At this time for relaying good cheer
I engage you to read what is here,
For in lieu of us meeting
I issue this greeting
To wish you the best for the year
Whatever your theological bent
I hope that these days are well spent
Be it candles or trees
Nazareth /Maccabees
Or something that’s quite differ—ent
No matter the route that you choose
Whether you revel in rock or like blues
May the joy of these days
All the laughter soirees
Leave a spirit we try hard not to lose.
Monday, December 14, 2009
Saturday, December 12, 2009
twisted sinews of thy heart
To this day I have trouble understanding poems. I think I read novels well, often getting what I believe are the authors' beneath-the-plot messages. Not with poems. It might take me an hour to read a short Emily Dickinson poem to get it, and even after an hour I still may not really have it.
I'll guess that most of us in high school or college had to read the William Blake poem Tyger, Tyger. The recent news about the world's most famous golfer has brought that poem up to my consciousness.
Last night while sweating off suet on an elliptical machine in a gym, I attempted to find a channel on the personal television set that was NOT discussing Tiger Woods. It took a while to find a Seinfeld rerun. Before I found it I paused for a moment and listened to some self proclaimed wizard say that what "Tiger did today" was the first step in his personal recovery. The pundit went on to talk about how "Tiger" has a series of problems. "We know he has a problem with sex" said the wizard. He went on to rant about the other problems this--on a first name basis with Tiger-- analyst had detected.
Before I switched to listening to the relatively cogent wisdom of George Costanza, I wondered what "Tiger" had done to indicate that he was on the path to recovery. I later found out that Tiger had given up golf for a while.
So, what do I think.
I think that it bothers me that so many people are putting in their two cents about this. Of course, this blog entry might make it seem as if I am a contributor, but my take is somewhat different. If Tiger Woods was a bachelor, would he have a sex problem? I really don't think so. It seems to me from watching advertisements, seeing what sells in film, and listening to conversations at parties and even in sports bars, that most people like sex. And seek it out. Doesn't seem as if Woods has a sex problem. Seems as if he has several solutions in fact. What he apparently has done is violated a pledge to be monogamous. What he has is a marital problem. To my understanding, such problems are not unique to Tiger/Elin. Since I am not a buddy, or shrink, or family member of Tiger Woods, this marital problem is none of my business--or anyone else's business except for his and his wife's. The outrage, the sanctimonious analysis, the paternal commentary from pontificating meretricious experts borders on voyeurism and is just inappropriate.
"And what shoulder, & what art,Could twist the sinews of thy heart?" is a line from Blake's Tyger, Tyger. That line I understand. And I know that the sinews of the heart are often twisted, not only by sexual infidelities. Personally I find misrepresentation, irresponsibility, personal manipulation, and inconsideration more reprehensible and in relationships of any sort, more likely to account for twisted sinews of the heart.
Tyger Tyger will burn bright again. No thanks to the hypocritical and venal wizards currently passing judgment. My two cents: Don't give up golf. You need it.
I'll guess that most of us in high school or college had to read the William Blake poem Tyger, Tyger. The recent news about the world's most famous golfer has brought that poem up to my consciousness.
Last night while sweating off suet on an elliptical machine in a gym, I attempted to find a channel on the personal television set that was NOT discussing Tiger Woods. It took a while to find a Seinfeld rerun. Before I found it I paused for a moment and listened to some self proclaimed wizard say that what "Tiger did today" was the first step in his personal recovery. The pundit went on to talk about how "Tiger" has a series of problems. "We know he has a problem with sex" said the wizard. He went on to rant about the other problems this--on a first name basis with Tiger-- analyst had detected.
Before I switched to listening to the relatively cogent wisdom of George Costanza, I wondered what "Tiger" had done to indicate that he was on the path to recovery. I later found out that Tiger had given up golf for a while.
So, what do I think.
