Driving and equanimity

Yesterday, while driving through a residential area on my way to work, I came up behind a van that was traveling slowly, slightly under the speed limit. I wasn’t too perturbed and kept a respectful distance between my vehicle and the van. Soon thereafter, a large pickup truck roared up behind me and the driver must have found something interesting to read on my trunk, because he drove only a few feet behind it. I only had about half a block until the road morphed into a highway, so I puttered along and, at the highway, the van pulled into the right lane (still going quite slowly), I passed the van and turned in front of it, and the truck stayed in the left lane for a while, but eventually settled in behind me; this time at a polite distance.

When I took my exit, the pick-up truck followed: I reduced my speed because we were once again in a residential area. The truck pulled up until he was, once again, a few feet from my bumper. I pulled over, onto the wide shoulder, let the truck pass, and pulled back out behind it. The truck then slowed down to a crawl, as if daring me to pass. I maintained a respectful distance for several blocks, and the truck eventually turned left, and I continued straight. I was glad there hadn’t been a confrontation.

As I continued on my way, I tried to understand what could possibly be running through the truck driver’s mind: Was the driver incredibly impatient? Was I driving the same type of car as his sworn enemy? Was he just looking for a fight? I was preoccupied with the incident for a while, but soon forgot about it. Until I was on my way home…

On the way back home, on the same residential street where my trunk was first crowded by the pick-up truck, the orange car in front of me was tailgating, within a foot of the white car in front of it. The white car in front was being driven at close to the speed limit, but the orange car’s driver obviously wanted to travel much faster. The orange car’s driver continued to tailgate, honked several times, and eventually passed, almost colliding, head-on, with on-coming traffic.

After a few minutes, when my bloodstream’s adrenaline had decreased to a sane level, I put the incident behind me. Until I got stuck behind the a silver car turning left.

There were several opportunities for the driver of the silver car to turn; there were definitely several suitable breaks in the oncoming traffic flow, but the driver was obviously waiting for a gilded opportunity, which, I thought, may take several minutes. I couldn’t pass on the right: there was a constant flow of rush hour traffic, traveling quickly and efficiently. My blood pressure began to rise, my impatience ramped up, and I was about to yell something officious out my window…

…and then I remembered the pick-up truck and the orange car.

What exactly was my hurry? Why couldn’t I relax and wait patiently? Driving isn’t a task to be performed angrily. Surely, in due course, the traffic would cooperate with the dude in front of me. Perhaps he was a newish driver. Perhaps he wasn’t used to such high traffic volume. Perhaps he was simply exceedingly careful. Whatever the reason, it wouldn’t disappear with my anger. I imagined yelling and honking and, against his inclination, somehow convincing him to turn. And I further imagined this action causing an accident.

I calmed down; within thirty seconds there was a huge break in the traffic, the silver car in front turned left, and I was on my way. The rest of the trip home was fraught with minor inconveniences that I realized were inconsequential; they were things that happen and then dissipate into the cosmic ether.

.

.

.

 

Enlightened Society

Photo of Ani Pema Chödrön by Robin Holland

“Enlightened Society is not an idealized environment.

“It is an environment that actually accepts the imperfections of humanity and encourages you to open your heart and mind and work with other people and situations as they are.

Enlightened society is one in which, as you make friends with yourself, your communication with other people gets clearer, more direct, more honest.”

Pema Chödrön, No Place to Hide

.

.

.

.

.

.

 

Harvey

My daughter, Brynne, wanted to watch a movie last night, and I suggested an old classic: Harvey (1950), a favorite of mine.

The movie is based on the Pulitzer-winning play by Mary Chase.

James Stewart portrayed mild-mannered Elwood P. Dowd, who enjoys whisky and martinis and  has an invisible friend; a pooka (from Celtic mythology: a benign, but mischievous creature), who resembles a six-foot, three and a half-inch rabbit.

James Stewart was nominated for an Oscar for his performance, and Josephine Hull won the Best Supporting Actress Oscar for her portrayal of  Elwood’s Aunt, Veta Louise Simmons.

