Monday, March 3, 2014

"I Am Malala" by Malala Yousafzai (2013)

What a remarkable book this is! I was expecting; and not looking forward to; a lengthy tome about Malala Yousafzai’s shooting at the hands of the Taliban in Pakistan. Her crime was two- fold; she was a woman, and she wanted to be educated. There are very few people who haven’t heard of this brave young woman with the idealistic father. Her accomplishments in the area of Women’s Rights are already legendary, and she is just barely 18 years old.

What makes this book a standout is that she has written a seamless history of contemporary Pakistan; from its birth as a nation in 1947; through the troubled early years, and the turmoil which has made Pakistan an ally of both the Eastern and Western powers at various times since. Even more remarkable about it all is that she seems to grasp the significance of that history as it relates to the Pakistan in which she was raised. How many Americans, of any age, can make that claim about our own nation?

After a few pages at the beginning, in which she describes the immediate event of being shot on a bus coming home from school, she moves backward in time, describing both her parent’s history as well as the political strife in which they were born. She examines how those times shaped both her parents in different ways.
Her father became an outspoken advocate of education for both boys and girls; which put him in the crosshairs of radical Islamists early on. Her mother, on the other hand, became more concerned with not rocking the boat and keeping all around her happy.

After a few false starts in opening a school in the Swat Valley; that area on the Pakistan/Afghan border which became a hotbed of violence during the American-Iraq War after 9/11; her father manages to found a school which eventually had 3 buildings and 100 students; both boys and girls. He teaches them in a secular way; everything from science to mathematics and even literature. He firmly believes that the future well-being of any society lies in the education of its youngest members.

Malala begins to fall in step with her father from an early age; delighting in pleasing him by winning contests in school for speaking in public. Ate age 11 she was already speaking on issues such as the right of girls to receive an education. By age 12 she was questioning why women were considered to be less than equal to men. She was already disputing the claims of Radical Islamists that the Quran mandated such treatment.

Encouraged by her father she began to amass a collection of prizes; some even monetary; for her work. This was all happening as the war in Iraq was heating up and spilling over to Pakistan, where the Taliban were hiding from our forces in Afghanistan. As the war progressed the Taliban were making more and more incursions into the Swat Valley, disrupting life there. This is the same area as the one where the Taliban were blowing up the ancient statues of Buddha. Malala used to play amongst those statues; a fact which served to make more real something which, for most people, had only been an abstract item in the press. That perception changes when you hear how it affected someone else’s life, especially a child’s.

The author vividly recounts the confusion attendant to living in Pakistan at the time after 9/11. As the Taliban ramped up their efforts against the “Great Satan” of the United States, they used religion as a means to extract money from the Pakistani people. Often these contributions took the form of women donating their precious wedding bangles. Those pieces of gold became bullets used in battles from which many of their own men never returned while fighting Jihad.

Malala was 16 when she was shot. Her story might have ended that day with her death. The fact that it didn’t has a lot to do with politics, as well as people who were committed to not letting this young woman die. She became a symbol of the contempt in which most of the world holds the Taliban.

Her description of life in England, where she was relocated for medical reasons, is interesting in that with all that has happened to her at such a young age, she still wants to go home. She still wants to fight for justice for her fellow Pakistani’s and women in particular. She still considers herself a good Muslim and wants to help Islamic people everywhere reclaim their religion from the fanatics who have; for the most part; hijacked it. 

This is a remarkable book written by a remarkable young woman, caught up in extraordinary circumstances. And, more than that, it is the story of the triumph of the human spirit over the forces of darkness; which would swallow us whole if we let them.

Sunday, March 2, 2014

Typical Month at Rooftop Reviews


It's been a typical month at Rooftop Reviews. The things I write today won't even "chart" until next year. Sometimes I'm surprised at what gets on there at all! Dismiss the Jimi Hendrix one; it's largely junk mail. I just keep it for the numbers it generates. By next month it will be gone and something else will replace it.

