Brain Clouds: the Listening Post Blog

With respect to bowing

2009-11-19T09:03:00.002-05:00

I once told my zen teacher that prolonged periods of sitting meditation were making me a little antsy, a little twitchy. What should I do with this energy? She said I should bow more. "Try eight full prostrations," she said, "or sixteen. If that doesn't work, do one hundred and eight full prostrations." OK OK--at least she didn't hit me with a stick. But bowing is a big deal in Buddhist practice. One bows to the Buddha image upon entering the meditation hall, and to the person seated across, and finally to the cushion upon which one is about to sit. It's a matter of respect and recognition of like spirit.

Much has been made of President Obama's use of the bow when first being presented to the Saudi king and to the emperor of Japan. It has become a popular misconception that to bow is to express submission, rather than to express greeting and respect. President Washington didn't see it that way, but styles of manners have changed in the US--outside of square-dancing anyway.

In Japan, bowing can carry as much or as little nuance as its equivalent American gesture, the handshake. Respective depth and length of bows can be calculated to the millimeter and the microsecond in signaling relative status, just as how long and how strong a grip, how much eye contact, and who offers the hand first can be "read" in American body language. No one expects a foreigner to get a bow, or a handshake, just right, but the effort is taken for the deed. In fact, the president did both with the emperor, offering a hand to shake as he bowed. But regardless of nuance, refusing an offered hand or neglecting a bow altogether are equally serious signs of loutish behavior.

I think any president does well to bow to foreign dignitaries, when a guest in places where that is the customary respectful greeting. Further, in Japan, I would bow when introduced to shopkeepers and schoolteachers and streetcleaners, unless they forestalled it by offering a Western handshake instead. I'm not big on swapping cheek kisses, but in France, I would man-up and do my best. In Saudi Arabia, I would take care not to eat with my left hand, even if I was left-handed, or to show the soles of my shoes when sitting. These are considered unsavory for reasons that are now, thankfully, largely symbolic. And in Rio, I would not use the hand gesture that signals "OK." In Rio it signals--well, never mind what it signals. The point is: local manners are not universally understood. Respect (and disrespect) are.

Fadeout

2009-11-12T15:18:00.000-05:00

The pleasures of plenty are easy to appreciate: the roast pork, the apple pie a-la-mode, the symphony blazing forte, the lambent flower beds of June, the autumn leaves at their peak. But now we are moving into the fadeout of the year. The trees have dropped their "Joseph's coat" to trample underfoot and now stand stark in early twilight.

To make it through the long lean times of the North Country unshattered, it is necessary to learn the pleasures of paucity. If not the symphony, the lone flute. If not the pie, the first sip of hot green tea. If not the moan, the sigh. The last leaf to fall is the most precious.

The slim beech lets go
every leaf but this one.
What gold is in it?

Aftermath

2009-11-05T15:30:00.000-05:00

If you are like me, this week's special election has left you with a crippling political hangover. All voices sound a little shriller and you find yourself listening for the hidden meaning in everything--even the weather report, or a request to pass the salt. You bark when answering the phone, and don't stop to correct your typos when making stream of consciousness comments on the blogs of imagined foes. Or maybe that's just me. But the tone has been pretty angry, and anger takes its toll.

In saner times, I am fond of an anecdote from the Muslim tradition where a man seeks the advice of the Prophet on how to live a spiritual life. He says, "Don't be angry." Pressed for more advice, the Prophet repeats, "Don't be angry." In seeking to track this anecdote down online to its original source, I found various versions, but I also happened upon this further spiritual instruction:

Three ways to control your temper and anger:

Say ta'awuz (ask for protection from the devil)
Do wudu (ritual cleansing) or drink water
Lie down on the floor

I can attest to the effectiveness of number three. I can no longer see the monitor, or reach the keyboard.