I think that it bothers me that so many people are putting in their two cents about this. Of course, this blog entry might make it seem as if I am a contributor, but my take is somewhat different. If Tiger Woods was a bachelor, would he have a sex problem? I really don't think so. It seems to me from watching advertisements, seeing what sells in film, and listening to conversations at parties and even in sports bars, that most people like sex. And seek it out. Doesn't seem as if Woods has a sex problem. Seems as if he has several solutions in fact. What he apparently has done is violated a pledge to be monogamous. What he has is a marital problem. To my understanding, such problems are not unique to Tiger/Elin. Since I am not a buddy, or shrink, or family member of Tiger Woods, this marital problem is none of my business--or anyone else's business except for his and his wife's. The outrage, the sanctimonious analysis, the paternal commentary from pontificating meretricious experts borders on voyeurism and is just inappropriate.
"And what shoulder, & what art,Could twist the sinews of thy heart?" is a line from Blake's Tyger, Tyger. That line I understand. And I know that the sinews of the heart are often twisted, not only by sexual infidelities. Personally I find misrepresentation, irresponsibility, personal manipulation, and inconsideration more reprehensible and in relationships of any sort, more likely to account for twisted sinews of the heart.
Tyger Tyger will burn bright again. No thanks to the hypocritical and venal wizards currently passing judgment. My two cents: Don't give up golf. You need it.
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
cousin Alan
On Saturday I received an e-mail telling me that my cousin Alan had only a short time to live. Alan had come to Boston a few years ago for special treatment available here. For a while thereafter he was cancer free. Then we heard he would be going to Seattle for a bone marrow transplant. There were two unsuccessful transplants and now he is home.
Alan is six years my senior and the oldest among my 11 first cousins. One of my earlier recollections is of attending his bar mitzvah and being taken by the event. There he was standing on some sort of stage speaking a language that was very alien to me. He, as always, smiled through it. I liked the hors d'oeuvres I remember, but was sobered by the stunning message that a relative relayed telling me that soon I would be doing the same thing. This dulled the taste of the appetizer as I could not imagine speaking this foreign language in front of all these people. Alan did not seem fazed by it all. Smiling throughout.
That was, in fact, how he went through life--apparently unfazed and smiling. Even when he was taking high doses of radiation in Boston, and I asked him how he was doing, he would always say, "I'm fine. I'll be fine." Always with that smile.
Alan may have only been six years older, but he seemed a dozen years ahead in terms of maturity. He went to med school three years into college, became a physician, and soon established a successful orthopedic practice in South Florida. He became, without complaints, the family member to whom family went when they needed medical help. It did not matter how long it had been between social visits, pick up a phone and give him a call and he'd give you all the time you needed. If he didn't know the answer he had a friend who would.
Alan literally saved my life. I called him once when I could not walk. I was in Florida and something just had gone wrong. His office was filled. but he called me back within the hour and told me to stop by his office after 5. I did and he checked me out. Then he called in a friend. Then I was in the hospital. A friend did the surgery and Alan checked in on me every day. One day he noticed something and told me not to do the exercises that had been prescribed. He called another physician in, and an examination revealed that I had thrown a clot during surgery. Had I exercised as prescribed a tragedy could have occurred. Instead he saved my life, by being vigilant and loving, when he was working 14 hour days in the hospital.
You could never pick up a check when you were out with my cousin unless somehow you got to the waiter and slipped a credit card out before the bill hit the table. If you were in town, he invited you to dinner, to his home, to the Miami Heat game. I have never met anyone more generous.
And now, I read an e-mail that indicates that he has only days to live.
In sport, there is always another day, another down, another game, a redo. My cousin Alan is out of downs. It is tough to find something positive from this, but all of us who have experienced death to loved ones, can only take away from such things that the time we have is precious and using that time for joy and to make a meaningful impact is our gift to ourselves and our world.
Alan is six years my senior and the oldest among my 11 first cousins. One of my earlier recollections is of attending his bar mitzvah and being taken by the event. There he was standing on some sort of stage speaking a language that was very alien to me. He, as always, smiled through it. I liked the hors d'oeuvres I remember, but was sobered by the stunning message that a relative relayed telling me that soon I would be doing the same thing. This dulled the taste of the appetizer as I could not imagine speaking this foreign language in front of all these people. Alan did not seem fazed by it all. Smiling throughout.
That was, in fact, how he went through life--apparently unfazed and smiling. Even when he was taking high doses of radiation in Boston, and I asked him how he was doing, he would always say, "I'm fine. I'll be fine." Always with that smile.