There is a wonderful message running through the movie, and my favorite line comes from Elwood P. Dowd:

“Years ago my mother used to say to me, she’d say, ‘In this world, Elwood, you must be’ – she always called me Elwood – ‘In this world, Elwood, you must be oh so smart or oh so pleasant.’ Well, for years I was smart. I recommend pleasant. You may quote me.”

I highly recommend this charming, lighthearted movie.

P.S.: Brynne loved it.

.

.

.

 

Cornelia Hahn Oberlander

Photo: Charles Birnbaum

I was listening to the radio on the way home from work the other day; there was a program  (on CBC: Ideas) about Cornelia Hahn Oberlander, Canada’s greatest Landscape Architect. Many of her  projects have been integral to the design of prestigious structures in Canada and the United States.

Ms. Oberlander was born in Muelheim-Ruhr Germany; but, in 1939, when she was eighteen, the pressures leading up to WW II forced her family to move to the United States. In 1947 she graduated from Harvard with a degree in landscape architecture. She began her career in Philadelphia, moved to Vermont, and finally, in 1953, she relocated to Vancouver with her husband and started her own small business. She developed a fascination for an art movement (led by Bertie Binning and Ned Pratt) that unified architecture and art, with a special interest in the relationship between urbanization and natural ecology.

Some of the many projects she worked on:

• the Robson Square Law Courts (Vancouver, 1983); a progenitor for other North American roof top garden projects
• Jim Everett Memorial Park (UBC, 1986)
• the Museum of Anthropology (UBC, 1976 & 1997): a must see museum if you’re ever in Vancouver!
• the Yellowknife Legislative Assembly Building (Yellowknife, Northwest Territories, 1994)
• C.K. Choi Building, for The Institute of Asian Research (UBC, 1995)
• Library Square’s rooftop garden (Vancouver, 2005)
• the Canadian Embassy in Berlin (2005)
• the National Gallery of Canada (Ottawa, Canada, 2006)
• the New York Times Building (2007)

.

Some of the awards she has received:

• the Royal Architectural Institute of Canada Allied Medal (1995)
• American Society of Landscape Architects’ ASLA medal
• The Order of Canada, Canada’s highest civilian honour
• The Sir Geoffrey Jellicoe Award, from the International Federation of Landscape Architects

.

For more information:

CBC Radio: Ideas

Cornelia Oberlander

Dexigner.com

.

.

.

 

HopScotch; Vancouver

“Too much of good whisky is barely enough”.  Mark Twain

.

I went to the HopScotch Grand Tasting Hall event in Vancouver last night: quite an adventure. There were over 250 samples of beer, scotch, spirits (vodka, bourbon, rum, et cetera), and food. My wife came along, probably to ensure I didn’t attempt to try all the samples available…

I was only interested in malt whisky and most of the familiar distilleries were there (Ardbeg, Aberlour, Balvenie, Benriach, Bruichladdich, Bunnahabhain, Cragganmore, Dalmore, Dalwhinnie, Glendronach, Glenfarclas, Glenfiddich, Glenkinchie, Glenlivet, Glenmorangie, Highland Park, Lagavulin, Laphroaig, Macallun, Oban, Springback,  Talasker, et cetera). Even though I planned to be well below the legal limit for driving, I never drive after drinking any amount of alcohol: we used the transit system to get there and back (SkyTrain and bus).

There was an incredible mass of people at the event, all well behaved (there were a few slightly  ‘wobbly’ individuals, but this was a tasting event, not a guzzling competition).

My initial goal was to sample five single-malt scotches, but I eventually decided to try a blended Indian whiskey and three single malt scotches: Amrut Fusion (the Indian blended whisky), Glenmorangie Nectar D’Or, Highland Park 18 Year Old, and Ardbeg Uigeadail. 

My tasting notes:

Glenmorangie Nectar D’Or.  A 15 YO scotch that is first matured for a minimum of 10 years in ex-bourbon casks, and then is finished in hand-selected Sauternes wine casks. Glenmorangie is a very popular distillery in Scotland.

Colour: Gold (of course)

Nose: Honey-wine, peaches, and orange/lime/citrus tones

Palate: full and deep; fruit-wine, citrus, sweet-vanilla.

Finish: long and smooth: warm honey, fruit.