Must-see TV

2009-10-29T14:38:00.001-04:00

You may think of this as a call for prayers. Tomorrow morning, Team NCPR will be in the WPBS-TV studios, going mano-a-mano with the News 10 Now crew as we battle for glory on a taping of Whiz Quiz, hosted by Glenn Gough. Forget the Yanks and Phillies--this is the must-see match-up. On deck for the honor of public radio: station manager Ellen Rocco, station engineer Radio Bob Sauter, assistant news director David Sommerstein, and yours truly. Up for News 10 Now--well, who cares really?

I must say, I look forward with some trepidation. My last TV appearance was with Glenn's old colleague from his WWNY days, on Dan "Danny Bee" Burgess' Saturday morning cartoon show, 50 years ago. There's a reason we're in radio. While my boss Ellen is, of course, radiant and youthful, and David could be considered cute in an Eddie Munster kind of way, Radio Bob resembles the current Archbishop of Canterbury following a powerful psychotic episode, and I look like someone who may have a bomb in his shoe, or an appetite for "braaiinss." We'll just have to see. I'll be having fish for dinner--it's brain food.

Best year ever

2009-10-22T17:46:00.000-04:00

Thanks to everyone who has been calling and writing this week in support of NCPR, and particularly to those who re-upped or became new members during String Fever this afternoon, when through a semi-annual lapse of judgment, they put the over-caffeinated web guy in front of an open microphone. This how we get it done: with a bluegrass band answering the phones, special padded kneelers in the pitch room, and the enthusiastic encouragement of all the folks you don't hear on the radio every day, as well as those you do.
It takes a lot of different skills to float this boat, and your support floats a team that excels in every way, recognized throughout public broadcasting not only for great radio, but for great membership services, a premier underwriting program, innovations in major giving and special projects and new media--in general, for getting a bigger bang for smaller bucks than anyone else in the business. You make this all possible. We're well on the way, but don't stop now. We still have about $80,000 to raise between now and Saturday at 8 pm to make our goal. The real goal--same as ever--to make next year our best year of radio ever.

Kindness of strangers

2009-10-15T15:10:00.001-04:00

All of us who work in public radio, and in all sorts of public service not-for-profits, can declare along with Blanche DuBois in A Streetcar Named Desire, "'I have always depended on the kindness of strangers." We aren't quite the lilies of the field who "toil not, neither do they spin;" we toil a lot. But for our raiment (fine or otherwise) we have always been in the faith business. Faith in the value of our efforts, and faith that the community will provide for its support.

It's come time once again (starting Monday) to put that faith to test, as we do each year in our fall fundraiser. It would be easy to view this regular exercise as a burden, both in the making and in the hearing, but the longer I work in public radio, the more I see it as an opportunity. We get to see our faith born out, year after year, in a way that no other endeavor provides. There is no compulsion, there is no exchange regulated by "the invisible hand of the market," there is only the giving and receiving of gifts. And for the giver, there is a rare opportunity to value something based on one's own experience and circumstance, not on a bar code readout.

I am not among those who want to change the business model of public broadcasting to something more "scientific" and "predictable." I predict that we'll do just fine. You just have to have a little faith.

Invaders

2009-10-08T15:27:00.001-04:00

I was struck by today's Photo of the Day by Stuart Delman of a bizarre tree fungus along the Pilot Knob Mountain trail near Lake George. It looks like a coral learned to climb a tree, or like some horror movie alien about to leap off onto a screaming face. It's nothing I've seen in my local woods walks, and it gets me to thinking about what else I don't see: chestnuts, elms, healthy beech, or much of anything living that's older than me.

Lovely as the North Country is this time of year, it's also true that it is not what it once was, and never will be again. Aliens have been at work, though not the kind you see in movies. The chestnuts were mostly gone before I was born, fallen to an invasive import, though I witnessed the recent decline and death of one of the last survivors on the St. Lawrence University campus. The elms went when I was a child. The beeches around my house are all on the way out due to scale and insect predation. Pine, spruce and maple all contend with their own ills, and the ash blight moves closer each season.

