| Structure Bookmarks |
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| NORTHWEST •■WORKSHOP |
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| NORTHWEST •■WORKSHOP |
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| sARTISTS |
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| sARTISTS |
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| E®SPAY THE |
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| RENT |
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| RENT |
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| JS Exhibition & Sale |
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| Dec. 18 |
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| ■R e c e p tio n : |
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| ■R e c e p tio n : |
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| ^/^ ■Thu rs, Dec. 4; .-^ AiS 6-9 p.m. |
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| ■Special |
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| ■Special |
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| ■Special |
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| ■Special |
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| Hours: |
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| ■Tues |
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| ■Tues |
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| thru Sun |
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| Well-known Portland Artists! |
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| ■12 -5pm |
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| r- |
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| REAL ART at affordable prices! |
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| ■(closed Mondays) |
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| Unique, original artwork: Paintings, Drawings, Photos, Sculpture, Jewelry, and MORE! |
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| A ll Items $50 and Under! |
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| 522 NW 12th 220-0435 |
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| CONTEMPORARY ART GLASS |
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| CONTEMPORARY ART GLASS |
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| DISC OVE R TH E FINE ART OF AMER ICAN CR AFT |
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| The Real Mother Goose |
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| The Real Mother Goose |
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| AShop Washington Square S.W. 9th & Yamhill and Gallen' 620-2243 223-9510 |
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| DISCOVER The most delightful assortment ofmusical instruments for children (and grownups too!) |
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| EVERYCHILD IS AMUSICIAN. |
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| EVERYCHILD IS AMUSICIAN. |
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| Unbreakable Percussion Wood Tone Drums Kiddie Keyboards Dulcimers Whistles Flutes Recorders Mandolins Conga Drums Teacher Referrals Records and Tapes Affordable Guitars VISA/MasterCard |
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| Unbreakable Percussion Wood Tone Drums Kiddie Keyboards Dulcimers Whistles Flutes Recorders Mandolins Conga Drums Teacher Referrals Records and Tapes Affordable Guitars VISA/MasterCard |
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| Instruments Bought FREE MORNING and Sold WORKSHOPS FOR PRE-SCHOOL |
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| Open 10:30 to 6 Monday -Saturday |
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| AGE CHILDREN |
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| AGE CHILDREN |
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| ARTICHOKE MUSICS s |
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| ARTICHOKE MUSICS s |
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| ns are $16 fo |
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| ADDRESS _ ZIP |
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| ADDRESS _ ZIP |
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| 1. NAME |
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| ____ STATE CITY___ |
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| ADDRESS _ ZIP |
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| 2. NAME |
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| 2. NAME |
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| ____ STATE CITY___ |
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| ADDRESS _ ZIP |
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| ADDRESS _ ZIP |
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| 3. NAME |
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| ____ STATE CITY___ |
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| ADDRESS _ ZIP |
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| ADDRESS _ ZIP |
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| 4. NAME |
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| ____ STATE CITY___ |
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| OX 3588, POR |
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| Original designs on quality apparel. |
4 |
| New Market Village 50 S.W. 2nd Portland 221-0353 |
4 |
| wishes to thank all its patrons&musicians for making Key Largo a live music paradise! |
4 |
| 31 NORTHWEST FIRST AVE 223-9919 |
4 |
| Have you been wanting to see the antique country pine furniture that is in all the major magazines? |
4 |
| Have you been wanting to see the antique country pine furniture that is in all the major magazines? |
4 |
| NOW Country Home Antiques has over 8000 sq. ft. of the finest, affordable antique country furnishings, accessories and country gifts from the countrysides of Denmark, Sweden, Germany and America. |
4 |
| STOP BY, You’ll want to see that country home look brought to life in “Country Home’s” new showroom displays. |
4 |
| fCOllNTKIllOMEl |
4 |
| fCOllNTKIllOMEl |
4 |
| 7875 S.E. 13THAVENUEINOLDSELLWOODONANTIQUEROW■(503) 233-5070 ■HOURS: 11 to 5P.M., TUESDAYTHROUGHSATURDAY |
4 |
| VOL8. NO4. WINTER 1986 |
5 |
| STA FF |
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| STA FF |
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| ^^o-editors |
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| David Milholland Lenny Dee |
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| David Milholland Lenny Dee |
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| Associate Editors |
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| Jim Blashfield, Michael Helm Paul Loeb |
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| Jim Blashfield, Michael Helm Paul Loeb |
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| Washington State Coordinator |
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| Judy Bevis |
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| Judy Bevis |
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| Art Direction |
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| David Milholland |
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| David Milholland |
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| Design |
5 |
| Tim Braun |
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| Tim Braun |
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| Guest Designers |
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| Candace Bieneman Reed Darmon |
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| Candace Bieneman Reed Darmon |
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| Cover Preparation |
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| Sharon Niemczyk |
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| Sharon Niemczyk |
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| Cover Photographer |
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| Bill Bachhuber M Sales—Oregon Dru Duniway, Rhonda Kennedy |
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| Ad Sales—Washington |
5 |
| Judy Bevis, Deborah Goldhaft |
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| Judy Bevis, Deborah Goldhaft |
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| Ad Production Coordinator |
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| Stacey Fletcher |
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| Stacey Fletcher |
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| Ad Production |
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| Jane Jovett, Joyce Fletcher Liz Towlll |
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| Jane Jovett, Joyce Fletcher Liz Towlll |
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| Camerawork |
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| Tim Braun, Laura Di Trapani |
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| Tim Braun, Laura Di Trapani |
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| Typesetting |
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| Archetype, Harrison Typesetting, Inc., Lee Emmett, 4M, Sherry Swain |
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| Archetype, Harrison Typesetting, Inc., Lee Emmett, 4M, Sherry Swain |
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| Office Assistant |
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| Michele Hall |
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| Michele Hall |
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| Contributing Artists |
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| John Callahan, Margaret Chodos-lnrine Keith Jellum, Stephen Lefiar Bruce McGillivray, Jack McLarty Barbara Sekerka. Carl Smool |