$88 in B.C. Liquor Stores.

The influence from the Sauternes casks is delivered wonderfully: a sumptuous experience. I closed my eyes and felt like a decadent gentleman lounging in his private study enjoying a dram. A very satisfying sample to set the tone for the rest of the evening.

 

Highland Park 18 YO.

Color: Pale gold

Nose: Sherry and honey, sweet fruit, coffee, some smooth peat and campfire smoke, sea air, and delicate floral notes.

Palate: starts out quite dry and vanilla-oaky, but submits to its sherry-oak influence. Delicious sweet notes of honey, a hint of salt (reminiscent of sea air), some peat, and pleasant campfire smoke.

Finish: very smooth smoky peat, ending with a slight honey- fruitiness

$150 in B.C. Liquor Stores

This scotch is outside my price range (unless I discover a roll of bills in an old pair of pants), but it was a treat to have the opportunity to sample it.

 

Amrut Fusion: an Indian whisky that is a ‘fusion’ of Scottish peated malt (25%) and unpeated Indian malt (75%). The two malts are mashed and distilled apart, and then married in American oak barrels where the whisky is left to mature for three to five years. The hot climate in India is thought to drive whisky maturation quicker than that experienced in Scotland (some believe it matures more than twice as quickly). Interestingly, due to the heat, the ‘angel’s share’ (the amount lost to evaporation) can be as high as twelve percent.

Color: Amber

Nose: Strong: exotic sweets and spices, vanilla, subtle smoke.

Palate: Figs, spices, coffee, dark chocolate, a wisp of smoke. This whisky is a bit of a kick-in-the-pants (similar in tone to Nikka‘s from the barrel, but with a definite Indian flavour).

Finish: medium, citrus/orange.

$85 in B.C. Liquor Stores

An intriguing whiskey; quite different than my expectations.

 

Ardbeg Uigeadail. An Islay peated single malt that takes its name from Loch Uigeadail (Oog-a-dal), the source of the water used in the production of the whisky.

Colour: Deep amber

Nose: Complex: Peat, citrus, seashore

Palate: Salty, spicy, fruity; unbelievably intricate!

Finish: I imagined myself in the leather and smoke of a gentleman’s den, with the agreeable heat from the fire distributing the scents of salt, citrus and ginger.

A wonderful whisky; a bit salty for my tastes, but, given the opportunity to work past the salt through months of sampling a bottle, it might become a favourite; unfortunately, it’s outside my price-range, but it was an enjoyable experience! 

.

Slàinte mhath

.

.

.

 

 

 

An Ungulate Princess

Memory is an odd thing.

I was walking through Guildford Mall yesterday and stopped to look at the new Santa Claus display, which included a reindeer that lowered its head and folded its right leg, mechanically mimicking a bow: my mind rewound about fifteen years to a family holiday at a Bed & Breakfast on Hornby Island.

A magical moment happened on the way back home from Hornby [but a few other bits and pieces passed through my mind before I arrived at the moment…

As we shopped in the Artisan Village, my eldest daughter, Bailey, wanted to know where the Mall was. When I informed her that we were at the only place that could be considered a mall on the island the look on her face became an indelible memory.

While waiting for the ferry from Denman Island to Hornby, my youngest daughter, Brynne, found a smooth piece of graphite about the size and shape of a small loaf of bread and I found the skull of a small rodent. I still have the skull, but I have no idea where the chunk of graphite is (perhaps it is still under the seat of the car, traded in long ago).

On Hornby, we strolled along the seashore, admiring the splendour of the naturally sculpted sandstone beaches.

We visited many cottage-business pottery-shops; at one, the artist gave our daughters a bit of clay to sculpt with.

There was very little fresh water on the island and the B&B had a sign over the toilet: If it’s yellow, let it mellow; if it’s brown, flush it down.

The woman at the B&B told us about a possum that was in her garden: it frightened her and she hit it hard on the head with a large shovel. She thought it was dead and went to get her husband; however, when they came back it was gone].

