To sell a house, to convey clear and good title, you need to be able to produce a Certificate of Occupancy (CO). A clean CO is needed because it shows the world that the town or village says that the structure you are selling is a legal and proper structure with no code violations on file. Failure to obtain and produce a clean CO will be taken to mean that you don't have the legal right to occupy the dwelling on the property that you own. As you might imagine, it is a big deal if something goes wrong with the CO.

Something went wrong with our CO. Our sellers, the people from whom we purchased the house we currently live in, built a brick patio in the backyard. According to our buyers, that brick patio does not appear on the CO or on the survey and thus we do not have a clean CO and we need to get this taken care of. I learned this yesterday.

I pretty much almost went through the fu*king roof when my lawyer told me this, since neither my lender nor my title agency told me this when I bought the house. This can be a real problem to fix because you need to fill out an application, attach a certified architect's plan, a check for a fee, and hope for the best.

Well, as it turns out, problem solved. The head of the Building Department and I had a very nice chat. First we gossiped a bit about mutual acquaintances and then he told me that he remembered inspecting the patio some 13 years ago and that it was built before zoning laws required a permit or CO for these kinds of patios and he would send me a letter to that effect. Believe me, I asked no questions designed to probe the acuity of that memory.

What an exceptional, unlooked for act of sheer kindness.

The letter arrived the next morning (today), by fax, and appears to resolve entirely the issue my buyers raised.

I now have a nice, clean, sparkling, shiny CO to convey.

Thank goodness for small towns and the nice people who actually think that from time to time they're there to help you, not hurt you.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 02:13 PM | Comments (7) | Add Comment
Post contains 391 words, total size 2 kb.

1 Cheers to the conveying of the clean and shiny CO. Clink!!! Burp...tee hee

Posted by: Wicked H at May 25, 2005 04:29 PM (BQhBn)

2 A clean CO means something entirely different to me. Of course, I'm warped that way. :: snicker :: Yay! No, really. YAY!

Posted by: Margi at May 25, 2005 07:56 PM (lWAiX)

3 small towns - yup! that's why i moved to one :-) congrats!

Posted by: sn at May 26, 2005 07:23 AM (6FCAy)

4 Since I'm in the house-buying stage, it's nice to know these things. And since I live in a small state, I know almost everyone...or knows someone who knows someone. Congrats, RP! When's the house-warming party?

Posted by: Howard at May 27, 2005 12:19 PM (u2JaN)

5 Yes, when's the house-warming party? Stephen and I would like to attend! I wanna meet the childs!!!

Posted by: Tuning Spork at May 27, 2005 11:25 PM (Q4TKE)

6 Most building and planning departments are headed by jerkoffs that thrive on a mixture of ego and a desire to muck up the simplest of issues with unnecessary details that clearly exhibit their "superior" knowledge and intellect. On the other hand, dealing with building inspectors is a completely different kettle of fish. While we happen to have a rare and decent sort of planning director, for nuts-and-bolts issues with permits and such I always go directly to the head building inspector first. And, while many people are unnaturally afraid of BI's, they usually are incredibly helpful without being draconian simply because they want to see jobs done right. Good to hear you got yours cleared up in a hurry.

Posted by: Mark at May 28, 2005 10:16 AM (JQvok)

7 Even though we live in a town that's become a burb to a huge metro area, you can still find the "small town" folks who do things like that just because it's the right thing to do. One encounter like that makes up for a whole lot of idiots.

Posted by: Ted at May 31, 2005 08:29 PM (+OVgL)

Hide Comments | Add Comment

In lieu of a real post, I give you the following "notes to self".

Hey, self, are you listening? Some reminders are in order:

*Don't use the stairmaster for the full 30 minutes when someone else beat you first to the machine of choice because it makes your knees hurt;

*Low sugar or no sugar candy or snacks are still crap;

*A clean Certificate of Occupancy is a happy C of O;

*Don't use your cell phone while crossing the street -- it's a good way to get squashed by a bus because you aren't paying attention to the world around you;

*It isn't necessary to prove that you are the smartest guy in the room and in fact by trying to do so, you might just prove the exact opposite;

*Don't guess if you don't know the answer to a question;

*Decisions made in haste, while they may be regretted later, are often the most exhilarating decisions to make; and,

*Have you recently told your wife how much you love her?

Posted by: Random Penseur at 01:47 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
Post contains 178 words, total size 1 kb.

This morning, I had the pleasure (ok, not really) of sitting and waiting for an hour while a court reporter was procured who could record our oral argument. So I sat and I watched. And I came to realize that I was in the place where dreams died, where hope is buried. I realize that sounds melodramatic but I was in a courtroom where every case but mine was what we in NY call a Domestic Relations case, a matrimonial part, a divorce and custody case.

The room was so weird. I don't do matrimonial work and IÂ’m so glad.

People start off married, usually, in the ordinary course, with great hopes for the future and dreams about the lives they are going to build together. This is part of the American dream, the fantasy wedding, the perfect spouse, then maybe some children and picture perfect Christmas cards with the beautiful children and Golden Retriever every year on the front.