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| John Callahan, Margaret Chodos-lnrine Keith Jellum, Stephen Lefiar Bruce McGillivray, Jack McLarty Barbara Sekerka. Carl Smool |
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| Contributing Photographer |
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| Jorge Garcia |
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| Jorge Garcia |
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| intern |
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| Lianne Hirabayashi |
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| Lianne Hirabayashi |
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| Printing |
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| Tualatin-Yamhill Press |
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| Tualatin-Yamhill Press |
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| Thanks |
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| Andy Allen, Dave Ball, Rachel Bishop Edward/Natalle Diener, Jeannine Edelblut Steve Hood, William Jamison, Craig Karp Deborah Levin, Peggy Lindquist Theresa Marquez, Melissa Marsland Doug Milholland, Kevin Mulligan Bill Nagel, Jan Micholson Oregon Arts Commission, John Pickett Laura Vemum, John Wanberg The Clinton 500 |
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| ON THE COVER |
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| ON THE COVER |
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| Cover—Tom Cramer Artist Cramer lives in Portland where his totems and paintings can be seen at the Jamison-Thomas Gallery. Sketch by Stephen Lefiar. |
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| White Stones—Timothy Ryan A visit to Tunisia brings the desert world into new light. |
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| The Snap Revolution—James Fenton On the scene in Manila as Marcos falls. Was he tripped or did he pull the strings? |
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| The Clinton St. Quarterly is published in both Ore­gon and Washington editions by CSQ—a project of Out of the Ashes Press. Oregon address: P.O. Box 3588, Portland, OR 97208, (503) 222 6039; Washington Address: 1520 Western Avenue, Seat­tle, WA 98101, (206)682 2404. Unless otherwise noted, all contents copyright© 1986, Clinton St. Quarterly. |
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| ED ITO RIA L |
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| f he term neo-colonialism surfaced some 20 years ago, to describe the status of many Third World nations after the breakup of the European empires. Though Britain, for exam­ple, continues to hold such bastions as Hong Kong and the Falklands, the post-WWII politi­cal reality is totally altered. Ex-colonies, how­ever, soon found themselves dependent again on the very nations who'd ushered in their manumission, dependent more econom­ically than politically. Thus neo-colonialism. |
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| A less-discussed form of neo-colonialism has emerged in the twilight days of the Reagan era. Large sections of the U.S. have fallen outofthenationalco-prosperitysphere. Both producers of capital-intensive manufac­tured goods (automobiles, farm equipment, major appliances) and raw-materials find themselves buffeted by international compet­ition and high costs. Locales as disparate as Detroit, Houston and Portland are watching their basic economic underpinnings reel. And because most of the capital investment |
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| The Pacific Northwest is sorely pressed to maintain wages and employment at national levels. Most of its basic industries have floun­dered throughout the 1980s. Only Boeing, the military installations and those portions of the computer industry strongly linked to the mili­tary buildup have escaped the long Reagan downturn. The wood products industry has waited for a trickle that never came. Few ag­ricultural producers have stayed on top of credit and land costs incurred in the inflatio­nary 70s. Commodity p |
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| Sucharitkul Two brothers find themselves coping with alien invasions. Thailand has never been the same. |
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| Inside the Cage—T.R. Healey An examination of courage. |
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| Fluid Metal—Keith Jellum Sculptor Jellum describes the roots and aims of his work. A first-person piece sponsored by the Oregon Arts Commission. |
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| store after store. Many businesses, especially those owned by outside investors, have folded up shop. |
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| The rise of Japan, its allies in the Far East, and most of Europe to economic parity with the U.S. has opened our nation to competition it had not prepared to face. One popular ef­fort to turn around the region's economy has been to search out investment from the Far East. Despite some success, the impact has been slight. Wages paid are seldom even near previous union levels. True, the entire |
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| West Coast economy will increasingly reflect its proximity to the Orient. But the transition will be gradual. A more fruitful long-term strategy will arise |
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| in reaction to the growing fragmentation of the U.S. economy. To prevent ongoing loss of jobsand business, capital willhave tobe gen­erated and controlled regionally. Though |
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| legal structures to do this are not yet in place, wecan alreadysee that waiting fora national solution leaves us in far too precarious a posi­tion. Neo-colonies such as Oregon, Washing­ton, Northern California (even British Colum­bia) are going to find links to eastern financial and governmental centers diminishing as they become more self-reliant and in­tertwined regionally. |
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| Thefirstevidence ofthisshiftisstillfragmen­tary. Theregion isat odds with nationalpolicy on many fronts. One case in point is the in­creasing dissatisfaction with the decision to |
5 |
| Son II Season of the IJSFL—Sharon Doubiago A sequel to one of our most commented features. Pro-football and the mother-son relationship. |
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| The Emergent Economy—Paul Hawken Our declining industrial economy is being replaced before our eyes. This story helps us understand (and prepare for) its replacement. |
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| Health Care in Nicaragua—Andrew Himes The Seattle Connection. |
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| Nuclear Christmas—John Callahan |
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| Our favorite cartoonist gives us a glowing |
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| version of an old chestnut. |
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| Ad Index |
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| make the Hanford Nuclear Reservation a final candidate for repository for the entire nation’s nuclear wastes. Strong regional support has arisen also for the anti-nuclear positions of Seattle’s recently demoted Archbishop Ray­mond Hunlhausen. Such anti-federal, anti-papist dissent is but the tip of the iceberg. |
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| It remains for us to develop a workable long-term strategy for turning such negative feelings into the backbone of a policy which provides full employment outside the war economy. Withthe exception ofparts ofWest­ern Washington, our region exports a far greater share of our federal tax dollars than come ourway. Ifeven a portion ofthatmoney was creatively invested locally, we’d soon feel the difference. It takes more than lotteries and federal programs to keep our economy healthy. It’s up to us, right here a |
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| DM |
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| WHITE |
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| WHITE |
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| ATUNISIAN |
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| ATUNISIAN |
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| ATUNISIAN |
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| By Timothy Ryan |
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| By Timothy Ryan |
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| Illustration by |
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| Illustration by |
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| T WAS THE SPRING OF THE |
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| I |
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| RUMORS OF DEATH . |
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| RUMORS OF DEATH . |
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| VOICES COLD AND DRY AS |
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| SPEAKERS ON SHIPS OR BUS |
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| STATIONS RANDOMLY AN ­ |
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| NOUNCING THE FUTURE |
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| FROM THE REMAINS OF THE |
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| PRESENT . T HIS WAS IN 1983, |
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| WHEN THE OCEAN'S VAST­ |
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| NESS REPRESENTED THE FU­ |