All pests brought in by human activity. We are also an invasive species in the North Country. Just try surviving a winter naked outdoors if you believe otherwise. And we had at the forests with the rabid greed of Dutch elm beetles, cutting in less than a century virtually 100% of the forest, that had developed undisturbed since the retreat of the glaciers 10,000 years ago. Second-growth forest and old-growth forest are apples and oranges. It will take a few more centuries before the Forever Wild lands begin to resemble a climax ecosystem.

The price of progress is not only steep, it is ruinous. We have smashed the watch so we could play with the gears. What'll we tell Mom when she gets home?

Partisan feelings

2009-10-01T15:59:00.001-04:00

My brother was in town last weekend, so we took a leaf-viewing drive up into the mountains, first walking the Boreal Life Trail at the Paul Smiths VIC, then meandering up above Lake Placid on John Brown's Road. The day was sunny and cool, and the views all one could hope for, up behind the ski jumps looking east toward the Cascade Pass. As I had never visited the John Brown Farm, I took the chance to stop in for a moment.

The bearded abolitionist of my high school civics book (in life-size bronze) greeted me by the entryway--one arm sheltering an African American child, and looking out over the many-colored hills. His eyes hold a terrible purpose; you can see in them the bloody partisan night raids of "Bleeding Kansas," the armed insurrectionist, captured and brought to trial for treason by then US Army Colonel Robert E. Lee at Harpers Ferry.

Brown inspires in me very mixed feelings. One must admire those who are willing to give their life in a cause. But the willingness to take life for a cause? That gives me pause. Particularly at a time when political temperatures are rising to a boil.

Brian Mann, in the In Box blog, has been tracking some of the hotter end of politics, noting a column this week by John L. Perry, suggesting that a military coup may be the only way to preserve the nation. And in reply to my Listening Post entry about the "American character," an old friend maintained that "As an issue, abortion is the slavery of the 21st century." Even shaving a few points off for hyperbole, when I look at the statue of John Brown, and remember the legacy of slaughter and ruin it took to resolve the issue of slavery, I have to hope my friend is wrong about that.

Outside the bubble

2009-09-24T15:46:00.003-04:00

In the days when most of the traffic to ncpr.org came from our core radio audience, the conversation on the site was remarkably quiet, usually civil, and frankly--kind of thin. It must be some Norwegian bachelor farmer-shy folk kind of thing. But we have been getting our stories out beyond our website for some time now, into a more general audience via syndication on other news and community sites. Of the top five stories in the last 30 days, all have been heavily driven by traffic from outside sources, most notably from North Country Now, the online companion to the weekly paper North Country This Week based in Potsdam, and newzjunky, an online-only news aggregation site based in Watertown.

This is good. One of our top goals is to build the public media audience by getting our work in front of new eyes and ears. And it is also illuminating. Outside the bubble of public radio's "usual suspects," the North Country is much more angry and divided. Following the comment threads on the syndicated stories, all the fissures that divide North Country neighbors are writ plain: poor vs. affluent, born-here vs came-here, village vs back road, upstate vs downstate, private sector vs public, town vs gown.

When we think of "hot button" issues in the media, we tend to think big: climate change, status of marriage, financial meltdown, war and peace. It is a useful corrective to note that while all our reporting on climate change issues over the years has brought in a handful of comments, our recent story on the coming ban on open trash burning has brought in 15 pages of comments over two days. Carbon re-uptake hardware, we don't got--burn barrels we do. The collapse of international financial institutions seems far away, while the woes of Hacketts play out just down the road. While the tone of the online conversation is often regrettable, the cooler view would do well to take into account the "hot." To paraphrase Wendell Berry, the neighbors we're supposed to love are the one's we've actually got.

Feeding the debate

2009-09-17T11:52:00.000-04:00

My wife and I have pieces of our kitchen spread all over kingdom come from cooking for crowds. I just got back from a lunch-hour excursion to collect a crock-pot left behind at a church college supper, in order to make it available for this week's Reachout training dinner. Having the usual web geek's social graces and leadership qualities, feeding folks is my way of contributing to the general welfare. People will pretty much ignore you while you flip things on the grill or load the dishwasher, and you rarely have that nagging worry afterward about whether you have done the right thing. After all, everybody's gotta eat, and most people are glad to do so.