Sometimes it's seasonal. Like in April; my top hit then will be about the Civil War and also about the American Revolution. Surprisingly; overall; the Civil War is the more "popular” of the two. I wonder if that says anything about us as people?

The Vance Hotel is a regular in the top 10. It actually gets comments and also generates e-mails; which I prefer. The Vance is one of those places which attracts people; partly because of its reputation as one of the better hotels of the "old days"; and partly because it has a ghost. Now, that's unique...

Of course; the King and Elvis. I mean, anything about Elvis will get you a hit. I am putting Elvis in the keywords for this. Hey, I may start doing that with all my posts! But seriously, some folks actually do read this stuff. And I'm glad they do.

From cartoons to old films and books and history and stuff that I don't even recall, this is the best value for your buck on the web. Why? A- It’s free. B- There are 7 articles at any given time, as opposed to most other blogs where you can only look at one article at a time. They do that to get the extra hits. I don't need to. That's why I have Elvis and Jimi.

Saturday, March 1, 2014

Selma Burke - Got a Dime?

If you've got a dime in your pocket then you are familiar with this women’s work as a sculptress. But there was a lot more to Selma Burke than just the plaque of Franklin Roosevelt which she created in 1945 for another project.  (More about that dime later.) I first became acquainted with Ms. Burke’s contributions to the world of art and education when I entered the old Mooresville Town Library back in the late 1990’s. There was a plaque of her - a portrait on wood – which still hangs there today, right where the old and new libraries are joined together.

Ms. Burke (who shares the same last name as my paternal great-grand parents) was born in Mooresville, North Carolina on the last day of the year 1900. Her father was a farmer and church Minister, while her mother did everything else.

Young Selma was interested in art at a very early age, but her mother was a pragmatic woman and wanted her to learn something which would lead to secure employment. Accordingly, she became a Nurse, graduating from St, Agnes Training School in Raleigh in 1924. From there she moved to Harlem, which was still in the throes of the great Harlem Renaissance. What a change this must have been for a farm girl from Mooresville, North Carolina! It was while in New York that she began her first job as a Nurse.

The Harlem Arts Community Center was an integral part of the Harlem Renaissance, and it was there that Ms. Burke was able to meet with some of artists who would influence her to take that great leap; from the security of nursing to taking a chance on following her dreams. Cautiously, she kept the day job, and sculpted at night.

Her early work was good enough for her to attain 2 grants; The Rosenwald  in 1935, and the Boehler in 1936. She also received money from the Foundation Grants program in the late 1930’s which enabled her to study abroad. Places like Vienna and Paris were now not just a dream; they were her new reality. This period of her life and studies earned her a Master of Fine Arts degree from Columbia University in 1941.

Contrary to what many believe the bust of Franklin Roosevelt was never a bust at all; rather it started out as a plaque done while the President was still alive and in office. It was part of a project to honor the “Four Freedoms”, which was a cornerstone of FDR’s post war vision of guaranteeing peace and security foe the world.

The plaque was completed in early 1945. On March 10th Eleanor Roosevelt visited Selma Burke in her studio to view the finished work. She echoed what many people have opined since the Roosevelt Dime was issued in 1946. She thought that Ms. Burke had portrayed him as “too young.” Ms. Burke told the First Lady, "I’ve not done it for today, but for tomorrow and tomorrow."  It measured 3.5’ by 2.5’ and was unveiled in September 1945 at the Recorder of Deeds Building in Washington. It still resides there today. Now the story gets a bit tricky.

John R. Sinnock was the Chief Engraver at the Bureau of Engraving. In 1946, the year after Roosevelt had died in office, he was asked to design a new dime to honor the fallen President. It’s obvious, in my opinion, that he merely lifted the profile from the original work by Ms. Burke, using it as the obverse on the new dime and placing his initials; JS; below the work. Even when confronted with the similarity in the design of the two depictions he vehemently denied it.