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| TURE TO ME, AND THE PECU­ |
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| LIAR MELANCHOLY ATMO ­ |
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| SPHERE OF AIRPORTS THE |
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| PAST . M Y TUNISIAN HOLI­ |
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| DAY CHANGED ALL THAT. |
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| I SPENT M ARCH IN SICILY, |
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| WHERE THE PAPERS ' AC ­ |
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| COUNTS OF THE M AFIA 'S |
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| DEMISE WERE SURELY EXAG­ |
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| GERATED. T HERE WAS KILL­ |
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| IN G ALL RIGHT, BUT THE |
6 |
| PEOPLE DYING AT THE BLACK |
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| HANDS OF ANONYMOUS CAR­ |
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| BOMBERS AND ASSASSINS ON |
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| VESPA MOPEDS WERE RE ­ |
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| SPECTED JUDGES AND COM ­ |
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| MUNIST OFFICIALS. |
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| At this time I was a sales representative |
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| At this time I was a sales representative |
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| for a textbook company based in Athens |
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| and was travelling through Italy on busi­ |
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| ness. I thought an excursion from Pal­ |
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| ermo to Tunis on the overnight ferry to |
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| see some old friends would be relaxing, a |
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| bargain vacation. |
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| I stayed the first night at the shabby |
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| I stayed the first night at the shabby |
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| Hotel Bristol in the heart of the capital—a |
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| spiral-staircased pension along the alley |
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| running in the shadow of the main thor­ |
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| oughfare, Rue Habib Bourguiba. The |
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| rumors in the city were of the Presidentfor-Life’s impending demise. Frail, in his eighties, Bourguiba seemed to be “ los­ing his grip” and was expected to go very soon. |
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| - |
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| What most worried the madam who ran this best little whorehouse in Tunis (with the miniskirted vinylbooted featherboaed girls always in and out) was the gossip that Bourguiba had signed an agreement handing his country over to Moammar Gadhafi at the event of his death. |
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| - |
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| I later heard this same stuff taken very seriously by U.S. Embassy people, and thought it the kind of diet that naturally feeds expatriate paranoia. |
6 |
| Slipping off to sleep, I thought of the night before, sailing away from the em­pire of lights that is Europe and waking in the gray morning to mosques, sand, an alien tongue, the blue and white shores of ancient Carthage. I felt truly outside familiar culture, history, experien ­ce. . .reflected upon the first time I left America for any length of time—how it felt to be outside the fortress of nar­cissism, the eternally self-reflecting mir­ror. For life on the outside seemed so clear-eyed and basic. |
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| he second day I stayed with |
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| T |
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| friends from the embassy, Ted and |
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| friends from the embassy, Ted and |
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| friends from the embassy, Ted and |
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| gling with a recalcitrant scuba pump motor when we arrived. |
6 |
| The Richardsons lived in a large house in La Marsa, Tunis’ diplomatic commu­nity of white-washed, blue-trim resi­dences enclosed in fortified gardens above the sea. Ted’s avid, almost lurid interest in strange creatures—garish, |
6 |
| The Richardsons lived in a large house in La Marsa, Tunis’ diplomatic commu­nity of white-washed, blue-trim resi­dences enclosed in fortified gardens above the sea. Ted’s avid, almost lurid interest in strange creatures—garish, |
6 |
| pulsive, tenuous reassurance to those caught up in the siege mentality. |
6 |
| The BBC voice reported a car bombing of the American Embassy in Beirut. More than 60 people were dead; Islamic Jihad had claimed responsibility. |
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| Ted and Stevie gasped, then tried to reassure themselves. It seemed they had |
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| REFLECTED UPON THE FIRST TIME I LEFT AMERICA FOR ANY LENGTH OF TIME — HOW IT FELT TO BE OUTSIDE THE FORTRESS OF NARCISSISM, THE ETERNALLY SELF-REFLECTING MIRROR. FOR LIFE ON THE OUTSIDE SEEMED SO CLEAR-EYED AND BASIC. |
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| I |
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| neon-vibrant macaws, a tarantula in a fishbowl, African beetles the size of box­ers’ fists mounted on plaques—madethe place even more exotic than it seemed at first. |
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| We went into the kitchen, poured a toast of red wine and set about making dinner. Ted talked about his work, energy surveys, the fragile condition of Tunisia; how its “ most stable Arab nation” epithet was a dangerous illusion. Tunisia’s fu­ture, he said, was oil and tourism. “At least it has a future, however precarious.” |
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| I complained about the hassles of in­ |
6 |
| Stevie Richardson. Stevie picked me upcessant air travel, demanding sales man­ |
6 |
| at the hotel in their red VW, telling me how lucky I was to come now—April was a perfect month to visit Tunisia. Unfortu­nately, her father had been seriously in­jured in a motorcycle accident in the States. She apologized, saying she had to leave the next day. But Ted, she said, would be around. |
6 |
| Ted was the Agency for International Development Science Officer, a big bear of a man with a bushy black beard and eyes that seem to pierce all surfaces with the force of sheer curiosity. He was strug­ |
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| Ted was the Agency for International Development Science Officer, a big bear of a man with a bushy black beard and eyes that seem to pierce all surfaces with the force of sheer curiosity. He was strug­ |
6 |
| agers, deadbeat customers. Then we talked about travel— Israel, Italy, the Greek Islands. |
6 |
| At five o’clock Stevie switched on the black short-wave radio, the only thing in the room to distinguish this kitchen from one in the States. The clipped, comfort­able tones of the BBC World Service is­sued forth, the thread of authority linking up the far-reaching web of the Western World. The sound of this deep, controlled voice created in me an ethereal sense of connectivity, at once familiar and re­ |
6 |
| At five o’clock Stevie switched on the black short-wave radio, the only thing in the room to distinguish this kitchen from one in the States. The clipped, comfort­able tones of the BBC World Service is­sued forth, the thread of authority linking up the far-reaching web of the Western World. The sound of this deep, controlled voice created in me an ethereal sense of connectivity, at once familiar and re­ |
6 |
| two friends who had just been transferred to Beirut—one Tunisian, one American. |
6 |
| Within hours we discovered their Tuni­sian friend had been killed and the task of notifying the family had fallen to the Rich­ardsons. When they returned from this grim duty they were beside themselves. |
6 |
| “Oh God, it was terrible,” said Ted, pouring a drink. “They leapt all over us. ‘You did it to her, you filthy Americans,’ that sort of thing. My God, Jemilla was our friend too. Nothing I could say had any effect, which I imagine is under­standable. ‘The Americans are to blame.’ What could I say? We were the ones who transferred her. . . . They asked us if we were satisfied that we had killed their daughter.. . . ” |
6 |
| “They said she didn’t want to go, but she went anyway,” said Stevie, her voice moving slowly in that measured space of shock and regret and loss. Her face was sprinkled with freckles and under normal circumstances it gave one the impres­sion that her nature was relentlessly happy, upbeat. Now she just looked drawn. She passed her hands through the thick bush of her auburn hair, as if |
6 |
| Clinton St. Quarterly |
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| Clinton St. Quarterly |
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| STONES |
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| STONES |
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| trying to rid herself of its weight, of some­thing too heavy on her head. “ It doesn’t matter what they called us. They hold us responsible. Of course, in a way we are.” |