Having witnessed the meltdown of basic civility at this summer's healthcare town hall meetings, I have a modest proposal for political circuit riders--town hall potlucks. Of course the town hall meeting attendees were grumpy--they'd been standing in line, there weren't enough chairs inside for everyone. Their feet were sore, and they were hungry. Besides, you can carry a hot crock-pot, or you can carry a sign with a swastika and a hammer & sickle, but you can't carry both. Inside the hall, instead of presiding from behind a lectern, the speaker should preside over the serving line, perhaps behind a mound of fried chicken. People are unlikely to scream abuse in your face if they think you might use your tongs to snag that chicken breast back off their plate, and the pressure from hungry folks waiting to fill their plates will keep conversation brief and to the point.

After everyone has had a plate or two, and a chance to rest their feet, then you can make your remarks and take questions. Full-bellied folks are more agreeable and less excitable. They may be inclined to nap over their dessert plates. And yelling just upsets the digestion.

In character

2009-09-10T15:07:00.001-04:00

There are certain phrases that jump out from the background noise of contemporary debate. One phrase that jumped out for me was from President Obama's healthcare speech last night. He quoted a letter by Ted Kennedy delivered posthumously to the White House, in which the late senator used the phrase "the character of our country." The president characterized that character thus:

"One of the unique and wonderful things about America has always been our self-reliance, our rugged individualism, our fierce defense of freedom and our healthy skepticism of government." Later on he qualifies that with: "That large-heartedness, that concern and regard for the plight of others… too, is part of the American character: our ability to stand in other people's shoes; a recognition that we are all in this together…."

Our national character then, has strains that are both contrarian and contradictory, as might be expected when applying generalizations to the multitude. There are so many "on the other hands" to our national character, that we might need to borrow many-armed Kali from India to describe it fully.

Foreign detractors have their own list of American qualities. In World War II Britain it was lamented that Americans were "over-paid, over-fed, over-sexed, and over here." Others might think us friendly, spontaneous and inventive, and at the same time chide us for being credulous, arrogant and disrespectful. Domestic detractors on the right might decry America as Godless, while those on the left declare it heartless. Those in the middle might add "intemperate." Everyone seems to agree that there is an American character, we just can't agree on what it is.

But it's worth talking about--because who we think we are determines, in large part, what we think we should do. Use the comment link below to characterize your views on the American character.

Laboring

2009-09-03T15:00:00.000-04:00

I have labored full- or part-time pretty much continuously since I was 14 years old. Over the decades I have worked for under-the-table cash mowing lawns, shoveling coal and at very odd jobs, such as funk band roadie. I have worked on commission, delivering newspapers and pizzas. I worked for peanuts and tips in a variety of food service operations. And as a small businessman and employer, proprietor of a commercial print shop. And as a union employee of the state, managing a college print shop. And as a solo free-lance, doing publication and web design. And as a non-union employee, working in the online-mines here at North Country Public Radio. Except for military service and indentured servitude, I have worked under just about all the available conditions of employment.

Though I have only had Labor Day off a handful of times over the years, I appreciate it when it rolls around on the calendar. It is increasingly popular these days to minimize the contributions of the labor movement to American life. Union membership is at an historic low in terms of percentage of workers enrolled, and labor's political influence is correspondingly on the wane, even within the once "party of the working man," the Democrats. But the list of accomplishments is too long to ignore: the weekend, the forty-hour work week, pension benefits, workman's compensation, widespread health insurance, workplace safety regulations, child labor laws, the minimum wage, and on and on. The post-World War II heyday of the labor movement saw the creation of the mass middle-class, and the smallest gap in our history between rich and poor.

Despite its waning influence today, anyone who works under any circumstances is the beneficiary of the more than century-long struggle of organized labor. It defined our expectations for the good life, and created a benchmark for the American standard of living. Any working person who aspires to own a home and educate a family and enjoy the occasional vacation, or who looks forward to a secure retirement, is dreaming their dream. And without their long struggle, those aspirations would be nothing more than a dream for the vast majority. So, happy Labor Day this Monday. Hope you get a chance to put your feet up. Me--I'll be at my desk as usual.