Those dreams die in the matrimonial part. People come to bury their marriages, their hopes, their dreams, to fight over the issue of the marriage (the children), to battle over money and possessions. They start from love and end up in bitter hatred. I said to the Court Clerk, who I've come to know from before this Part was a matrimonial part, how can you stand the pain in this room? And he looked at me, surprised, and said, "I don't and I'm here every day".

The people in that room were interesting. There were lawyers and litigants. The lawyers seemed, many of them, to know each other. I guess it's a small bar, even in NYC. The lawyers were on friendly terms with each other, and that's to be expected when they're not in front of the judge trying to tear each other's hearts out. But the litigants. . .

The litigants were different, although democratic in terms of social class. First, every woman client in that room, whether her marriage was officially pronounced over by the State of New York or not, had taken off her wedding band and engagement ring. Every one. And I looked, out of curiosity. Second, the room ran the gamut of types of people -- young blond Upper East Side looking women; older people; young people who looked too young to be married; a woman in the uniform of the US Postal Service and she was sitting next to a much older man in a suit and tie who was wearing what must have been a $10,000 watch (and yes, I kind of know these things). Very democratic in that sense, as all the problems were washed up equally in front of this judge's bench.

And the hatred, hiding as indifference, the aggressive indifference as people there were ending their relationships. They would refuse to look at each other, even as they had to pass within inches of each other. Why, I wondered. Two of them were there to fight over custody, neither of them in the full flower of youth anymore, why couldn't they behave like adults, I wondered. How badly had they hurt each other that it came to this?

The postal worker sat next to me for a little while. I think she was not represented by counsel and I guess she took time off from work to attend this session of the Court. She looked so sad.

And one woman, one woman hovered behind her attorney as he made his argument to the bench. And she crept ever closer as he spoke, until, when the judge made a ruling, she stood behind him and buried her face in her hands and began to cry, very quietly. And no one in the room batted an eye as she almost silently wept, except for the lawyers there with me on the commercial case. We don't usually see clients cry. But then, we don't usually hang out in a place where dreams go to die.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 02:21 PM | Comments (14) | Add Comment
Post contains 673 words, total size 4 kb.

I am back from Court, where I was this morning as a judge sat there, after tens of thousands of dollars, no exaggeration, were spent on motion papers, and said she hadn't read the papers and what were we down on. An outrage. A total outrage.

Anyway, I am more mellow now after an excellent lunch at an old style Spanish restaurant. I had arugula with manchego cheese in a sherry vinegar and oil dressing, followed by red snapper baked in a clay pot in a tomato puree and onion sauce. Delightful.

On the walk back, I observed a moment between two other people. It almost made me feel like an emotional voyeur. They were both in their early 30's or late 20's, both professionals (at least dressed that way) and appeared to be taking their leave of each other as he continued down Madison and she entered an office building. He said goodbye and turned to leave and she turned away to go in. And it was this moment that I saw, this moment where she made a half pivot as her steps to the lobby slowed and she looked back at him with this expression on her face -- like she was willing him to look back at her -- this expression that was half resolve, half puzzle, all yearning, all speculative. I think he did not look back at her because she looked a second time, as if to give him another chance, and I think I saw a shadow of disappointment cross her face. I slowed, a tiny bit, somehow drawn to her hope, her neediness, her wanting, her orbit, and that's why I noticed this, but it did happen very quickly, objectively speaking. And then she went inside and I continued up Madison, full and content from my excellent lunch.

But I wondered, was this the beginning of a relationship or the end?

Posted by: Random Penseur at 01:58 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
Post contains 324 words, total size 2 kb.

My wife just wandered in late and I give her the recitation of the evening accomplishments and the Girl Child chimes in:

Me: The children have been bathed, teeth have been brushed, milk has been given . . .

GC: And noses have been picked!

Excellent addition. I note that the Girl Child refers to her nose, not mine.

Now, off to read a story.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 07:38 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
Post contains 79 words, total size 1 kb.

1 TMI.....TMI!!!! It did make me spew coffee on my keyboard, hilarious. Wonder if the IT dept will have the same take on it?

Posted by: Wicked H at May 24, 2005 10:58 AM (iqFar)

2 OMG...That's just brilliant!

Posted by: Jester at May 24, 2005 11:14 PM (yS8Mo)

3 If she ever says THAT again jus' remember to tap her nose with your finger and say "...and you picked a good one!"

Posted by: Tuning Spork at May 24, 2005 11:28 PM (pKu2s)

Hide Comments | Add Comment

Lacking inspiration after an entire weekend spent in the office, I give you my annotated Today in History post.

Today the following people were born:

*1707 Carolus, or Carl, Linnæus. I can't find a link about him I like, so I will content myself with a very brief description. He was a Swedish botanist, known as the "Father of Taxonomy" because he created the system by which, scientifically, plants and animals are named and organized.

*1795 Charles Barry, the architect of the Westminister Palace (Houses of Parliament in London). Barry also designed the Reform Club, in London, where I had the pleasure of drinking a bottle of Champagne (Reform Club Champagne, said so on the label) on the second floor overlooking the grand, interior courtyard. In the below picture, there are now tables along the railings. A very pleasant place to sit, drink, and converse.