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| “ We didn ’t pla nt the bomb for crissakes—” |
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| And so on. The conversation devolved into a morbid post-mortem of past griev­ances by Tunisians against Americans and the Richardsons’ insecure but smug assertions that Tunisia was no different than any other Arab country—the Islamic Revolution and its attendant chaos and ruin could happen here too. |
7 |
| Ted left the next day for Beirut. His former experience as an ordnance spe­cialist for U.S. Army Intelligence had been called upon by the embassy in Beirut before. He hated going there. “ It’s a piece cf my bloody past always coming back at me,” Ted shrugged as I bid them goodbye at the bus station. |
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| he bus rolled across the dry, pa­ |
7 |
| T |
7 |
| tchy north Sahel dotted here and |
7 |
| tchy north Sahel dotted here and |
7 |
| poppies. I thought I’d take a brief tour, then head back to Tunis to rendezvous with the Richard sons when they returned. |
7 |
| Four hours south of Tunis, near the cold, dusty town of Makthar, was a devel­opment program that Ted administered. He had arranged for me to have a look at it. |
7 |
| When I reached Makthar, a Tunisian extension worker named Faisal took me by jeep some 60 kilometers into the hills to the site of the village project. In the midst of this overgrazed, desolate land­scape, Faisal showed me how irrigation was pulling life and greenery from the trickling thread of a river. A weaving coop had also been established, along with rabbit-raising to increase the protein supply. |
7 |
| Faisal cut a sharp figure next to his traditional, rather ragged countrymen: slim, very handsome, dressed in dark blue Levis and denim jacket, with soft gray Italian shoes. His face was smooth and unlined, intelligent but as yet uncynical. We talked about development programs, mostly, and how hard it was for his government to get college-educated young people like himself to work in the countryside. But we also had a strange conversation about Jews, Hitler and South Africa: it seemed Faisal liked Gadhafi be |
7 |
| - |
7 |
| this place, squeezed between the vast, oceanic sky and Arizona-sharp moun­tains rising up across the withered creek, were the ancient heaps of white-washed stones blackened by recent blood. |
7 |
| he next day I reached the coast of |
7 |
| T |
7 |
| that great shimmering ash-blond |
7 |
| that great shimmering ash-blond |
7 |
| sea, the Sahara. At the edge were twoheat. I sat in the bar, had a bottle of the |
7 |
| small towns clutching a subterranean lifeblood. |
7 |
| My first impression of Tozeur, the larger town, was that some ill wind from the north had blown in the detritus of tourism and the populace had hung on to it as if to a splendid addiction. Under­ground, thousands of springs fed a vast |
7 |
| F AISAL LIKED GADHAFI BECAUSE, “LIKE HITLER/' HE WAS A MAN WITH A VISION. I TOLD HIM WHERE THAT KIND OF VISION LED. I MENTIONED SOUTH AFRICA |
7 |
| there with pointillist fields of blood-red |
7 |
| AND WAS ABSOLUTELY ASTONISHED TO DISCOVER |
7 |
| HE'D NEVER HEARD OF THE SLAVERY, RACISM AND VIOLENCE THERE. |
7 |
| As we left, we passed the mysterious heaps of rocks I’d noticed at the ap­proach to the village. “You see the piles of white stone?” Faisal said. “Yes? It’s an ancient custom. Thousands of years old, no one knows how long. The people col­lected enough money between them to buy a cow, perhaps one a year. And they brought it to these ancient places, they sacrificed it, they divided the meat. These are places left from pre-lslamic times. Now they have the rabbits, so they don’t need to buy cows.” |
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| Later all I would remember clearly of |
7 |
| Later all I would remember clearly of |
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| Later all I would remember clearly of |
7 |
| oasis that was quickly being bled dry by booming luxury hotels. I stayed one night and moved on the next day to Nefta, a smaller village some 20 kilometers out in the desert. |
7 |
| Nefta was quiet, fragile, sitting on a hill amidst thousands of palms. It was a place where an ancient life streamed on touched only here and there by the re­lentlessness of modern times; a strictly delimited world, an amorphous organism with a hard, white-washed core to it. |
7 |
| There was a single water-guzzling hotel perched on a ridge above the town, |
7 |
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| and only two or three other, far more mod­est offerings. I picked the Marhala, a rug­ged, desert-motif “touring club” on the outskirts of town: a full pension was only twelve dollars a day. The center of the Marhala was an open-air courtyard with a bar undercover, and rooms facing off the square. Only the bus drivers and I seemed to be staying there. |
7 |
| The afternoon was all slow, golden |
7 |
| The afternoon was all slow, golden |
7 |
| national beer as the flies droned, and chatted with Bertrand, a German geog­rapher who had stopped in for a drink. I was bemused by the opening of our con­versation, how it sounded like some es­pionage code, all formality and detail: |
7 |
| “You have been here long?” said Bertrand in fairly fluent English. |
7 |
| “ I only just arrived.” |
7 |
| “ I only just arrived.” |
7 |
| “And you will stay?” His milky blue eyes coaxed me. “A few days.” “You have been yet in Djerba?” The Island of the Lotus Easters; the |
7 |
| well ofOdysseus’ lost men. “I’m thinking about going there, yes.” |
7 |
| “ Don’t go. Too many hustlers, all rich hotels, it is horrible. You would not like it there.” |
7 |
| “Ah, corruption.” |
7 |
| “Ah, corruption.” |
7 |
| “ Be careful in the north, too — Bizerte—that is where some PLO went when they left Beirut. There is a camp there and they have stirred up much anti-American feeling." |
7 |
| I was amused at Bertrand’s concern for my safety, thinking foolishly that since I handily survived the streets of Naples, I was ready for anything. |
7 |
| “ I came here partly because my friends told me that palm wine is some­thing I should try,” I said. |
7 |
| “ Oh yes, by all means. But you must go into the oasis to try it, I think.” |
7 |
| “ I hear it is best in the mid-morning.” |
7 |
| “ I hear it is best in the mid-morning.” |
7 |
| “ No, it is the best in the evening, I think. It cannot be bottled, you know.” |
7 |
| na meneiB ecadnaC |
7 |
| “ So I heard. Tell me, what you are doing here?” The question need be asked only once. Bertrand spoke like a doctor, at first horrified and then inadver­tently fascinated by a lethal diagnosis he had made. |
8 |
| “ You have heard of khammessat, ‘the |
8 |
| 5th part’?” I confessed I had not. “This wine you wish to try, it comes |
8 |
| from the palm trees, yes? 300,000 in Nefta. Twenty-five varieties of the best dates are grown here. But you must un­derstand most of the landowners, they are inthe north. Most ofthem nevercome here. The people of Nefta, they are the farmers. Under khammessat they get to keep one-fifth of the dates harvested. For supplying land, water and tools the land­owner gets four-fifths.” Bertrand shrug­ged. “ It is a regressive, divisive system that keeps workers apart and landowners in power, I think. You were in Toz |
8 |
| “ Briefly.” |
8 |
| “You left quickly, that is good I think because over half the people in Tozeur are in the tourist business. Here, only 10 percent, at the most. Why? The dates, the palms, the oasis, the springs.” |
8 |
| Bertrand stopped abruptly but I could tell he would go on if I was quiet. It seemed he was suddenly drowning in his own moist eyes. “This is terrible, you know. These towns are dying. I study them for several years and I see it every time I come. This time, though, I have seen something else, something very frightening, I think. It is a report of the Ministry of Tourism. Perhaps 2,000 peo­ple a year come here now. They want to bring jumbo jets into Tozeur—a million people a year—and triple the number of lar |
8 |
| “ How can they do that? Do the towns­people know?” |
8 |
| “ No, how can they? They own no land, have no say, but will pay the price when it comes.” |
8 |
| ‘‘Khammessat.’’ |
8 |
| ‘‘Khammessat.’’ |
8 |
| ‘‘Khammessat and more. There is a family I stay with here. Today I talked to thegrandfatherandhesaid: ‘It wasjusta few years ago I rode my ass through the oasis, carrying pails in my hands, filling them as I went.’ Now you see all the irri­gation; the oasis is only calf-deep and the |
8 |
| ADVERTISE IN CSQ |
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| Nefta waterfall in the tourbooks—” |
8 |
| “ It’s in my book—” |
8 |
| “ It’s in my book—” |
8 |
| “—is gone.” |
8 |
| In effect, Bertrand said, the Tunisian government was planning to kill the very people and environment which they were counting on to bring in those tourists to save the economy. A perfect negative feedback loop of unregulated growth; a cultural tumor. |
8 |
| At this point in our gloomy conversa­tion a tall white apparition glided across the rough-hewn rock floor to the bar. He hung there, holding a long clay pipe and sending helices of smoke decorously into the heat. He was a remarkably tall, blond Westerner in a caftan and skullcap. Gold wire-rim glasses and a wispy blond beard playing about his cheeks and lips com­pleted the studious appearance. He be­gan to chat with the bartender in Arabic when Bertrand excused himself and ap­proached him. They were speakin |
8 |
| “You still wanted to taste palm wine?” He pointed with his chin. “Tonight he will take you into the oasis.” |