Ms. Burke paid it no mind at all, continuing to focus on teaching art to others. She established schools in New York and Pittsburgh. The Pittsburgh school is fondly remembered as having contributed greatly to that cities cultural renaissance. The seeds first planted in Harlem were finally bearing fruit. She was also a Public School teacher there for 17 years.

She spent most of her final years at her studio in Buck’s County, Pennsylvania. It was there, while working on a project to honor Rosa Parks that she died. It was August 29, 1995. Her biggest contribution is probably having devoted her life to furthering the education of others while instilling within them a love of art.

There is one quote from Ms. Burke which sums up her philosophy in a nutshell; “Art didn’t start black or white, it just started ... There have been too many labels in this world: Negro, Colored, Black, African-American ... Why do we label people with everything except Children of God?"

Friday, February 28, 2014

February - The Short Month

I posted this article 2 years ago today. It is one of the more popular posts which I have written. The history of the calendar has always fascinated me; from the early religious lunar calendars to the more modern solar calculations and even the atomic clock; it’s all of interest to me. Time itself may be infinite; but you and I are here for a finite period, which will come to an end soon enough. Maybe that’s why I’m so concerned about how they keep score; I wouldn’t want to miss a single minute!

Imagine having your summer vacation in January, or Christmas in June. Seems unlikely, doesn’t it? But that’s exactly where we would be at today if Caesar had not adopted the changes to the “Julian” calendar when he added one day every fourth year to keep everything in order. Of course, we know it as leap year, and it is an accepted part of living, engendering such witticisms as, “If you’re born on February 29th then you don’t get to vote until you’re 72 years old!” Or, “If you marry on February 29th then you only have to buy the wife a gift every 4th year.” Right; you try it, and let me know how that works out for you.

I have always been fascinated by numbers, even when failing math in grammar school.(I was fascinated at how low my grades were.) Still later, while working as a grocery clerk, before the advent of the modern day cash register, I was further enamored of the precision of numbers in general. And, still later, as a Quartermaster in the Navy, and then as a qualified 3rd Mate aboard oil tankers, the absolute nature of the stars in their movements, hooked me on math forever. In that spirit I offer the following, and accepted, mathematical reasons for the need of a leap year.

In 46 BC, Julius Caesar was faced with the problem that the Roman calendar then in use had slipped 81 days. This was especially noticeable at the spring equinox, which was an agricultural benchmark affecting the planting of crops. Something needed to be done to correct the error. Caesar simply added 81 days to the calendar, and instituted the leap year, bringing all things back to their proper order; for a time.

The Julian calendar, which is the one in use from 46 BC until 1582 AD, was based upon 365.25 days for one journey around the sun. Now, this was pretty good shooting for 46 BC, but by the 16th Century advances in science, and navigation, had revealed the actual length of time to orbit the sun as being a bit shorter; 365.2422 days, which meant that we were now out of whack by 10 days, which was fouling up the date on which to observe Easter. In preparation for Easter of 1582, Pope Gregory XIII deleted 10 days for that year, which reset the clock, so to speak. That became known as the Gregorian calendar, which is what we still use today.

As time has gone by, even the Gregorian calendar has come up for correction. George Washington, the father of our country, was actually born on the 11th of February in 1732. His birthday was advanced by 11 days in 1752 when the colonies switched from the Julian calendar to the Gregorian calendar. I have never really been sure of why the colonies were using the older Julian calendar, so I will have to look into that. But poor George Washington, he seems destined to never have a permanent birthday, as we now celebrate his special day as a three day weekend, or President's Day, which gives him a “leap” in his birthday every year, rather than one in every four.