The building is really quite magnificent. The Reform was also the place from where Jules Verne had Philleas Fogg begin his journey, Around the World in 80 Days.

*1848 Helmuth von Moltke, the German Army Chief of staff in World War I, until relieved for poor leadership. The war started under his watch.

*1883 Douglas Fairbanks, actor and husband of Mary Pickford. The first King of Hollywood, some say.

*1910 Artie Shaw, the "King of Swing", born Arthur Jacob Arshawsky in New York. Shaw was the iconic bandleader in the 1930's.

Shaw could scarcely have known that within a short time he would make a hit record of a song called Begin the Beguine, which he now jokingly refers to as "a nice little tune from one of Cole Porter's very few flop shows." Shortly before that he had hired Billie Holiday as his band vocalist (the first white band leader to employ a black female singer as a full-time member of his band), and within a year after the release of Beguine, the Artie Shaw Orchestra was earning as much as $60,000 weekly -- a figure that would nowadays amount to more than $600,000 a week!

By the way, Shaw gave all that up after Pearl Harbor when he signed up for the US Navy.

Deaths today, include:

*1498 Girolamo Savonarola was burned at the stake in Florence. He is a curious character. He was a fiery preacher who denounced the excesses of the Renaissance and who came to dominate Florence in 1494, banning gambling and taverns and making sodomy a capital offence. He created the "bonfires of the vanities" in which paintings and books were burned.

1881 Kit Carson "trapper, scout, Indian agent, soldier and authentic legend of the West".

*1906 Henrik Ibsen (link is to interesting essay on Norwegian Foreign Ministry website), Norwegian playwright, dies at 78. If you can read Norwegian, and even if you can't, I suppose, here is an interesting chronology of his life. And here is an excellent biographical sketch.

*1934 Bonnie Parker and Clyde Barrow were shot to death by police in Shreveport, LA. The FBI site makes for interesting reading on these bank robbers.

Today, some of the following things happened:

*1618 The Second Defenestration of Prague when the two Roman Catholic Governors, and their scribe, were tried, found guilty of violating the law granting freedom of religion to Protestants, and thrown from the window of Prague Castle into a pile of manure. This marked the beginning of the 30 Years War. "The Roman Catholic officials claimed that they survived because of the mercy of benevolent angels assisting the righteousness of the Catholic cause. The Protestants claimed the officials survived because they landed in horse manure." Source. I've been to Prague Castle, many years ago, and it is quite beautiful.

*1701 Captain William Kidd (great bio of his time in New York at link) was hung in London following his conviction for piracy and murder (more info here).

*1911 New York Public Library building at 5th Avenue dedicated by President Taft.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 10:10 AM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
Post contains 661 words, total size 5 kb.

1 Completely off topic: You speak Norwegian and English at home. Use French in your blog title and pen name . . . Hmmmm. I think I am a bit intimidated here! However, I do like your blog. You write interesting posts -- even when you are "slammed" . . . Regards --

Posted by: Dave at May 23, 2005 04:26 PM (c6xQA)

2 "Pile of manure" - they really knew how to punish in the old days. Of course that could never happen today....

Posted by: Simon at May 23, 2005 10:22 PM (FUPxT)

3 "Peer Gynt", by Edvard Grieg - One of my all-time favorite pieces of music. I knew that it was after an Ibsen play. But I have never read the play.

Posted by: M at May 28, 2005 10:29 AM (JQvok)

Hide Comments | Add Comment

I have been tagged by a couple of memes (is my nose bleeding?).

Eric got me on the this one:

List five things that people in your circle of friends or peer group are wild about, but you can't really understand the fuss over.

Ok, since I like Eric and I sort of think this one is interesting, I'll give it a shot.

First: Reality Television.

Reality television is not reality. I have seen very little of it and what I have seen is execrable. I don't really need that much crap in my life.

Second: Competitive Admission Pre-School

Ok, while maybe I do understand it, sort of, that there are a limited number of slots at good pre-schools in New York City (read: Manhattan) and every parent is convinced that his or her child will not get into Dalton if they don't go to Ms. Frobishers' Finishing School for the Pre-School Years, it's the hysteria part of this that I don't get. Schlepping your poor kid from interview to interview and test to test. For what? A pre-school where you get the chance to spend $12,000 a year for nose picking and finger painting? Please.

Third: College Savings.

Much of my peer group is consumed with the idea of college savings. We are more concerned at this point with retirement savings. As my wife points out to me, the kids can, if they have to, borrow money to go to college. No one will ever lend us money to retire. That said, we are putting money away for the kids, we're just not consumed with it.

Fourth: Golf.

I'm sure it's very nice and all, but have you ever been part of a golf conversation without wanting someone to come along and either shoot the people talking about golf or shoot you and you don't care anymore which it is?

Fifth: Crackberrys

Why do you want to be reachable from work all the time? Why is constant availability a virtue for most people? Why sit there and peck away, looking so terribly important, when all you're doing is exchanging bullshit with a friend? I don't get it. I don't have one and I don't want one.