8 |
| ii\*T |
8 |
| ii\*T |
8 |
| 1/ 1/ ater is a thing of the past,” VV came the raspy whisper in a wreath of smoke through his parted lips. It was the first time he had spoken in my presence. Bertrand said I could call him Helmut, but that was not his real name. |
8 |
| We were standing on a barren rise looking down at the oasis, speckled here and there with the first fall of pale moon­light. Beyond, in a sharp line that defined the horizon, the border of life, was the great salt lake, the Chott Jerid. Helmut tapped his pipe, tipped his head, and we followed him down the slope. |
8 |
| Walking toward the lush thickening at desert’s edge just after sunset, watching the sky go ochre and violet above the sharp fingers of the trees, the distant bar­king of dogs grew ominous in our ears. As the darkness enveloped us, learning to trust our feet, not our eyes, we left the road to walk atop the low irrigation dikes criss-crossing the palm grove like scars. Having no flashlight, we followed the |
8 |
| "Y o u SEE THE PILES OF WHITE STONE? IT'SAN |
8 |
| ANCIENT CUSTOM. THE PEOPLE COLLECTED ENOUGH MONEY BETWEEN THEM TO BUY A COW, PERHAPS ONE A YEAR. AND THEY BROUGHT IT TO THESE ANCIENT PLACES, THEY SACRIFICED IT, THEY DIVIDED THE MEA T. T HESE ARE PLACES LEFT FROM PRE-ISLAMIC TIMES." |
8 |
| sound of our guide ’s quicken ed footsteps. Helmut’s caftan was as lumi­nescent as the Chott Jerid, drifting ahead of us through the foliage like a phantom. Bertrand shuffled behind him in his pastel Arabic motley, tailored by friends in Nefta that afternoon. |
8 |
| “Does he always wear white?” I whis­pered to Bertrand. |
8 |
| “It is the Moslem color of mourning,” he said quietly. “ He came here from Ger­many seven years ago. He lived here five years, then converted to Islam. Two years ago he left to fight with the PLO in Lebanon.” Bertrand paused as if allow­ing me to transform this blond young man in the immaculate white dress into a ner­vous, frenzied commando who knew that at any moment he could be facing people he would kill without mercy. |
8 |
| “ He was at Sabra and Shatila when the massacres happened. Hundreds of women and children slaughtered,” said Bertrand in a near whisper, as if the men­tion of it was enough to deflect us from our course. There was another long pause. We were still walking very quickly in the dark. “When he left Beirut, the PLO sent him here for some time to. .. rest.” |
8 |
| The dogs sounded our approach to the workers’ thatched hut and when we reached the small circle of men hunkered |
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| down at their evening meal, it was pitch black. The ancient was with us this April evening, as the moonlight was shattered and broken by the trees. I felt as though we might be the first humans to strike a spark or to work our grunts and hand signals into a rude language. |
8 |
| We shook outstretched hands and Helmut briefly introduced us in Arabic. Ragged, half-toothless smiles flickered around the circle. We squatted down, sit­ting back on our heels, and the workers offered us bread and tajine, the spicy stew of potatoes, peas, carrots and what­ever else was at hand. There was no fire; features were shrouded, but soon Helmut threw some palm fronds into the center of the circle and lit them. The flames danced up and threw shadow­giants on the walls of the forest around us. |
8 |
| After the tajine, one of the workers reached behind him and brought out an unfired clay jug, stoppered with coarse palm leaves. The way the weight of the bottle swung his hand told me he’d al­ready indulged. The jar was tipped on its side and liquid trickled out. |
8 |
| An amber substance, fermented in the tree itself and tapped like maple syrup. As fleeting as the lives of the workers who drank it were traditional. Best at mid-day |
8 |
| As THE CUP WAS PASSED AROUND I FELT SOMETHING RISE IN MY STOMACH, SOMETHING UNCOMFORTABLALIVE. IT WAS NOT A TIGHTENING IN ANTICIPATION OF THE WINE BUT A FEELING ARISING, A LENGTH OF XENOPHOBIC GUT EXCRETING QUEASY QUESTIONS ABOUT A WESTERNER PULLING A TRIGGER FOR THE |
9 |
| Y |
9 |
| PLO. |
9 |
| was what I was told, sweet and thick; by “ Bertrand says you are a Moslem. How evening it had grown stronger but was is it yo u conve rte d, fr om |
9 |
| — |
9 |
| — |
9 |
| still very smooth. Never bottled, always Lutheranism?” ing, good only for the day it was Helmut’s head turned slowly toward drawn. me and I felt as though in some una |
9 |
| ch |
9 |
| ang |
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| c­ |
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| As the cup was passed around I felt countable way I had, as if stepping out of mething rise in my stomach, some­a crowd, signalled my own destruction. thing uncomfortably alive. It was not a “Why did you become Moslem?” I tightening in anticipation of the wine but asked again, suddenly passing the cup |
9 |
| so |
9 |
| a feeling arising, a length of xenophobic to Bertrand. gut excreting queasy questions about a “ Discipline and pride are good things esterner pullinga triggerforthe PLO.A for a people, don’t you think?” he said |
9 |
| W |
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| young professor at the University of slowly in English. Munich gravely told me last year, “When I wished he had not answered. Now I you mention the work ‘nationalism’ to a felt compelled to go on, because the German it means something completely thought had leapt into being and now different to him than it does to you.” It must be uttered. Still, I phrased thintook no imagination to see the weight of carefully. recent history in the gaunt bones of “And you are with the PLO now?” Helmut’s face. I was afraid |
9 |
| gs |
9 |
| The cup mercifully came just then and “Tell me,” I said, taking another tack. I drank the twilight wine, sweet-gone-tart, “ Do you think the PLO has a chance? and held the taste like a primal, elemen­They can only win in the media, can’t tal moment. A deep-rooted aspiration they, not against the Israeli Army?” satisfied, to hold in my hands and my I felt Bertrand me and then mouth a moment of birth and death. Iwas his gaze shifting slowly to Helmut. creating my own religious rite and now “The Palestinian pe |
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| staring.at |
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| relied upon no one else. My very pres­arena of world opinion because the ence here was symptomatic of both this Zionists will be defeated both morally moment and this world’s undoing: and psychologically.” |
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| At that point my courage mercifully tion hovered about them both, db if they |
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| failed me. Given the fact that he was Ger­knew they were doomed. |
9 |
| man the next question seemed over­“And your name is?” |
9 |
| whelming, but I confess I feared any an­“ Don.” |
9 |
| swer Imightreceive.Ittook nothingat all, “Dan! That’s my husband’s name, |
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| the image clamoring up unbidden, to Dan, Daniel!” clapping her hands and |
9 |
| strip him of the white and put him in the squeaking, TV teeth flashing. “We are on |
9 |
| black of an SS uniform of not so very long our honeymoon.” She seemed mani­ |
9 |
| ago. acally happy, relentlessly breathless, |
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| as |
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| I sensed there was no danger; we were if the romance was just beginning. |
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| e neutral emotional territory. I was When Daniel sat down, she showed |
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| i |
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| n som |
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| still an abstract enemy, an American in |
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| me more snaps—this time of life in name only, and not a symbol of oppres­Beirut. Inside their apartmsion. I was momentarily returned to that like life anywhere—pristine, almost mythic state of being “ in­fore a vaninocent.” Such practical distinctions, of every-present cigarette, surprised ccourse, disappeared with the horror of ing out of the bathroom; grilling lamb on a Guernica, Dresden and Hiroshim a, brazier with friends on their shell-though we still protest and pretend it isn’t balcony. There were no |
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| off, |
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| shot |
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| outside, anywhere. Only in the far back­If I were to see him six months hence in ground, in the strethe gray, despairing light of an airport, |
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| et b |
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| elow |
9 |
| the |
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| balc |
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| ony, |
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| could I see the scars of destruction. In |
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| standing in the line for my plane, would I their photos their existence acknowledge him, greet him? Did I really hermetically-sealed, and now, mask-tobelieve that one recognizable face would mask, they attemhat he might be illusion of the indoors in their internal about to do? Would I notify authorities? lives. They had no choice. Smiling, nuz­Would I change my flight? zling one another like |
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| they put away the photos. |