Consolation prize

2009-08-27T15:37:00.000-04:00

It seems like it was just a few weeks ago that we packed up the down comforter with the flannel sheets. But out it came again last night as we closed the windows to keep out the near frosty night air. And it's frost for real tonight for some of you who live up in the nose-bleed seats of the Adirondacks. So cover up the tomatoes, if late blight has left you any.

Last I checked, it was still August. The summer has been a shambles--chilly, wet, ungenerous with sunshine. And as always, way too short. I'd file a grievance if I could identify the guilty party. If insanity is trying the same thing over and over, but expecting different results, what does that say of our expectations of the weather? This is cruel country for an optimist. But it's also too dismal too often to always have a grump on about it. We are left to the consolation of palliative measures--chocolate for instance. Hot chocolate. Hmmmm.

Interesting times

2009-08-20T15:19:00.001-04:00

Last year was the fortieth anniversary of NCPR, among many other notable events, but it's hard to beat 1969 for portentous happenings. The moon landing on July 16 sticks in most minds. Less well-known is that on July 17, The New York Times publicly retracted its 1920 article ridiculing rocket pioneer Robert Goddard for asserting the possibility of spaceflight. Close behind Apollo 11 comes Woodstock, which beamed down onto Max Yasgur's farm in Bethel NY, forty years ago this week. Also in 1969, on January 30, the last public concert of The Beatles was held on the roof of Apple Records, until broken up by the police.

Nixon was inaugurated January 20; on March 13, the secret bombing of Cambodia began. On February 20, the Boeing 747 was test-flown, and on March 2, the Concorde. On June 2, John and Yoko began a "bed-in" for world peace in Montreal. On June 28, the Stonewall Riots launched the modern gay rights movement. On August 8 (a week before Woodstock), members of the Manson cult murdered Sharon Tate and friends.

The ATM machine was born September 2 and the last Looney Toon cartoon was released September 20. Monty Python first aired October 5, and on October 29, the first message was sent via ARPANET, the forerunner of the Internet. Sesame Street premiered on November 10; the first Wendy's opened November 15. On December 6, the disastrous Altamont Free Concert formed the other bookend to Woodstock. And sometime in 1969, AIDS is thought to have first come to the US via Haiti.

If you're too young to remember 1969, the benediction/curse "May you live in interesting times" may not be fully appreciated. But then again, 2009 is not without its "features of interest." Check back in 40 years.

Woodstock: Back to the Garden

2009-08-17T12:10:00.003-04:00

The Woodstock Music Festival ended forty years ago today. In the years since, neither the Apocalyse nor the Harmonic Convergence has come to pass, but the culture wars are still alive and well. What did it all mean? Were you there? Share your stories of what it was like in a comment below. Radio Bob will feature your replies on the Radio Bob Show, starting 3 pm Wednesday.

Do you still have a pair of mud-encrusted jeans preserved in the attic? Send your photos from the festival or of other memorabilia to dale@ncpr.org. We'll attach them along with your remembrances to this post.

A fine romance

2009-08-13T14:30:00.000-04:00

My plan for this Listening Post was to gently encourage you all to make a final push to get us to our two-day fundraiser goal of $30,000. Little did I know that you would blow past that goal in the first hours of day two, putting us over the top before the end of The Eight O'Clock Hour. Simply amazing. I had my jaw well oiled, and my pen loaded with cajolery. Now I am reduced to cribbing dialog from romance novel heroines: "No--no--don't stop!"

Why not? Because of the other number we track--new members--which is unprecedented. As of this writing, we are up to 136 new members in less than two days. This may not look huge, but it is when you consider the math: 90,000 households in the listening area, 30,000 weekly listeners, and a member base around 4,500 who make it all possible. Broadening our member base is the most important task we can accomplish to insure the continued health of the station. A few percent increase means a few percent more support every year for many years to come. So, to return to our heroine--"More! More members! Yes, yes, YES!"