Alan may have only been six years older, but he seemed a dozen years ahead in terms of maturity. He went to med school three years into college, became a physician, and soon established a successful orthopedic practice in South Florida. He became, without complaints, the family member to whom family went when they needed medical help. It did not matter how long it had been between social visits, pick up a phone and give him a call and he'd give you all the time you needed. If he didn't know the answer he had a friend who would.
Alan literally saved my life. I called him once when I could not walk. I was in Florida and something just had gone wrong. His office was filled. but he called me back within the hour and told me to stop by his office after 5. I did and he checked me out. Then he called in a friend. Then I was in the hospital. A friend did the surgery and Alan checked in on me every day. One day he noticed something and told me not to do the exercises that had been prescribed. He called another physician in, and an examination revealed that I had thrown a clot during surgery. Had I exercised as prescribed a tragedy could have occurred. Instead he saved my life, by being vigilant and loving, when he was working 14 hour days in the hospital.
You could never pick up a check when you were out with my cousin unless somehow you got to the waiter and slipped a credit card out before the bill hit the table. If you were in town, he invited you to dinner, to his home, to the Miami Heat game. I have never met anyone more generous.
And now, I read an e-mail that indicates that he has only days to live.
In sport, there is always another day, another down, another game, a redo. My cousin Alan is out of downs. It is tough to find something positive from this, but all of us who have experienced death to loved ones, can only take away from such things that the time we have is precious and using that time for joy and to make a meaningful impact is our gift to ourselves and our world.
Sunday, December 6, 2009
goats
Little things, seemingly inconsequential things, can change the course of our lives--dramatically. In life and in sport. Sport is a valuable metaphor for revealing this.
Yesterday was the best day for college football fans. As opposed to the spurious bowl championship series which is a meaningless alternative to a meaningful playoff system, yesterday several conferences held championship games. In college basketball these conference championships are the vestibule to the big dance. In college football these championships beget a series of bowl games and only one of these is meaningful.Nevertheless, the championship games are exciting because they can determine which teams are invited to the lone bowl game that is meaningful.
A goat is a term used in sports to refer to someone who, as opposed to a hero, blundered in a way to cost the team the game. In an early game yesterday, Pittsburgh went ahead 44-38 on a fourth quarter touchdown. However, the holder on the extra point attempt dropped the ball and there was no extra point. Cincinnati, Pittsburgh's opponent, then scored a last minute touchdown, executed the extra point and won 45-44. The holder, in that game, is said to wear the goat horns.
However, there never ever would have been a bigger goat than the quarterback for Texas in the late game. Miraculously, he was saved from going down in Texas lore as the goat of all time. Losing 12-10, he led his team into position to make a field goal that would win the game for Texas 13-12. With seven seconds left and a timeout, the quarterback rolled out and threw a pass out of bounds to kill the clock and allow the kicker to come in. Inexplicably, though, the quarterback, took the better part of forever to throw the ball out of bounds, and when he did it seemed as if the time in the game had expired. Nebraska players were out on the field happy to have won. A replay showed that there was one second remaining despite the knucklehead play of the quarterback. With one second left, the kicker came in and won the game.
Afterwards, the quarterback was saluted for his leadership. Had the referee ruled that time had expired, today would be a sad day indeed for the young man. Instead he likely has a bounce to his step, that the holder for Pittsburgh does not. A tiny thing is making this Sunday special or miserable. Same as tiny things are making this Sunday special or miserable for all of us.
Yesterday was the best day for college football fans. As opposed to the spurious bowl championship series which is a meaningless alternative to a meaningful playoff system, yesterday several conferences held championship games. In college basketball these conference championships are the vestibule to the big dance. In college football these championships beget a series of bowl games and only one of these is meaningful.Nevertheless, the championship games are exciting because they can determine which teams are invited to the lone bowl game that is meaningful.
A goat is a term used in sports to refer to someone who, as opposed to a hero, blundered in a way to cost the team the game. In an early game yesterday, Pittsburgh went ahead 44-38 on a fourth quarter touchdown. However, the holder on the extra point attempt dropped the ball and there was no extra point. Cincinnati, Pittsburgh's opponent, then scored a last minute touchdown, executed the extra point and won 45-44. The holder, in that game, is said to wear the goat horns.