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| “Will you go to Beirut?” they asked me. |
9 |
| “Will you go to Beirut?” they asked me. |
9 |
| he day I left Tunis to fly to Jerusa­“ I’ve considered it, but it might be too |
9 |
| T |
9 |
| dangerous for an Am erican,” I said |
9 |
| dangerous for an Am erican,” I said |
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| lem via Athens, I made the ac­ |
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| cauti |
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| “ Nonsense! Beirut is a beautiful city!” |
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| shared coffee in the echoing flight |
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| I bid them goodbye as my plane was called and I thought about them for |
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| lo |
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| ung |
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| e. |
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| He was tall, trim, solid, a policeman weeks afterwfrom Beirut dressed in a blue blazer. In a city where the gun and not the power of |
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| as |
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| her f |
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| inal |
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| ap­ |
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| even the uniform held sway, he was a dashing |
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| pearance in the bomb-wrecked streets of illusion of exhausted authority. In fact, he Beirulooked remarkably like Yves Montand |
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| t on |
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| Leb |
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| e TV |
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| circa 1968; that same rakish jawline and end-of-theI thought about them long after I world-weary Marlboro ever dangling from stop |
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| a light. calators and seaside bus trips up the Is­ |
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| His wife was terminally bourgeois, a raeli coast to Hbleached-blonde vamp plumped up in a fake leopardskin coat and gold-lame heels. She told me she was a nightclub |
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| aifa |
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| performer on Tunisian television, com­muting from Beirut. |
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| Writer Timothy Ryan lives in Seattle. This |
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| Writer Timothy Ryan lives in Seattle. This |
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| She pulled out snapshots—here she |
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| story is dedicated to his “writing and car­was on a stage; and another before the tooning collaborator of many years,” cameras, singing and dancing and heav­Jungkuntz, who died one year ago. ily made-up. An air of genteel despera­Artist Barbara Sekerka lives in Portland. |
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| Clinton St. Quarterly 9 |
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| Uam es Fenton, who was present at the fall ofSaigon, foundhimself drawn to The Phillipinesju st as President Marcos called a “snap election. ” Though disappointed to be there with the rest of the world press, Fenton pursued his own story and suddenly found himself a part of the most exciting chapter of recent Phillipine history. This |
10 |
| excerpt is from the tail of a much longer account which appeared in |
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| Granta 18, copyright ®1986, Granta Publications Ltd., 44a Hobson Street, Cambridge, England. Reprinted with permission. |
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| Maximum Tolerance |
10 |
| 1 J arcos,” said the taxi-man, “is in Guam.” “Bullshit,” I replied. “I saw him on the television late last night. About one-thirty. He can’t be already in Guam.” |
10 |
| “It was probably a recording,” said the taxi-man. He was the type I would normally have assumed to be working for the secret service. |
10 |
| “So where did you get this information?” |
10 |
| “Oh,” he said conspiratorially, “military sources.” |
10 |
| He tuned in to the rebel radio. Uncon­gently back down the street as a couple |
10 |
| firmed reports, said a voice, have it that of limousines came in through the gates. |
10 |
| Marcos has been seen arriving in Guam. Then a very confident journalist arrived |
10 |
| “I think we’d better go to Malacanang and said to the commanding officer: |
10 |
| as quickly as possible,” I said. “ General Ramos has called us to a press |
10 |
| The soldiers at the gates were wearing conference here. Perha |
10 |
| ps you wi |
10 |
| ll let us |
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| through.” The man let us through and |
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| white arm-bands. Journalists had been asking them what these were for, but the throsoldiers weren’ttalking. Everyone looked “Wfaintly shifty. I met an old colleague I’d |
10 |
| ugh we r |
10 |
| ushed. |
10 |
| hat was |
10 |
| that?” w |
10 |
| e asked |
10 |
| this fine |
10 |
| man. |
10 |
| last seen in Korea. “You’ve heard of “Oh,” he |
10 |
| said, “Im |
10 |
| ade it up. |
10 |
| Iwas just |
10 |
| rcos is already in bullshitting him. |
10 |
| cou |
10 |
| rse,” he |
10 |
| said, “ Ma |
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| Guam.” He had some more convincing |
10 |
| details. We asked the commanding of­ |
10 |
| ficer if we could come in. By now a small |
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| crowd had gathered and the soldiers |
10 |
| were getting nervous. They moved us |
10 |
| Something very odd was happening. Where the vegetable garden had been (it had been planted on Imelda’s instruc­tions, as part of some pet scheme), they were now laying a lawn. And the sculp­ture garden too—all the concrete statues were being smashed and carried away. The workers watched us as we passed. There were tanks by the next gate, and the security check was still in operation. “ It’s extraordinary, isn’t it,” someone said, “the way they keep going on as if nothing had happened. That platform— they mu |
10 |
| As we came through security, a voice began to speak over the public address. It was giving instructions to the military to confine itself to the use of small arms in dealing with attacks. It was outlining Mar­cos’s supposed policy of the whole elec­tion campaign—Maximum Tolerance. |
10 |
| “Whose voice is that?” I asked. |
10 |
| “ It’s Marcos. It must be a recording.” |
10 |
| We rpn up the grand staircase and turned right into the ante-room. And there sat Marcos himself, with Imelda and the family all around him,' and three or four generals to the right. They had chosen the ante-room rather than the main hall, for there were only a few jour­nalists and cameramen, and yesterday’s great array of military men was nowhere to be seen. I looked very closely at Mar­cos and thought: it isn’t him. It looked like |
10 |
| So m ebo dy asked Marcos whether he was going |
10 |
| to leave the country, “bio,” he said, “as you can see, we are all still here. ”And as he said these words he turned round to discover that there was absolutely nobody standing behind him. |
10 |
| ectoplasm. Likethe MightyMekon. Itwas talking in a precise and legalistic way, which contrived to sound both lucid and utterly nonsensical. It had its left hand under the table, and I watched the hand for a while to see whether it was being deliberately concealed. But it wasn’t. |
11 |
| So Marcos was still hanging on. In­deed he was back in his calm, lawyer’s frame of mind. I remember somebody asking him whether he was going to go ahead with his inauguration the next day, as planned. Marcos replied that it was his duty to do so, as laid down by the con­stitution. The inauguration had to take place ten days after the proclamation by the National Assembly. If he’d been pressed any further in the matter he would have started quoting acts and stat­utes. That part of his brain was function­ing |
11 |
| At first I felt embarrassed, as if I had been caught red-handed by Marcos, trespassing in the palace. Then I felt em­barrassed because, there being so few pressmen around, I might be expected to ask the president a question. And I |
11 |
| At first I felt embarrassed, as if I had been caught red-handed by Marcos, trespassing in the palace. Then I felt em­barrassed because, there being so few pressmen around, I might be expected to ask the president a question. And I |
11 |
| couldn’t think of a thing to ask. People hovered around the microphone, and whispered to each other, “ D’you want to go next?” Very few people did. One jour­nalist actually went to the side of the room, sat down and buried his head in his hands, as if overwhelmed by the irreality of the occasion. |
11 |
| General Ver was quivering and in an evident panic. He stepped forward and asked for permission to bomb Camp Crame. There were two government F-5 jets circling over it, he said. (Just outside the palace someone had told me that the crowd at Camp Crame appeared to think that these jets were on their side, for they cheered every time the aircraft came over.) Marcos told Ver they were not to be used. Ver’s panic increased. |
11 |
| “The air force, sir, is ready to attack were the civilians to leave the vicinity of Camp Crame immediately, Mr. President. That’swhy Icome here on yourorders so |
11 |