END OF MEME ONE

START OF MEME TWO

Tinklebelle tagged me with a book meme:

1. Total number of books IÂ’ve owned

No idea. I can say that when we bought our last house, I had an additional 80 linear feet of shelf space put in and I've outgrown it in three years. We are voracious readers in my house.

2. The last book I bought.

I'm not 100% sure. There were two books. Right now, I'm not supposed to be buying any more books in light of the impending move. But the two I bought were:

Alexander Hamilton: A Life, by Willard Sterne Randall (currently a bargain selection on Amazon, I note); and,

Freakonomics : A Rogue Economist Explores the Hidden Side of Everything,
by Steven D. Levitt, Stephen J. Dubner.

3. The last book I read.

I am almost finished with Rubicon : The Last Years of the Roman Republic,
by Tom Holland. I would have finished it sooner, but I keep falling asleep on the train at night!

4. 5 Books that mean a lot to you.

Gee, I am not really sure. Some books have meant more to me at other times than now, for instance.

How about, and only as a partial list:

*Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child, by Marc Weissbluth (a must read for any new parent)

*Kim, by Rudyard Kipling (inspired a life long fascination with the whole region)

*The Three Musketeers, Dumas (love historical fiction)

*The Norton Anthology of Poetry (enough said)

*Breakout: The Chosin Reservoir Campaign, Korea 1950, by Martin Russ (the heroism of these brave men during a war we often forget about will take your breath away).

I think this list could go on and on, but I have to get some work done today.

5. Tag 5 people and request they fill this out on their journal.

Nope.

END OF MEME TWO

If you want to identify yourself and play along with either of these two memes, that would be great, but I'm not inclined to tag anyone else with any memes. Not really my thing. But thanks for asking me to play!

Posted by: Random Penseur at 10:36 AM | Comments (12) | Add Comment
Post contains 726 words, total size 5 kb.

1 I've never heard them called "crackberries". that's funny.

Posted by: GrammarQueen at May 20, 2005 12:15 PM (XzHwx)

2 Great idea RP. I think I will pass on the 2nd one to a book review discussioin board I paricipate in!!! Things I don't get that others do: 1. Star Wars 2. Sideways 3. Howard Stern 4. Don Imus 5. Secretary's week Books: 1.Total number of books I've owned? No idea. At least 1,000 2.Last book I bought? Tangled Loyalties:The Life and Time of Ilya Ehrenburg by Joshua Rubenstein 3.Last book(s) I've read: Stalin's Foly: The Tragic First Ten Days of the Eastern Front by Constantine Pleshakov and Epitaph for a Spy by Eric Ambler (I alternate fiction and non-faction) 4.Five books that mean a lot to you" Music of a Life, Andrei Makine Life and Fate: Vasily Grossman Fateless: Imre Kertesz Small Gods: Terry Pratchett (His entire Discworld series is a treasure) Huck Finn: Mark Twain

Posted by: ivan at May 20, 2005 07:10 PM (Nny4f)

3 Golf. I'm sure it's very nice and all, but have you ever been part of a golf conversation without wanting someone to come along and either shoot the people talking about golf or shoot you and you don't care anymore which it is? I've never understood dressing like a pimp and cussing all afternoon.

Posted by: Mark at May 20, 2005 10:02 PM (2Yps7)

4 RP, thank you for humoring me

Posted by: Emily/Tinklebelle at May 20, 2005 10:48 PM (CZWnO)

5 Hey, all thought all you JD types were supposed to be golf fanatics! Besides, I LIKE golf, sheesh. Although I do try not to bore people who don't golf. But when my boss and I get started ....... well, that pretty much means serious glazed looks from our admins.

Posted by: Eric at May 20, 2005 11:58 PM (ZUryZ)

6 Thanks for playing, Ivan! And long time no see. Glad to see you back around. I think it's interesting how few of those books I've ever heard of. I wasn't humoring you, Emily. I like to talk to about books! Eric, I suppose I really meant I can't understand taking up perfectly good oxygen to talk about golf. Playing it may be another matter. As for JD's and golf, my wife thinks I don't really need another expensive hobby. Out here in NY, joining a good golf club could set you back over 6 figures. Even if I had it to spend, I don't think I could bring myself to do it!

Posted by: RP at May 21, 2005 06:13 AM (X3Lfs)

7 Ditto on all in Meme 1! Well, with the exception of Crackberry's. That was truly very funny. Blackberry's or IM/Email on my PDA, are the only way for me to keep my cell charges down while receiving business information and updates from friends located all around the globe. I love my TREO! Meme 2: I found the Hamilton book interesting, I've not finished it yet as life has been busy as of late. I thought of buying Freakonomics, but since I have 2 shelves in my bookshelf of yet unread books I restrained myself.

Posted by: michele at May 21, 2005 09:07 AM (ht2RK)

8 Iwas in full agreement till I got to the crackberrys and then I started to wonder where I had been all my life. Re books. My motto has alweays been more bookspace not less books. That Twillight Zone with everyone dying and the one bookworm left...I can relate.

Posted by: Rachel Ann at May 23, 2005 11:04 AM (jZHsa)

9 There are some benefits to a crackberry type device. Mine takes photos, for instance. I could get away with a camera phone though and gain the same benefits. I'm with ya...resist the crackberries. They only lead to self-induced ADD.