There are many different calendars in use around the world, each with its own version of Leap Year. My own religion, Judaism, makes use of the older Lunar calendar which requires a correction of almost 20 days, or so, making it a 13 month year. That month is named Adar I, or, the "lucky" month. It is neatly slipped in between the months of Shevat and Adar, giving the leap year a total of 385 days. The Jewish Leap Year is also known as the "Pregnant" year; "Shanah Me'uberet" in Hebrew; as it bulges with extra days. These leap years are distributed 7 times over a 19 year period, and occur during the 3rd, 6th, 8th, 11th, 14th, 17th, and 19th years of the cycle. This is known as the Metonic cycle and marks the moons return to the exact place, at the same longitude, with the same constellation in the sky. Moreover this occurs at the time when the moon is in the exact same phase as it was at the beginning of the cycle.

I hope this has been of some help to you in understanding the calendar we use today; especially how it relates to the lunar, religious cycles which govern most of our religious holidays. It’s a fascinating topic and this small post of mine merely touches upon the proverbial tip of the iceberg.

Thursday, February 27, 2014

"The Unknown Love" by Raymond Chandler (1908)

We all know and love Raymond Chandler for his hard-boiled detective novels, featuring Philip Marlow, as well as his other “pulp fiction” type stories; and also his screenplays; for films like “Double Indemnity” and "The Big Sleep." But what I didn't know was that he once wrote poetry. He was only 17 when he wrote this one, which was published on December 19, 1908 in Chamber’s Journal, a magazine out of London at the time.

I was reading a biography of Mr. Chandler by Tom Williams (no relation) when I came across the first verse of the poem in the chapter about Mr. Chandler’s years in London. He went to school there for a time, and evidently wrote poetry as well.

This poem places an unknown woman on a pedestal, much as he would do in his later writings. Actually; according to Tom Williams; the poem holds all the elements of a Philip Marlowe story. There is a seductive, almost unknowable woman, and then a man, seemingly trapped by his own passion for her, in a relationship which is always doomed from the start. That’s pretty heavy stuff for a 17 year old.

Anyway, here it is; a Raymond Chandler poem. I got the text from a website which has all of his early poetry. It’s unpolished, and some would say not that good. No matter; I really like it.

“The Unknown Love”

When the evening sun is slanting,
When the crickets raise their chanting,
And the dewdrops lie a-twinkling on the grass,
As I climb the pathway slowly,
With a mien half proud, half lowly,
O'er the ground your feet have trod I gently pass.

Round the empty house I wander,
Where the ivy now is fonder
Of your memory than those long gone away;
And I feel a sweet affection
For the plant that lends protection
To the window whence you looked on me that day.

Was it love or recognition,
When you stormed my weak position
And made prisoner my heart for evermore?
For I felt I long had known you,
That I'd knelt before the throne you
Graced in Pharaoh's days or centuries before.

Though your face from me was hidden,
Yet the balm was not forbidden
On your coffin just to see the wreath I sent.
Though no word had passed between us,
Yet I felt that God had seen us
And had joined your heart to mine e'en as you went.

Let them talk of love and marriage,
Honeymoon and bridal carriage,
And the glitter of a wedding   la mode!
Could they understand the union
Of two hearts in dear communion
Who were strangers in the world of flesh and blood?

In my eyes the tears are welling
As I stand before your dwelling,
In my pilgrimage to where you lived, my fair.
And ere I return to duty
In this world of weary beauty,
To the stillness of the night I breathe my prayer:

When the last great trump has sounded,
When life's barque the point has rounded,
When the wheel of human progress is at rest,
My beloved, may I meet you,
With a lover's kiss to greet you,
Where you wait me in the gardens of the blest!

R. T. CHANDLER.

Wednesday, February 26, 2014

Death from Above - A "Midnight" Story

This is a story about the cat who adopted us. His name is Midnight and he gets into all kinds of stuff he shouldn’t. For instance, there are several “strays” on my street; and even some “housecats”; but Midnight is the only one among them who can actually claim to have flown. Not once; but twice.

Now, there may be a cat somewhere in the neighborhood that has been “transported” via plane while locked in a cat carrier; but that hardly qualifies as real flying. Midnight has actually flown; although his 2 flights were mostly freefall. Let me recap those adventures and explain the picture above, which is the result of his 2nd; and latest; “solo.”