| “The air force, sir, is ready to attack were the civilians to leave the vicinity of Camp Crame immediately, Mr. President. That’swhy Icome here on yourorders so |
11 |
| we can immediately strike them. We have to immobilize the helicopters that they got.” (Marcos had sent helicopter gunships against the camp, but the pilots had come out waving white flags and joined the rebels.) |
11 |
| Marcos broke in with tired impatience, as if this had been going on all through the night and he was sick and tired of Ver. “ My order is not to attack. No, no, no. Hold on; not to attack.” |
11 |
| Ver was going wild. “Our negotiations and our prior dialogue have not suc­ceeded, Mr. President.” |
11 |
| Marcos: “All I can say is that we may have to reach the point we may have to employ heavy weapons, but you will use the small weapons in hand or shoulder weapons in the meantime.” |
11 |
| Ver said: “Our attack forces are being delayed.” |
11 |
| The Christian Science Monitor, at my elbow, said: “This is absurd. It’s a Mutt-and-Jeff act.” |
11 |
| Ver said: “There are many civilians |
11 |
| Ver said: “There are many civilians |
11 |
| Y )^ |
11 |
| near our troops, and we cannot keep on withdrawing. We cannot withdraw all the time, Mr. President.” |
11 |
| All this was being broadcast live on Channel Four, which Marcos could see on a monitor. Ver finally saluted, stepped backwards and left with the other of­ficers. I forget who they were, just as Marcos, when he introduced them to us, had forgotten all their names and needed prompting. Now the family withdrew as well. |
11 |
| An incident then occurred whose sig­nificance I didn’t appreciate at the time. The television began to emit white noise. A soldier stepped forward and fiddled with the knobs. The other channels were working, but Channel Four had been knocked off the air. The rebels had taken the government station, which Marcos must have realized. But he hardly batted an eyelid. It was as if the incident were some trivial disturbance, as if the televi­sion were simply on the blink. |
11 |
| For me, the most sinister moment of the morning had been when Marcos said that if the rebels continued they would |
11 |
| be chewed up by our roaming bands of loyal troops.” |
11 |
| Someone asked why the troops at the gate were wearing white arm-bands. They had said, he told Marcos, that it meant they would surrender to the rebels. |
11 |
| Marcos explained that this was not so. The arm-bands were a countersign. |
11 |
| A soldier in the audience said that the countersign was red, white and blue. |
11 |
| The questioner then said, “ No, these were plain white arm-bands.” |
11 |
| Marcos said, atrifle quickly, “The colo­urs are changed every day.” |
11 |
| Somebody asked him whether he was goingto leavethe country. “No,” hesaid, “as you can see, we are all still here.” And as he said these words he turned round to discover that there was abso­lutely nobody standing behind him. |
11 |
| Back to Malacanang |
11 |
| s I came within view of the pal­ace I saw that people were climbing over the railing, and just as I caught up with them a gate flew open. Everyone was pouring in and making straight for the old |
11 |
| looked very closely at Marcos and thought: it isn’t him. It looked like ectoplasm. It was talking in a precise and legalistic way, which contrived to sound both lucid and utterly nonsensical. |
11 |
| Budget Office. It suddenly occurred to me that very few of them knew where the palace itself was. Documents were flying out of the office and the crowd was mak­ing whoopee. I began to run. |
11 |
| One of the columnists had written a couple of days before that he had once asked his grandmother about the Revolu­tion of 1896. What had it been like? She had replied: “A lot of running.” So in his family they had always referred to those days as the Time of Running. It seemed only appropriate that, for the second time that day, I should be running through Im­elda’s old vegetable patch. The turf |
11 |
| Clinton St. Quarterly |
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| Clinton St. Quarterly |
11 |
| na meneiB e?<ad m |
11 |
| as de facto head of state. She could have |
12 |
| looked sorrier than ever. We ran over the |
12 |
| looked sorrier than ever. We ran over the |
12 |
| polystyrene boxes which had once con­tained the chicken dinners, past the sculpture garden, past where people were jumping up and down on the ar­moured cars, and up onto the platform from where we had watched Marcos on the balcony. Everyone stamped on the planks and I was amazed the whole structure didn’t collapse. |
12 |
| We came to a side entrance and as we crowded in I felt a hand reach into my back pocket. I pulled the hand out and slapped it.-The thief scurried away. |
12 |
| It seem ed to me that in every room Isaw, practically on every available surface, there was a signed photograph of Nancy Reagan. But this can hardly be literally true. |
12 |
| I couldn’t believe I would be able to find the actual Marcos apartments, and I knew there was no point in asking. We went up some servants’ stairs, at the foot of which I remember seeing an opened crate with two large green jade plates. |
12 |
| I couldn’t believe I would be able to find the actual Marcos apartments, and I knew there was no point in asking. We went up some servants’ stairs, at the foot of which I remember seeing an opened crate with two large green jade plates. |
12 |
| They were so large as to be vulgar. On the first floor a door opened, and we found ourselves in the great hall where the press conferences had been held. This was the one bit of the palace the crowd would recognize, as it had so often watched Marcos being televised from here. People ran and sat on his throne |
12 |
| It was absolutely possible to believe that, instead |
12 |
| ofjoining the revolution, Enrile and Ramos had hijacked it. And everyone was clearly still in the habit of believing in the genius of Marcos, however much they hated him. |
12 |
| and began giving mock press-con­ferences, issuing orders in his deep voice, falling about with laughter or just gaping at the splendour of the room. It was all fully lit. Nobody had bothered, as they left, to turn out the lights. |
12 |
| I remembered that the first time I had been here, the day after the election, Im­elda had slipped in and sat at the side. She must have come from that direction, I went to investigate. |
12 |
| And now, for a short while, I was away from the crowd with just one other per­son, a shy and absolutely thunderstruck Filipino. We had found our way, we real­ized, into the Marcoses’ private rooms. There was a library, and my companion gazed in wonder at the leather-bound vol­umes while I admired the collection of art books all carefully cataloged and with their numbers on the spines. This was the reference library for Imelda’s world­wide collection of treasures. She must have thumbed through them thinking: |
12 |
| I wish I could remember it all better. For |
12 |
| I wish I could remember it all better. For |
12 |
| instance, it seemed to me that in every |
12 |
| room I saw, practically on every available |
12 |
| surface, there was a signed photograph |
12 |
| of Nancy Reagan. But this can hardly be |
12 |
| literally true. It just felt as if there was a lot |
12 |
| of Nancy in evidence. |
12 |
| Another of the rooms had a grand |
12 |
| piano. I sat down. |
12 |
| “Can you play?” said my companion. |
12 |
| “A little,” I exaggerated. I can play |
12 |
| Bach's Prelude in C, and this is what I |
12 |
| proceeded to do, but my companion had |
12 |
| obviously hoped for something more |
12 |
| racy. The keys were stiff. I wondered if the |
12 |
| piano was brand new. |
12 |
| A soldier came in, carrying a rifle, |
12 |
| “ Please cooperate,” he said. The soldier |
12 |
| looked just as overawed by the place as |
12 |
| we were. We cooperated. |
12 |
| When I returned down the service |
12 |
| stairs, I noticed that the green jade plates |
12 |
| had gone, but there was still some Evian |
12 |
| water to be had. I was very thirsty, as it |
12 |
| happened. But the revolution had asked |
12 |
| me to cooperate. So I did. |
12 |
| Outside, the awe had communicated |
12 |
| itself to several members of the crowd. |
12 |
| They stood by the fountain looking down |
12 |
| at the coloured lights beneath the water, |
12 |
| not saying anything. I went to the parapet |
12 |
| and looked across the river. I thought: |
12 |
| somebody’s still fighting; there are still |
12 |
| some loyal troops. Then I thought: that’s |
12 |
| crazy—they can’t have started fighting |
12 |
| now. I realized that I was back in Saigon |
12 |
| yet again. There indeed there had been |
12 |
| fighting on the other side of the river. But |
12 |
| here it was fireworks. The whole city was |
12 |
| celebrating. |
12 |
| That Morning-After Feeling |
12 |
| Q |
12 |
| ^ ^ ittin g at our table was a politi­ |
12 |
| cian who had supported the Aquino cam­ |
12 |
| paign and who was now fuming: there |
12 |
| had been no consultation with the |
12 |
| UNIDO members of parliament about the |
12 |
| formation of the new cabinet. He himself, |
12 |
| he said, had told the Aquino supporters |
12 |
| that he did not want a job. But they would |
12 |
| find that they needed the cooperation of |
12 |
| the parliament to establish the legitimacy |
12 |
| of their new government. Parliament had |
12 |
| proclaimed Marcos president. Parlia­ |
12 |
| ment would therefore have to unproclaim |
12 |
| him before Cory could be de jure as well |
12 |