Posted by: C at May 23, 2005 01:26 PM (Ds4xI)

10 RP, We have a fair amount of overlap (1, 4, and 5). And I agree with your answers to 2 and 3. If we didn't live in a good public school district, I would have included the competitive pre-schools, too. We have friends down in Dallas who are obsessed with getting their kids on the right private school "track." Ditto on the retirement versus college savings. Our current strategy is to save enough to provide our kids with the equivalent of tuition/books/small living stipend to the University of Texas for four years. If they go there, fine. If they go elsewhere or take longer than 4 years, they'll have to make up the difference.

Posted by: JohnL at May 23, 2005 05:44 PM (Hs4rn)

11 The other thing about college savings: I went to a fairly expensive college. My college roommate came from an upper middleclass background. He had a bank account specifically for college funds [birthday gifts from grandparents, etc.]. The college assumed that money [gathered over 18 years] represented the amount he could make in one summer, and gave him very little in aid.He reapplied the next year, after that account was gone, and did better.

Posted by: owlish at May 25, 2005 05:59 PM (sBj9U)

12 RP! I like it. Now give away all but your most precious! i have to say I like your answers to the first meme. The overall mindset reminds me of how I think. I am going to pick up that sleep book right away.

Posted by: dr pants at May 28, 2005 03:51 AM (PHXL1)

Hide Comments | Add Comment

The Girl Child hopped out of bed last night to keep her mother and me company as we brushed our teeth. These little visits are usually quite welcome. One of the things the Girl Child likes to do during her time with us is to jump up into our bed and hang out for awhile until we're done. But she's a nice girl and she always asks:

GC: Mamma? Can I go opp i sengen din? [mixing Norwegian and English]

[long pause as Mamma's mouth is filled with tooth brush and tooth paste]

[GC appears to grow a bit impatient with not getting an answer but seems to know that Mamma is not going to respond with a full mouth]

GC: [Tone: Bright and cheerful] Just nod your head yes, Mamma!

Which my wife did as I hid my face so the Girl Child did not see me laugh.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 09:34 AM | Comments (5) | Add Comment
Post contains 111 words, total size 1 kb.

1 Okay, I'll bite. What's "opp i sengen din" mean?!

Posted by: Tuning Spork at May 20, 2005 07:33 PM (PvNxm)

2 Hang out with you. Wild guess. Funny stuff as always with the GC

Posted by: Mark at May 20, 2005 09:39 PM (2Yps7)

3 My bad, guys, I thought it was clear from context otherwise would have translated -- sorry! It means -- up in your bed.

Posted by: RP at May 21, 2005 06:15 AM (X3Lfs)

4 Ya know, if you threw around more Norwegian on your blog, we could all learn it in no time!

Posted by: Mark at May 21, 2005 08:19 PM (2Yps7)

5 I understood it. At least Swedish and Norwegian intermingle well

Posted by: Helen at May 23, 2005 07:52 AM (8wm0s)

Hide Comments | Add Comment

I was reading the NY Times this morning on the train on the way into the City, not an unusual activity for me, and I was happily browsing through one of the weekend sections and skimmed an article on Montgomery, NY. The article was about how Montgomery is a good place for a weekend home. I am not, emphatically not, in the market for a weekend home but, having never heard of Montgomery, read the article anyway. The following sentence, appearing in the "cons" section of the article, practically jumped off the page at me:

The community lacks diversity; according to the 2000 United States Census, the village of Montgomery was more than 90 percent white.

According to Wikpedia, "Diversity is the presence of a wide range of variation in the qualities or attributes under discussion". I thought that was pretty well put actually.

Although, from the NY Times perspective, diversity as a word has bit the dust and no longer means anything close to that. In the new lexicon, diversity means non-white. Diversity, the word, has been reduced to a rather simple concept meaning any person or culture not white.

Pardon me while I retch or mourn, I'm not sure which. Either way, I think the Times was insulting.

Why? Well, it seems to me that the assumption implicit in the Times' use of the word diversity in this fashion is that the 90% white residents of Montgomery present a united and homogeneous front, allowing for no divergence of thought, experience, education, viewpoint, national origin, religion, social class or you name it, all the things that contribute to a rich and vibrant community tapestry. I bet if you picked five random Montgomery residents, they wouldn't necessarily agree on anything. Indeed, that's what makes a horse race.

Under the Times' use of the word, you can only have a horse race if the horses are all different colors. I cry foul.

Mind you, I don't really blame the Times for this (for once). I think that the Times is merely reflecting a broader cultural elite sense here. And so, another good word bites the dust.

Except for here, because I am not bending on this one. Diversity means more than race. At least, it ought to, anyway.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 09:27 AM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
Post contains 391 words, total size 2 kb.

It was raining this morning on me as I walked from the gym to the office. Big fat, slow, lazy drops, coming down so reluctantly that I could practically track their trajectory before they plopped on the sidewalk. I was without umbrella today and that was just fine. By the time I got to my building, I was a bit wet. I rode up in the elevator with an elderly African-American man and we had the following conversation:

Me: Good morning, how are you this morning?