As I said, it was on the way back home that the magical moment occurred (to get back to the mainland you have to take a small ferry from Hornby to Denman Island, another small ferry to Vancouver Island, and a large ferry from Vancouver Island — known to Lower Mainlander’s as The Island — to the mainland). It was twilight and, as I was driving along the country road that cuts through Denman, I saw something on the right side of the road: it was a small doe, so I stopped in case she was about to bound in front of the car. Then I noticed her fawn. The doe waited until the car came to a complete stop, then she gave me the most graceful bow I’ve ever witnessed, and then she and her fawn crossed the road.

I looked across to my wife, Catherine, and asked if she’d witnessed the same thing. She had. We drove in silence until we got to the next ferry terminal.

I’ll never forget the magic of that moment when the doe looked right at me, tucked her left leg under her chest and bowed low, until her nose almost touched the ground. She rose up with an air of majesty, flowed across the road with her fawn, and the two of them vanished into the brush on the other side.

..

.

For those interested, some tourism information:

Hornby Island’s Website

Denman Island’s Website

Vancouver Island’s Website

The Gulf Islands

.

.

.

 

Shine On You Crazy Diamond

My initiation to Pink Floyd was in 1971, the days when music could only be purchased on 12 inch ‘records,’  which are now called vinyl. I hear that ‘vinyl’ has made a bit of a comeback: go figure. In 1971 I was barely into my teenage years, trying to be cool, and managed to scrape together enough change to purchase a record. I walked down to the music store (I did a lot more walking in those days: it probably took me forty minutes to walk there). There was an album, Meddle (by …the progressive rock band Pink Floyd), displayed in a rack by the entrance. The cover looked cool (apparently it’s a representation of an ear underwater, gathering ‘ripples’ of sound), so I bought it, took it home, and listened to it in my bedroom (my parents couldn’t stand my musical taste, so I’d found a way to beg and borrow old stereo equipment; for example, a friend of my Dad’s gave me a set of woofers, tweeters and associated equipment, and I built speaker enclosures out of particle board: I wish I still had the speakers; they sounded fantastic). Man, I loved that album! Especially the song Echoes, a twenty-three minute opus that took up the entire side two of the record. I’d never heard anything like it. I backtracked through their catalogue and found many more songs that I enjoyed, but Meddle was the album that seemed the most cohesive and lyrical (although I could have done without the song Seamus, but nothing is perfect…).

My friends didn’t enjoy Meddle nearly as much as I did, but when The Dark Side of the Moon was released in 1973, almost everybody agreed that Pink Floyd was pretty darn cool. And I kept buying their albums, but stopped after The Wall.

The Wall was released in 1979 and many point to this album as Pink Floyd’s crowning achievement. It was a fine album, with some glimmers of genius (e.g.: Comfortably Numb), but it has always felt a little too over-produced to me, and I would rank The Dark Side of the Moon as the nadir of the band’s achievements; it was created at just the right time, and spoke to the soul of the youth of that moment. Still, it is another album — Wish You Were Here (1975) — that I think contains the best music that Pink Floyd ever created (and at least two band members — Richard Wright and David Gilmore — have named it as their favorite Floyd album). I dearly wanted to go to the Wish You Were Here concert  when it came to Vancouver, but I couldn’t afford the $10.75 ticket, which seemed a small fortune in those days.

Much of the content of Wish you Were Here was inspired by Syd Barrett, who’d had a mental breakdown and left the band in the late 60s. The album is also an outlet for the band’s criticism of the music business, particularly the songs Welcome to the Machine and Have a Cigar (my least favourite track on the album, especially after I heard a disco version on the radio late one night; many years ago, but the memory haunts me).

For me, the Floyd piece that has aged the best is Shine On You Crazy Diamond, a nine part composition that is split in half to bookend the other songs on Wish You Were Here (Parts I-V start the album, and Parts VI – IX end the album). Shine On was surely inspired by Syd Barrett, who even showed up one day in the recording studio; ironically, the band members didn’t recognize him at first; he had gained a lot of weight, and shaved his head and eyebrows. When he was finally recognized, his old friends had difficulty communicating with him and it was the last time any of them saw Syd.