Midnight’s first flight occurred in the middle of the afternoon. He was traversing the open area in back of our house; which is about the length of two football fields; when a large shadow loomed over him; and then; in an instant; lifted him off the ground; higher than he had ever been.

A hawk had been circling overhead, and with his infra-red, heat sensing capabilities, said hawk spotted Midnight and came roaring down to snatch him up for a meal. Luckily we feed him too much; he is very spoiled; and so the hawk was unable to hold him for more than about 200 feet horizontally, and about 40 feet vertically. Midnight was very spooked by the whole thing and I have to say that he put up as much of a fight as one can while being suspended by the scruff of your neck 40 feet in the air.

In the end his first flight lasted about as long as the Wright Brothers did at Kitty Hawk. The only real difference is that I had no camera at hand. Midnight suffered a torn ear which has never really healed properly; causing him to have a very strange “meow” as a result of some hearing loss. Doesn’t matter; he still lets us know when he’s hungry. He just doesn’t play in the back anymore.

Now; as for the picture above; we are actually only guessing that this latest injury was the result of another “air raid.” We’re basing that premise on the fact that if it wasn’t a bird which attacked him, then it would have to have been a very large coyote; about as big as a Great Dane; or a bear so weak that when he bit Midnight’s head he didn’t quite break the skin; just ripped off all his fur and left two white patches of skin, which have swelled a bit. I’m betting on the hawk.

Midnight’s reaction to this latest outrage has been pretty interesting. He came home and ate a tremendous amount of food; which is not all that unusual when he has been out all night. Then he went to sleep; waking up to be sick. He actually left the garage so as not to make a mess. “Bless his little heart”; as we say here in Dixie. Then he wouldn’t eat for a day or so, before disappearing again; with Sue and I thinking he had gone off somewhere to die.

Well, I guess we were wrong; or maybe it was the fact that we bought him a new bag of food and some tuna, betting against the odds that he wouldn’t return. At any rate, he came home the next day; along with his appetite. And we were really glad to see him.

He depends upon us for so much. He doesn’t know how to kill or hunt. He watches birds take the food from his bowl. He plays with grasshoppers; swatting them with his closed paws; gently prodding them so that they will hop. He’s basically helpless. So, he really needs us to survive. And when he’s gone; we realize how much we need him, too. I wish he could read this, just to know how important he has become…

Tuesday, February 25, 2014

4 Non Blondes - "What's Up" (1992)


One of my favorite videos and songs was introduced to me by my daughter, Sarah, back in 1992. 4 Non Blondes was a group which featured Linda Perry on guitar and vocals. She's the one wearing the hat and dreadlocks. Great song and style.

The other night I was watching the final episode of the TV series "The Shield"; the one in which Michael Chiklis; as Detective Vic Mackey; finally gets his own prison cell as a government bureaucrat assigned to a desk.  The final scene has him coming to the realization that although he has avoided prison, he has not escaped; nor will he ever; the consequences of his crimes.

The song which was the backdrop fro the final 2 minutes of the show was so appropriate that I had never previously focused on the singer. But last night I happened to pick up the guitar to play along with the music (I do that) and realized that there was something eerily familiar about both the chord pattern and the style.

I came to the conclusion that it was Linda Perry, but couldn't remember the name of the band, though I was able to remember the song, just not the name of it. By this afternoon listening to the song in the car we both came to it right at the same time- 4 Non Blondes! And the singer was definitely the same.We came home and looked it up, too.

Unfortunately I  was wrong and Linda Perry was not in both bands. An alert reader caught the error in July of 2014 and commented below.

So, Linda Perry was not the lead singer for both bands; 4 Non Blondes and Concrete Blonde; which is the band I heard on the TV show, and sounded so similar. Here is the song which started the search to begin with. I couldn't download the actual scene from from the show, but here is the link to the album version of the song "Long Time Ago" from the 1992 release by Concrete Blonde called "Walking In London";

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=II2zX0S9-iQ