Him: I'm fine, thank you. How are you?

Me: Wet, mostly.

Him: Well, that's not all bad, is it? I mean, when you wake up from a good dream, you're wet, right?

Me: Different kind of wet but I totally see your point.

*Sigh* I heart this City.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 08:51 AM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
Post contains 148 words, total size 1 kb.

I have been having some crappy days at work so I decided to cure my bad mood by throwing myself into my children and playing and having fun and keeping the Girl Child (4+ years) up late so she could watch some baseball and hang out with me. Incidentally, it worked pretty darn well, too. Actually, the whole night was nice.

My wife was late so that meant I had both kids all to myself. I made dinner for my wife and me and ended up eating with just the kids. The Boy Child (2+ years), according to the nanny, did not eat at all today. Well, he ate just fine for me. Cut up pineapple (which he calls "anna", from ananas in Norwegian) and which he insisted on putting into his mouth himself with the fork, sliced mango (which he shared with his sister), over 1/2 of a huge grilled knockwurst, and quite a few spoonfuls of my very, very spicy black beans (after each spoonful he reached for his sippy cup and then kind of gasped "mor" or more). Tough kid.

The Boy Child was shipped off to bed and we came back downstairs to clean up the kitchen. The Girl Child had aftens, which is Norwegian for a snack you have after dinner -- she had a little bit of melted jarlsberg on bread with oregano on it, one of my wife's favorites. And then we went into the living room to watch baseball and hang out.

Kids, I think, have no conception of honesty/dishonesty. Up to a certain age, they don't seperate fantasy from reality -- it all blends together for them. But when they do talk truth, when they do speak honestly, unfettered by any social conventions or constraints, you get entertaining conversations like the following:

GC: Yum. I just farted.

Me: Why did you say yum?

GC: Because my farts smell yummy.

Me: Why do you think they smell yummy.

GC: Because my poop smells yummy. [pause] Well, my poop doesn't always smell yummy. Sometimes, my poop smells really, really bad [head nodding hard for emphasis and said in a very earnest tone].

See what I mean? Still, so young and already so wise.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 08:50 AM | Comments (9) | Add Comment
Post contains 374 words, total size 2 kb.

As regular readers may have gleaned, I am early train type of guy. I take either the 5:26 or the 5:56 a.m. train into work every morning.

As an aside, I usually take the 5:56 train home. That led me to the starkly depressing realization that I exist in 12 hour periods defined by my trains. I don't know why I find that so depressing, but I do and I certainly cannot identify anything uplifting about this division. But, as I said, this was an aside and not the main point of this post.

No, the main point is to reflect on the weirdness that is the early train.

The early train is a different crowd from the rush hour / express train crowd. These early types are quieter, with one or two exceptions, and include a similar mix of people. There are the finance types, the people who trade for a living or work on foreign securities markets. In fact, one acquaintance asked me which bank I worked for. Then there are the critical function types and I include police officers and the like in this group. You often see them on this train along with NYC Police Academy cadets in their uniforms. Finally, there are the gym rats and I'm in this group. We're all either in our workout gear or clearly unshaven and on the way to the gym to spiff up for the day. These are just general observations and I'm sure that there are lots of different people taking the train who don't fall into these groups.

Then, there are the weirdos. I commute with at least three of them. I suppose, since I have no reason to think otherwise, that they are perfectly nice people but they have mannerisms that cause them to stand out from the herd. Of course, I have named them.

First, there's the Twitcher. Twitcher has something going on with her that causes her facial muscles to twitch and contract into a rictus of a teeth baring grin, except without the friendliness that the word grin connotes. She is in her mid to late 30's is my guess, slim, with short hair and favors blue jeans. Seems nice enough, but who knows. It requires a real effort to look away from the twitch on the platform.

Second, we have the Talker. The Talker is a tall woman, maybe in her 40's, a little thick in the body, looks like she may have played power forward for her college basketball team and still favors that kind of haircut. I call her the Talker not because she talks to me, no, that would be just fine. I have dubbed her the Talker because she appears to be talking to herself, sotto voce, in an impassioned way complete with anguished and sometimes exaggerated facial expressions and head shaking. She conducts arguments with herself and seems, from my vantage point, to be on the losing end of those arguments. I try not to stand too near to her out of a fear that I will be able to overhear the argument and might, against my will, be drawn into it.

Third, and finally, we come to my favorite. I call him Yoga Boy, or sometimes just Yoga. Yoga is probably in his late 50's. He is short, maybe about 5'3'', very thin, with graying hair, balding, and some sort of skin condition that causes his skin to dry out and flake. He is usually dressed in some sort of jeans / sweatshirt combination, carries a back pack with a "No Blood for Oil" and an anti-Bush pin on the shoulder strap. He does not sit on the train. He instead stands in the vestibule and appears to engage in some form of meditation. His eyes closed, standing away from the wall, his knees flexed, he contemplates some inner, more peaceful place, or so I imagine. Hence, Yoga Boy. He stalks up Park Avenue with me or near me almost every morning and appears to move with a barely contained rage. So much for the inner peace thing. His elbows jut out to the sides as he swings his arms and his back pack rides down low over his hips as if it was slightly too big for him. And he hates red lights. When he sees the light is about to go against him, he breaks into an odd floppy bird kind of run, with arms akimbo but keeping his center of gravity very low. I find myself cheering him on in his quest to make the light. “Go, Yoga, go!” Although we stand on the platform together in the morning and although we walk up Park more or less together, he has never acknowledged my existence. I have looked at him when he arrives on the platform so as to at least give him a friendly nod, but his gaze is resolutely fixed simultaneously both inward and outward across the platform. Either way, although we have stood next to each other for months, I clearly do not fall within the scope of his gaze. That’s actually kind of fine with me.