Some assembly required

2009-07-30T15:55:00.000-04:00

It's one of those paradoxes. The virtual world gets more and more tidy and compact--my whole music library would fit on an iPod; everything I've ever written would fit into a corner of a thumb drive; a Kindle can hold every book I've ever read. But my real world becomes more and more a mess. No really--think post-apocalypse Bartertown/Thunderdome mess, think Neanderthal midden heap mess. Think boys' dorm room closet mess. I walk in shame.

My dark wood, plate glass and brushed aluminum desk, which once looked like something trendy out of CSI Miami, is now completely invisible under undifferentiated drifts of mail, memos, printouts, poetry chapbooks, CDs, litter from munchies, and something unrecognizable, but with a familiar smell. In addition, it holds two monitors, two speakers, one phone, an LP digital turntable, a scanner, a microphone, a headphone set, a digital camera, a semi-functioning mini-disk player, a flash recorder, a stereo remote, at least one cassette tape, one floppy disk, two mini-disks, and a zip disk in a pear tree. Also, a hand-thown lidded jar containing a hand-tooled leather change purse containing three Mercury dimes (for casting the I Ching), a hammered Chinese brass box with Imperial dragons, topped by a small cast image of the Bodhisatva of Compassion, a tube containing an unknown but popular Japanese condiment, a machine-tooled pen and holder in the shape of a '50s sci-fi rocket ship, a set of itty-bitty screwdrivers, a stapler and a Sharpie.

And that's just the desk. Just to hit the high points, seven of the dozen computers in the room work. There is a full shelf of outdated manuals for outdated software, a nice selection of early 20th century illustrated books, a 1929 Atwater Kent radio transmitter, an Edison wax cylinder redording, a horn-style speaker and a condensor mike that weighs 20 pounds. Along with several rat's nests of cables for connecting devices I no longer own to devices that no longer work. I'm hoping to jerry-rig a shambolic automaton out of the spare parts that can write the Listening Post for me, leaving me some spare time to tidy up, but I can't find the assembly manual anywhere.

Big v. local

2009-07-23T09:33:00.001-04:00

The Rogers Cable decision to displace the Watertown public TV station WPBS from its Ottawa line-up and to replace it with a Detroit PBS station is a cautionary tale on the threat to localism posed by an increasingly wired world, and a media environment dominated by "pipeline" owners who have little committment to relevant local service.

WPBS has a decades-long relationship with its Ottawa audience, more than 1600 of whom are contributing station members. Ottawa businesses are well-represented in the station's underwriting lineup, and programming at the station is formulated with a Canadian audience in mind. Ironically, WPBS has shown a level of respect for Canadian audience that could serve as model for all US border broadcasters. Canadians have long complained of arrogant self-centeredness in US media, which treats the nation (to quote Jon Stewart), as "that country we keep in the attic."

The same players that dominate North American cable TV also dominate broadband internet, and have been lobbying vigorously for a two-tier Internet to ration bandwidth--giving priority to their own media properties and those of their contractors, over media produced elsewhere. HD reruns of Gilligan's Island"--fast lane; NCPR broadcast stream--slow lane.

One would think that the new environment offering thousands of audio and video channels would usher in a Golden Age for localized niche content providers. One would think wrong. So far anyway.

Memory v. history

2009-07-16T16:01:00.001-04:00

We're fortunate, in these hard economic times, to have with us many people whose life experience extends back to the Great Depression. There is a crucial difference between memory and history. History tends to repeat itself, not because we are incapable of learning from the past, but because the job of learning is much harder when it must come from the dry pages of recorded events. Learning from the people who have "been there and done that" works a lot better. For example, to understand the prevailing economic theories and conditions that led to the collapse of the world economy 80 years ago, you might turn to history. To learn how to eat cheap while patching together a living, a living memory is what you need.

This summer, NCPR is putting modern North Country teens together with people who were teens during the Depression in a project called Common Wealth, Common Wisdom. Working together, teens and elders will pool their experiences of hard times, using audio, video, pictures and text, sharing the results with the NCPR and audience and the world through broadcast, webcast and social media. We welcome back former NCPR reporter and founding All Before Five host, Gregory Warner, who ramrods the project along with radio producer Laura Starecheski, now a professor at the City University of New York. Please check out the project on the NCPR website.