Roger Keith ‘Syd‘ Barrett passed from this world in 2006

Shine On you Crazy Diamond is a hauntingly beautiful piece; some of the opening sounds were produced by rubbing wet fingers on the rims of wine glasses filled with differing levels of liquid; somehow this, together with the circumstances of the recording session with Sid Barrett, helps to create a meditative mood that pervades my being and remains long after the song is over.

.

.

Remember when you were young, you shone like the sun.

Shine on you crazy diamond.

Now there’s a look in your eyes, like black holes in the sky.

Shine on you crazy diamond.

You were caught in the crossfire of childhood and stardom

Blown on the steel breeze.

.

Come on you target for faraway laughter,

come on you stranger, you legend, you martyr, and shine!

You reached for the secret too soon, you cried for the moon

Shine on you crazy diamond.

Threatened by shadows at night, and exposed in the light.

Shine on you crazy diamond.

Well you wore out your welcome with random precision,

rode on the steel breeze.

.

Come on you raver, you seer of visions,

come on you painter, you piper, you prisoner, and shine!

 

Lyrics by Roger Waters

 

China Mountain Zhang, a book review

China Mountain Zhang (1992) depicts a 22^nd century, post-revolutionary America, which has become a Chinese Communist State after a Cleansing Winds Campaign.

The main protagonist, Zhang Zhong Shan (China Mountain Zhang), is a gay man living within a system that despises homosexuality — to the point of capital punishment for ‘guilty’ persons.

More than half the novel is concerned with Zhang, but his story is interspersed with chapters focusing on other characters that have a fleeting connection with Zhang. The stories not directly involving Zhang were interesting, but were not dovetailed seamlessly into the main narrative: I found the ‘other’ stories slightly intrusive.

Zhang struggles to find a peaceful place in society, as do the characters in the other chapters.

There are some intriguing ideas (e.g.: Organic Engineering (not bioengineering) and cyber-kite flying), and there are fascinating  settings that range from New York to Baffin Island, the Imperial City in China, and Mars.

China Mountain Zhang was an enjoyable read; it didn’t blow me away, but it was interesting enough to ensure that I’ll read more of Maureen F. McHugh’s works.

Recommended.

 

Radioactive Orchestra

I found the YouTube video below (recently demonstrated at TEDxGöteborg) and thought it was interesting enough to share.

Swedish scientists have created a musical instrument that uses a photon detector as a pulse generator (high energy particles yield a high note; low energy particles yield a low note). Some interesting science and theory is explained at the beginning (not too technical, easy for non-scientists to follow), but if you just want to hear the sound/music that is produced, fast forward to about the eleven minute mark of the video. Enjoy…

.

.

.

.

 

Howards End, a book review

Howards End — written by a man in the Edwardian  era — has a surprisingly feminine touch (an interesting aside: Zadie Smith’s novel On Beauty is loosely based on, and is an homage to, Howards End).

Howards End can be roughly divided into four basic character-groups:

The Blasts — Leonard and Jacky — who are socially marginalized due to their financial position in the lower strata of middle class. Leonard makes an attempt to raise his status with knowledge.

The Wilcox family, who epitomize the Capitalist industrialization of England, particularly the loutish Charles, and his father Henry, who has the great fortune to become acquainted with two remarkable women; something within Henry recognizes the depth of their souls, but he is unable to delve deeply enough to fully comprehend them. Henry is cast as the novel’s hero, but I found this characterization difficult to accept. The Wilcox women — with the notable exception of the spiritual mother-figure, Ruth Wilcox — are inconsequential, minor characters, floating through the novel as counter-examples to the Schlegel sisters.

The Schlegel sisters, who are the central characters (their younger brother, Theobald (‘ Tibby’), is an intellectual; emotionally detached from society): they are ‘modern’ Edwardian women, within the vanguard of emancipation. Helen is vivacious and impetuous, and Margaret — the novel’s heroine — is intelligent, imaginative and practical.

And then there is Howards End, which is a country home, but also a character. For the most part it rests gently along the border of the story, but it is the spiritual heart of the novel. The description of Howards End is based on E.M. Forster’s beloved childhood home, Rooks Nest.

Howards End is a humanistic novel, filled with sparkling writing and keen insights regarding the beauty, humor and tragedy of life.

Recommended.

.

.

.