I do wonder if it annoys him when I chat with my friend, though, as we wait for the train together.

Welcome to my world on the 5:56. I am but a spectator on this one, most of the time.

I do wonder, only fleetingly, what my fellow passengers would write about me, given the opportunity.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 11:03 AM | Comments (14) | Add Comment
Post contains 928 words, total size 5 kb.

I am just totally slammed today. Running around, working with four other lawyers in my office, trying to get a pleading put together that will survive a motion to dismiss, a very technically complicated pleading in a very complicated case involving several different judicial fora. Still no time, therefore, to report back on Washington D.C., other than to say it was a great trip.

Played hookey this morning from work and accompanied the Girl Child to her "art show" at pre-school. That was great fun and I got to be the adoring dad and take pictures of her posing in front of her creations.

Then I went to work and went right back down the rabbit hole. C'est la vie.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 03:52 PM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
Post contains 126 words, total size 1 kb.

Go and watch the Norwegian peacekeepers/soldiers dancing to a US soldier version of the Beach Boys classic: The video link. I think it's kind of funny but I gather it is causing a strong reaction in Norway. My Norwegian sister in law, who sent it to me, thought it was funny, too.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 04:46 PM | Comments (6) | Add Comment
Post contains 62 words, total size 1 kb.

No time today to give the full update on the D.C. trip (it is now 2:15 and I have been flat out running since 8:30) but I did want to quickly memorialize the conversation I had last evening with the Girl Child (remember, only 4 years old) as we were preparing to go out for an after dinner family walk:

GC: Pappa, are you ready to go?

Me: Not quite. Just give me a second to check the score on the Yankees game.

GC: What, are you going to sit there all night?

Me: Yes. Exactly. I am going to sit here all night.

GC: Mamma! Is that [short pause] appropriate for Pappa to sit there all night?

Her mother opined that it wasn't and I was summarily evicted from the living room. On the plus side, it was a beautiful night for a walk.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 02:22 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
Post contains 153 words, total size 1 kb.

Yup.

*dropping stone down well of posts to hear a far away splashing noise*

Well, ain't going to get any better until next week. I was in Philly all day yesterday on meetings. Saw none of the fair city except the windowless conference room and the taxi to and from the train station. Today, after a whirlwind of activity, I am off to Washington D.C. where I am leading a small group of friends (about 15) on a fun filled tour of the City. I will report back on some of the more interesting details upon my return, but, it will involve a private tour of the Supreme Court.

So, gotta hustle outta here.

Speak to you soon!

Posted by: Random Penseur at 01:27 PM | Comments (10) | Add Comment
Post contains 130 words, total size 1 kb.

If you are reading this, chances are that you are not Guatemalan. Or, at least, that you did not spend your formative years in Guatemala. What do I mean by this? Simple. Guatemala has a huge literacy problem. We witnessed it first hand on the plane coming home. To give credit where credit is due, my wife picked up on it first and clued me in.

A substantial number of people boarding the plane to NY in Guatemala City could not read their boarding passes. The crew, knowing this, had to tell them where they were sitting by either leading the passengers to their seats, almost taking them by their hands, or by pointing to exactly which seat they had. One of the crew confirmed to my wife that a lot of people boarding in Guatemala could not read and needed the crew to fill out all of their immigration and customs forms. The crew did say that some of the passengers asked them to do it out of laziness and not because they couldn't read, but still. The crew came from El Salvador, by the way.

Can you imagine what that must be like? Navigating the rocks and shoals of modern life without being able to make sense of the world around you? Or, maybe you compensate, like where one sense gets stronger when another when gets weaker. Beats me. But to be deprived of reading poetry.

The literacy rates are very poor, according to the research I've done. Actually, one UNESCO graph is particularly interesting because it casts the information in the form of illiteracy percentages. If you click on the link, you will see that almost 4 out of every 10 Guatemalan women are illiterate and about 2.5 out of every 10 men are illiterate. Those numbers tower over all of the other countries UNESCO includes in their graph.

One aspect of the literacy problem fairly leaps off the page: the disparity between literacy rates for men and for women. This suggests that women have much more restricted access to formal education than the men do. It also suggests that women have it much tougher in general in Guatemalan society. Or, at least, maybe they do. I don't really know enough to fully draw that last conclusion. But is does suggest that, ipso facto, fewer opportunities exist for women as we in the developed world understand those opportunities.

No matter how you look at it, it's a total mess.

Still, I don't want to leave this topic with the implication that there is no hope. Since 1980, some 25 years ago, the rate of adult illiteracy has dropped from 47% of the population to 29.5%. That suggests hope, right?