However, there never ever would have been a bigger goat than the quarterback for Texas in the late game. Miraculously, he was saved from going down in Texas lore as the goat of all time. Losing 12-10, he led his team into position to make a field goal that would win the game for Texas 13-12. With seven seconds left and a timeout, the quarterback rolled out and threw a pass out of bounds to kill the clock and allow the kicker to come in. Inexplicably, though, the quarterback, took the better part of forever to throw the ball out of bounds, and when he did it seemed as if the time in the game had expired. Nebraska players were out on the field happy to have won. A replay showed that there was one second remaining despite the knucklehead play of the quarterback. With one second left, the kicker came in and won the game.
Afterwards, the quarterback was saluted for his leadership. Had the referee ruled that time had expired, today would be a sad day indeed for the young man. Instead he likely has a bounce to his step, that the holder for Pittsburgh does not. A tiny thing is making this Sunday special or miserable. Same as tiny things are making this Sunday special or miserable for all of us.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
sport, redemption, and chaos
On the Wednesday before Thanksgiving I watched my university, Northeastern, lose an overtime game to our cross town rival, Boston University. In the game one of our better players, a man who seems to work tirelessly and selflessly in each game, missed two consecutive free throws during regulation. He seemed to be able to put it behind him, but when the game ended in a tie after 40 minutes and then we lost in overtime, the missed foul shots had to linger and sting.
On the Saturday after Thanksgiving Northeastern was again in a tight game against Wright State University. Again the same player was at the foul line, this time with only 38 seconds left and Northeastern down by one. He had two shots and missed the first one. He made the second and tied the game, but this time as well he must have known that with another foul shot his team would have been in the lead.
The Wright State Coach put up five fingers signalling to his players that he wanted the push for the final shot to occur with five seconds remaining. This way, a missed shot would leave Northeastern no time to score and a made shot would result in victory. His player however did not do as instructed. With ten seconds left, not five, he moved to the hoop and shot. He missed. The tireless worker who had failed at the foul line got the rebound. There were only two seconds left. He took two dribbles and lofted a shot from the mid court line. When it went in he was mobbed by the bench as well as the mascot.
One of the great things about sports is that you often get a second chance, another shot to make things right.
And you have multiple chances as well to do things wrong. Little things, seemingly inconsequential things, can have significant effects. This is essentially the basis of chaos theory which I've written about in earlier blogs.
What is the big deal about going to shoot with ten seconds as opposed to five? The difference between revelling and walking away feeling like a stunned depressed loser.
What we do, even the little things, have consequences. In sport these consequences are relatively easy to detect. I'm not sure they are elsewhere. The difference between revelling and feeling depressed can be a function of apparently inconsequential behavior that is, in ways I can not figure out, somehow consequential.
On the Saturday after Thanksgiving Northeastern was again in a tight game against Wright State University. Again the same player was at the foul line, this time with only 38 seconds left and Northeastern down by one. He had two shots and missed the first one. He made the second and tied the game, but this time as well he must have known that with another foul shot his team would have been in the lead.
The Wright State Coach put up five fingers signalling to his players that he wanted the push for the final shot to occur with five seconds remaining. This way, a missed shot would leave Northeastern no time to score and a made shot would result in victory. His player however did not do as instructed. With ten seconds left, not five, he moved to the hoop and shot. He missed. The tireless worker who had failed at the foul line got the rebound. There were only two seconds left. He took two dribbles and lofted a shot from the mid court line. When it went in he was mobbed by the bench as well as the mascot.
One of the great things about sports is that you often get a second chance, another shot to make things right.
And you have multiple chances as well to do things wrong. Little things, seemingly inconsequential things, can have significant effects. This is essentially the basis of chaos theory which I've written about in earlier blogs.
What is the big deal about going to shoot with ten seconds as opposed to five? The difference between revelling and walking away feeling like a stunned depressed loser.
