read or skimmed in the newspaper by the consumer. Stage 5. Public exposure of the article results in, maybe, a television appearance in which someone long removed from the experiment discusses the experiment and the results. Rarely is it the scientist. Stage 6. Maybe you’ve caught the 120 seconds of television airtime summarizing the article that summarized the report that summarized the experiment. And you become guided by it. Maybe you repeat what you think you’ve learned to your friends or co-workers, always with the authoritative phrase, “studies show” without really knowing that maybe it was just one experiment. Stage 7. And then we have public knowledge. Far removed, in 7 approximate stages, from the experiment and totally dumbed down.

That is how as best as I can figure out, knowledge becomes widely spread. At best, for most of us, we get our knowledge at Stage 4, the article. At worst, Stage 7. It doesnÂ’t have to mean that the knowledge we obtain is unreliable, but it doesnÂ’t bode well for a high reliability factor, does it, not when I break it down like this, right?

Sometimes we learn from school and from text books and from lectures from teachers or experts. Again, we are asked to accept the “knowledge” imparted in the book or from the lecture. We are asked to accept it as true. But we all know that information in this context is rarely complete and that information is often distorted by outside political forces. Take, for example, textbooks. Textbooks are often reviewed for “sensitivity” issues, for whether they may give offense to other cultures. In that regard, how can we ever accept, uncritically, anything that ever appears in a textbook, again, knowing that the contents have been, perhaps, distorted? Don’t believe me? Go forth and see what Diane Ravitch has said about some of these things (and then throw up):

*Diane on Math and

*Diane on Language Police.

So what can we do? I think that when you have the time, you should read and read critically the source material that an assertion claims to be premised upon. Grief counseling evidently rests on a very shaky foundation of science, or so the book claims in synthesizing the research of others. Don’t accept the bland “studies show” assertion. Go find out for yourself. Inform yourself, educate yourself, empower yourself.

But do it selectively. I mean, at some level, you have to trust or at least decide that the matter isnÂ’t important enough for you to spend the time researching and you might as well accept what you read. Reductio ab absurdum and you find yourself repeating NewtonÂ’s experiments on gravity or learning ancient Greek because you donÂ’t trust the Sophocles criticism you were reading. So, clearly, at some level, it canÂ’t be taken too far. I assume we all, intuitively, know what that level is. If not, good luck figuring it out.

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I had the great pleasure of spending some time in one of the New York City offices of the New York State Department of Motor Vehicles yesterday. I had to return license plates now that I have the cars registered in Connecticut. While there, I saw a t-shirt on a young woman which bore the following inscription on the chest:

Objects under this shirt may be larger than they appear

Based on my careful examination of her shirt, I'd have to say that my test results were inconclusive. Still, great shirt.

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