Posted by: Random Penseur at 04:04 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
Post contains 468 words, total size 3 kb.

The Girl Child and I were standing at her grandparents' pool, looking at it, after we agreed to go swimming. Concerned by the possibility that the water was chilly, we were standing there, waiting for the other one to go first, to take the first toe step, then knee step, then tushie step until you hit the tummy step. She was wearing her little water wings and waiting to get in so I could throw her, and I mean throw her, in the air. While waiting, we had the following conversation:

Me: Do you want me to go get you the inflatible ring?

GC: The ring? That, I could do without.

She's been spending too much time with my father.

And while I remember, the Boy Child graced us with what might just pass for a sentence:

Opp, go, bil [yes, mostly he speaks Norwegian]

Thus telling my wife that he wanted to be picked up and he wanted to go out for a ride in the car. It appears he may be putting the whole language thing together. Which is nice.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 03:35 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
Post contains 189 words, total size 1 kb.

I am back from Guatemala, arriving home at a little after 1:00 this morning. I lack the coherence to give a full and reflective report, so, instead, I'm going to sort of sum up in a series of stand alone vignettes and random thoughts:

*They should just admit that the country is humid and that central air conditioning is helpful.

*I'm sure I've said this before, but Guatemala is an exciting, vibrant, lovely, dirty, sometimes scary place, filled with kind and gentle people who carry lots of guns, all the time, all over the place.

*Driving behind a pickup truck in which six National Policemen were sitting in the open bed of the truck, on the walls of the bed, was scary enough but when one of them started playing with his Uzi, I wanted to throw myself over the children and close my eyes. All we needed was a pothole. Big sigh of relief when they turned off the road.

*The National Zoo in Guatemala City is a friendly place and we were there on a day when the place was filled with children from outside the city. They were mostly indigenous peoples and we dressed, many of them, in traditional clothes. They were flat out fascinated by my blond haired blue eyes kids and spent a lot of time looking at them and talking about them. The Girl Child became uncomfortable with being stared at for so long and by so many. The Boy Child was oblivious. My mother in law explained that these children had probably never seen anyone who looked like my children.

*Marimba, when played for the locals and not the tourists, can be a lot of fun. It must have something to do with the vibe of the people listening and dancing to it.

*I know I've written about fruit in Guatemala before, but it is so damn good. We also had some other cool things:

pacaya: A vegetable, the initial blossom of a variety of date palm tree; has a slight bitter taste. Used in salads; deep fried in egg batter or served in a tomato based sauce. Most appreciated by Guatemalans and Salvadorians. Consumed year round in particular during Holy Week and November 1 (All Souls/Dia de los Difuntos).

and

Huiquil (which I am spelling wrong and which we had in a soup.

*More later on a couple of other topics from the trip.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 11:33 AM | Comments (6) | Add Comment
Post contains 408 words, total size 2 kb.

1 Welcome back and congrats a completing a safe trip. Hope ya had fun!

Posted by: Tuning Spork at May 09, 2005 10:06 PM (GLq2P)

2 I am glad to see you are back safely. I read your accounts with great interest and a little sadness. I miss that part of the world.

Posted by: Alex at May 10, 2005 02:59 AM (yIfpp)

3 My blonde neices and nephews went through something similar in Hong Kong, a little unsettling, esp when large groups of mainland tourists tried to pick them up to pose with for photos.

Posted by: Mia at May 10, 2005 03:15 AM (jdu1C)

4 Fascinating! Sounds like an amazing little excursion. The whole 'police truck' part would have terrified me as well. My world is so much different. I had a friend from Guatamala. He was very fiery. Did you see that is the people there? Did they appear to get easily worked up about things?

Posted by: dr Pants at May 10, 2005 03:16 AM (ZnZYY)

5 Hah! - Gotcha! Welcome back.

Posted by: Mark at May 10, 2005 10:44 AM (wdk9M)

6 Welcome back! Looking forward to some more Guatemala pictures.

Posted by: Jim at May 10, 2005 12:05 PM (tyQ8y)

Hide Comments | Add Comment

The newspaper headline this morning here in Guatemala City was stark: 50% of Guatemalan Children Are Chronically Malnourished. It came with a helpful photograph of three small children sitting by the side of the road eating some meager looking tortillas. The poverty in Guatemala is breathtaking, as I'm sure poverty is anywhere. But when you put that statistic to it, it becomes much smaller and more immediate, the scope of the poverty, that is. Poverty becomes a hungry child, it's really that simple.

The consequences, it seems to me, are much graver than simply a child without enough to eat, a child who goes to bed hungry. Chronic malnutrition will stunt brain growth and will make it easier for disease to grab ahold. The malnourished child today, assuming he lives, will be the burden to society later, unable to earn more than a subsistence wage, if that. This seems fairly obvious. Solve the hunger problem and you give society as a whole a fighting chance.

The problem is that I don't see it changing in the near future.

Pity the hungry children in Guatemala. They deserve at least that.

I feel totally helpless.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 05:09 PM | Comments (5) | Add Comment
Post contains 205 words, total size 1 kb.