Supersize

2009-07-09T12:09:00.002-04:00

The fiftieth anniversary of the St. Lawrence Seaway provides an opportunity to reflect on the respective costs and benefits of thinking big. As a cooperative human endeavor, the Seaway ranks up with the pyramids, the Great Wall of China, or Machu Picchu. And it required a certain unstopability of purpose to accomplish such a task--a ruthless warlord, a demigod pharoah, or in the case of the Seaway, that creative/destructive genius Robert Moses who, in addition to his redrawing of the map of the North Country, invented the modern metropolis and its suburbs by mercilessly carving up the network of New York City neighborhoods.

One can't imagine the people of New York and Ontario ceding 64 square miles to be sunk for the bass, were it put to a referendum. To lose not only your home, but your town, is not a result to be had by local democratic process. Fifty years on, the feelings of the displaced are still raw, and yet the benefits are real as well: cheap power, new manufacturing, the opening of the Midwest to ocean trade, recreation and tourism destinations. And the cost, too, still rolls in--lost habitat, invasive species, erosion and water pollution.

At a time when we are facing big problems in the economy and the environment, thinking big is again in vogue. Whether small or big, the consequences will always include loss as well as gain. When you think big, they are just bigger.

Starting gun

2009-07-02T15:18:00.002-04:00

Independence Day has gone through some changes over the years. Our notion of patriotism once focused much more on communitarian values, and less on the individual. A case in point is this excerpt from Franklin Benjamin Hough's History of St. Lawrence and Franklin County (1853). It concerns celebrations in the Town of Potsdam organized by pioneer settler Liberty Knowles.

"In 1825 the citizens of this town united in celebrating the national anniversary in a manner quite novel and utilitarian:

"Resolved therefore that it be recommended to the citizens of said town, to assemble the village, at an early hour on the 4th day of July next, with teams and suitable implements, for the purpose of embanking the meeting houses and gun house, and improving the public square in said town, as a principal part of the exercises of that day.

"Order of the Day:
1. The day will be ushered in by the discharge of cannon.
2. At half past 7 0'clock, A.M., prayers will be attended on the common.
3. Labor will commence at 8 o'clock A.M., at the discharge of one gun.
4. At half past 12 o'clock, at noon, at the discharge of a gun and the sound of a bugle, the procession will form, and, aided by the band, will march to the table (on the common), to be furnished with the provisions which each man will bring with him; and it is presumed some appendages will be added by the people of the village. Liquor will be furnished by the committee.
5. At half past one o'clock, P.M., labor will recommence, at the sound of the bugle.
6. At 5 o'clock, P.M., the sound of the bugle will announce the cessation of labor, when the procession will form and proceed to the place for receiving the address, from Rev. Wallace.
7. The day will close with music and the discharge of cannon."

Enjoy the holiday.

Eat the peas

2009-06-25T15:31:00.005-04:00

You know your state's in trouble when the antics of its politicians start turning up on The Daily Show and in late night monologs. While New York has been briefly displaced by South Carolina as the butt of jokes, due to their governor's (once) mysterious walkabout, don't count Albany out yet. It's a slow-motion train wreck that keeps on giving. Dueling simultaneous sessions?--you can't make this stuff up. Lockouts and walkouts, shouting matches, the governor threatening armed intervention--oh joy.

Formulating fixes for our dysfunctional state legislature has become a cottage industry. Popular suggestions: fire the leaders (assuming you can tell who they are); dock everyone's pay; make them all sit at the table until they eat their peas. Rick Lazio (former GOP candidate for the US Senate) suggests: "Senate? We don' need no steenking Senate," proposing a single-house legislature like Nebraska's.

This is the Empire State; maybe we just need an emperor. Caligula had no trouble with Rome's legislature; he could get his horse appointed to the Senate. The whole horse--he was probably thinking, "Why leave the job half done?"