What we do, even the little things, have consequences. In sport these consequences are relatively easy to detect. I'm not sure they are elsewhere. The difference between revelling and feeling depressed can be a function of apparently inconsequential behavior that is, in ways I can not figure out, somehow consequential.
Friday, November 27, 2009
nourishment
Last night, feeling very well fed, I watched--drowsily--the Texas, Texas A&M annual thanksgiving day contest. Texas was favored by 21 points, but A&M did not get the memo. It was a very exciting contest that I stayed up to view despite periodically feeling as if--with all that turkey in me--I would not be able to watch in its entirety.
The final was Texas 49-A&M 39. The announcers reminded me during the contest that a tradition at A&M was for sweethearts to kiss after each A&M score. Thirty nine points can provide a good deal of smooching. At one point after an A&M touchdown a fellow went to kiss his date and she turned away. She apparently was waiting for the extra point. The camera returned to the couple after the extra point and she went to kiss him. Miffed, perhaps, at the earlier snub, the young man turned his cheek to the lips of his, perhaps erstwhile, sweetheart. Eventually they got down to business, but the scenes have remained in my head. Kissing to celebrate and the empty feeling of having a desire to engage and not being able to do so.
After a big meal my father would often say to my mother, the cook of the household, "Helen--if everyone had a meal like this, there would be no more wars." Dad was always wise, but I'll add something to the comment about the nourishment. Intimacy is important too. We'll all be gone soon enough. I figure that you want to make sure to find a way to hold the ones you love, and not turn your cheek away.
The final was Texas 49-A&M 39. The announcers reminded me during the contest that a tradition at A&M was for sweethearts to kiss after each A&M score. Thirty nine points can provide a good deal of smooching. At one point after an A&M touchdown a fellow went to kiss his date and she turned away. She apparently was waiting for the extra point. The camera returned to the couple after the extra point and she went to kiss him. Miffed, perhaps, at the earlier snub, the young man turned his cheek to the lips of his, perhaps erstwhile, sweetheart. Eventually they got down to business, but the scenes have remained in my head. Kissing to celebrate and the empty feeling of having a desire to engage and not being able to do so.
After a big meal my father would often say to my mother, the cook of the household, "Helen--if everyone had a meal like this, there would be no more wars." Dad was always wise, but I'll add something to the comment about the nourishment. Intimacy is important too. We'll all be gone soon enough. I figure that you want to make sure to find a way to hold the ones you love, and not turn your cheek away.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
bonanza?
The college basketball season has started, the college football season has a month to go, professional basketball and hockey are now in their second months of the season, and professional football is in its stretch run.
Tomorrow on Thanksgiving day many consumers of turkey will also be consuming televised sports. Three professional football games will be played sequentially beginning at noon eastern. Last night during my regular Thursday doubles match moved to Tuesday because of the holiday, a sub for one of our regular quartet commented that she does not enjoy Thanksgiving because of the incessant background of football noise that permeates her cousin's home. Another fellow in the locker room remarked that he wasn't going to his sister's this year because he can not stand fifty million kids running around his ankles and also does not like to witness the mesmerizing effects of the football games.
This notion is difficult for many who enjoy sports to get. Watching games while being with family seems like apple pie and ice cream to us/them, but it is probably a wise idea this Thanksgiving to consider the possibility that when you scream, "Will you check out that catch!" your cousin Louie might think you are a monomaniac.
Wise man, cousin Louie.
Tomorrow on Thanksgiving day many consumers of turkey will also be consuming televised sports. Three professional football games will be played sequentially beginning at noon eastern. Last night during my regular Thursday doubles match moved to Tuesday because of the holiday, a sub for one of our regular quartet commented that she does not enjoy Thanksgiving because of the incessant background of football noise that permeates her cousin's home. Another fellow in the locker room remarked that he wasn't going to his sister's this year because he can not stand fifty million kids running around his ankles and also does not like to witness the mesmerizing effects of the football games.
This notion is difficult for many who enjoy sports to get. Watching games while being with family seems like apple pie and ice cream to us/them, but it is probably a wise idea this Thanksgiving to consider the possibility that when you scream, "Will you check out that catch!" your cousin Louie might think you are a monomaniac.
Wise man, cousin Louie.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