Caption: Caligula parades his horse Incitatus before the Roman Senate.

Well-traveled

2009-06-18T14:54:00.004-04:00

Seems like everyone's been on the road lately--Bob and Jackie no sooner get back from their Greek excursion than Bob gears up to bicycle from Canton to Provincetown. Martha and David are recovering nicely from recent travels in the Northwest. I'm more of a home body, Thoreau's type, who famously said "I have traveled widely--in Concord."

I clock a lot of miles on evening strolls down the Red Sandstone Trail behind my house on the Raquette River. The route doesn't change much, but the seasons do. The ancient bones of the North Country show, sand and sandstone laid down by the Cambrian Sea, stone so old it contains no fossils large enough to see. The woods change--mostly oak along one stretch, mixed maple and struggling beech along another, cool pine shade farther down on Sugar Island.

At one end is Hannawa Falls, called by the original namers "nihanwate," laughing waters. My favorite stop is a shaded outcrop overhanging the falls at such a perilous angle, some day the water will have the last laugh. At the other end you can see the village of Potsdam downriver, the pilings of the old narrow gauge rail line leading to Oak Island, used to transport salmon-hued loaves of fresh-cut stone from the upstream quarries. The river is dotted with cairns of stone, where the log drivers anchored their booms deep in the 19th century. It's not wilderness, but a place like many in the North Country, where people have lived long enough to make their mark, and long enough for the marks to sink back into soil, to crumble and be overtaken by vines.

This has been my stomping ground since childhood excursions on a bike with a banana seat and ape-hanger handlebars. I see no reason to change now. Though it did look like there were some pretty fair walking trails on the Greek Isles, too.

Twenty Does Plenty

2009-06-11T17:07:00.002-04:00

Twenty bucks is real money--not a whole lot from any one pocket, but added to your neighbor's twenty, and his neighbor's--it becomes serious money, enough to build and maintain important community assets, like North Country Public Radio. We're no stranger to the importance of small gifts--the average gift to NCPR runs to two figures. We have a proud track record of doing a lot with a little.

But especially in these difficult economic times, it's important to dust off the long-neglected and much disrespected virtue of frugality. This summer, we will be looking to broaden our membership base beyond the usual public radio suspects, reaching out to students, younger listeners and other new members, folks who listen to us or visit us online, folks who may not use NCPR all day every day, but have appointments with one or two "gotta listen" programs, or a favorite podcast. Whether the traditional member levels are too much for your budget, or the math just doesn't jive with the way use NCPR, your support at any amount makes a difference. We suggest twenty bucks--a week's worth of mocha-frappa-doubleshotta-whipcreamies, or the price of a CD. Too much?--pick your own number. Spare more?--thank you kindly.

We've put together a few visual aids to help you make up your mind. Check it out at ncpr.org/20.

Deep obeisance

2009-06-04T14:52:00.004-04:00

Sometimes you just gotta give it up. So here it is--massive props to NCPR's code developer Bill Haenel, so great a geek that I am not worthy to lick his mousepad. His pioneering work in the wonky world of geodata has made North Country Public Radio the very first station or network in public broadcasting (or anywhere else in media that I am aware of) to be able to render all of its library of content onto maps.

Before you yawn, consider. One of the great defects of the internet has been that it serves communities of affinity at the expense of communities of residence, sucking huge amounts of attention and energy out of the places where people live, and transferring it into the no particular place of cyberspace. Reattaching "whereness" to the content of the internet can go a long way toward redressing that imbalance.

If, that is, others decide to follow the trail blazed by Bill for NCPR. Most work on internet mapping has focused on one-off efforts to map a particular sequence of events or group of related content. These efforts age out of relevance quickly, and apply only to a tiny fraction of content produced. Bill's approach is holistic instead, incorporating place into the DNA of everything NCPR releases into the wild. If other media follow suit, for the first time there will be "places" in cyberspace that actually correspond to the places where we live. To see some baby steps at exploiting these new capabilities, check out the map links on the home page at ncpr.org.