| a revolutionary, de facto government if she wanted. But in that case her power was dependent on the military. She would be vulnerable. The po litician was haunted by the fear that corrupt figures would again be put in key positions, and that the whole thing would turn out to have been some kind or sordid switch. The television announcers were congrat­ulating the nation on the success of Peo­ple’s Power. But all three of us at the table were wondering how real People’s Power was. |
12 |
| The previous night, Enrile had made a most extraordinary speech on the televi­sion. It had come in the form of a crude amateur video. It looked, in a way, like the plea of some kidnap victim, as if he were being forced to speak at gun-point. And what he had said was so strange that now, the morning after, I wondered whether I had dreamed it. So far I’d not met anyone else who had seen the broadcast. Enrile had begun, as far as I remember, by saying that Marcos was now in exile, and that he, Enrile, was sorr |
12 |
| The previous night, Enrile had made a most extraordinary speech on the televi­sion. It had come in the form of a crude amateur video. It looked, in a way, like the plea of some kidnap victim, as if he were being forced to speak at gun-point. And what he had said was so strange that now, the morning after, I wondered whether I had dreamed it. So far I’d not met anyone else who had seen the broadcast. Enrile had begun, as far as I remember, by saying that Marcos was now in exile, and that he, Enrile, was sorr |
12 |
| Clinton St. Quarterly |
12 |
| it did not do so. “And f<5r that alone, I would like to express my gratitude to the President. As officers and men of the Armed Forces of the Philippines, we want to salute him for that act of compassion and kindness that he extended to us all.” |
13 |
| I asked Helen and the politician whether they had heard this, and they hadn’t. By coincidence, at that very mo­ment, the television in the foyer broad­cast an extract from the speech. The pol­itician was shocked. “ He’s only been gone a few hours, and already the re­habilitation has begun.” |
13 |
| Ithen tried out my theory on the others. When I had woken that morning, the the­ory was there, fully formed, in my head. In a way I had been quite startled to find it there, so complete and horrible. The the­ory went like this. We had all assumed that Marcos was losing touch with reality. In fact he had not lost his marbles at all. He had seen that he had to go, and that the only way out for a dictator of his kind was exile. The point was to secure the succession. It could not go to General Ver, but Marcos |
13 |
| The theory explained why Marcos had shown himself, on the television, overrul­ing Ver. It explained why there had been so little actual fighting. And it explained the striking fact that no rebel troops had been brought anywhere near the palace until after Marcos had left. |
13 |
| I asked the politician what he thought, |
13 |
| I asked the politician what he thought, |
13 |
| and his first reaction was: “ It’s too clever.” |
13 |
| But then you could see the theory, with all |
13 |
| its ramifications, getting a grip on him, |
13 |
| until he said: “My God, I hope you’re |
13 |
| wrong.” Helen was prepared to believe |
13 |
| the theory. When I put it to Fred, he |
13 |
| brooded over it darkly. His own theory |
13 |
| that day was slightly different. “ It was |
13 |
| scripted,” he said, “the whole thing was |
13 |
| scripted by social scientists.” His idea |
13 |
| was that this was a copy-book peaceful |
13 |
| revolution designed to be held up to other |
13 |
| countries all around the world in order to |
13 |
| dissuade people from taking up armed |
13 |
| struggle. |
13 |
| One way or another, the people I met |
13 |
| One way or another, the people I met |
13 |
| the day after Marcos left were incapable |
13 |
| of trusting the reality of the events they |
13 |
| had witnessed. Not all of them believed |
13 |
| the theory, but very few of them could |
13 |
| muster a concrete argument against it. It |
13 |
| was absolutely possible to believe that, |
13 |
| instead of joining the revolution, Enrile |
13 |
| and Ramos had hijacked it. And every­ |
13 |
| one was clearly still in the habit of believ­ |
13 |
| ing in the genius of Marcos, however |
13 |
| ing in the genius of Marcos, however |
13 |
| much they hated him. |
13 |
| Of course by now it looks different. We |
13 |
| know that the flight of Marcos could not |
13 |
| have been a clever fix, because the ques­ |
13 |
| tion of Marcos’s wealth was obviously so |
13 |
| badly botched. But still one could argue |
13 |
| badly botched. But still one could argue |
13 |
| that the theory contains a core of |
13 |
| atavistic truth. We know that Enrile, after |
13 |
| atavistic truth. We know that Enrile, after |
13 |
| he joined Cory’s camp, continued to |
13 |
| think of Marcos as President. We know |
13 |
| he felt he had to make a tribute to Mar­ |
13 |
| he felt he had to make a tribute to Mar­ |
13 |
| cos’s “compassion and kindness.” |
13 |
| The son saw that he had to kill the |
13 |
| father. The father saw the son preparing |
13 |
| to kill him. And he knew that this was |
13 |
| inevitable. He knew that he had to die. |
13 |
| Artist Margaret Chodos-lrvine lives in Seat­tle. She recently illustrated Ursula LeGuin’s book Always Coming Home. |
13 |
| FILM SCHEDULE |
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| FILM SCHEDULE |
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| Sunday Films |
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| 11/23 The Last Picture Show 11/30 Starman 12/7 A Streetcar Named Desire 12/14 Superman 12/21 Psycho 12/28 African Queen 1/4 Repo Man 1/11 The Razor’s Edge 1/18 Rear Window 1/25 Seven Percent Solution 2/1 Midnight Express 2/8 The Right Stuff 2/15 Performance 2/22 Joe |
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| CONFERENCES: Many different kinds of conferences & workshops are already scheduled for the next year. There is live dance music on cross-country ski weekends (New Year’s, Jan 2325, Feb. 27-March 1). Meditation, Women’s rituals, Health retreats. |
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| BREITENBUSH: A CONCERT TO SAVE THE FOREST |
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| Many of the songs were written around the theme of preserving & honoring the old-growth forests. The musicians &sound engineers donated their efforts so proceeds from sales will go to the Old Growth Forest Defense Fund. Send $15 & $2 postage. |
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| 1026 SW Morrison Portland, OR 97205 (503)224-9629 |
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| 3934 SW CORBETT AVE PORTLAND OR 97201 503 223 2654 |
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| “As athree-dimensionalmedium, metallendsitself perfectly to all other media. I encourage students to apply the concepts, imagery and technical skills they acquire in the Metal Department to other materials anCHRISTINE CLARK |
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| REGISTER NOW FOR WINTER TERM! Classes begin January 12. Call for class'schedule: 297-5544 BeginnersTwelcome. College Credit/Degree Program Available. 10minutes from downtown Portland. 8245 SW Barnes Road |
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| 15 15 S.E. 3 7th AVENUE |
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| PORTLAND, OREGON 97214 |
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| 5 03 -2 3 1-1 9 9 9 |
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| Portland Center for the Visual Arts presents |
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| Wednesday, December 3rd, 8 pm |
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| Non -Members $8 • Members of PCVA $6 |
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| Derkatsch and Kassen in |
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| OPERA POVERA |
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| Friday & Saturday, December 5, 6 at 8 pm |
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| Non -Members $6 • Members of PCVA $5 |
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| PCVA 117 NW 5th Ave ., 3rd flo or . 222 -7107 |
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| 206SWStarkStreet 709 NW23rd 115StewartStreet Portland Portland Seattle 221-0258 224-1294 448-8508 |
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| A Portland Tradition Since 1972 |
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| From your first pregnancy until your youngest goes Bicycle Science offto school . . . |
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| 400 SW2nd 242-0057 |
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| Hours: Mon-Fri 11-6/Th 11-7/Sat 11-5 |
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| 3734 S.E. Hawthorne Portland, OR • 232-0167 |
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| OPEN TUES-FRI 10AM-5:30PM SAT 11AM-5PM |
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| FIDDLING FOR WATER BUFFALOES |
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| FIDDLING FOR WATER BUFFALOES |
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| skill at weaving dried palm leaves, but as |
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| skill at weaving dried palm leaves, but as |
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| the beauty contest. Now there was a J. |
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| I/ I/ henmybrotherLekandIwerechildren wewereonlyallowedtogo to V V Prasongburi once a week. That was the day our mothers went to the marketplace and to make merit at the temple. Our grandmother, our mothers’ mother, spent the days chewing betel nut and fashioning intricate mobiles out of driedpalmleaves;notjustthe usualfishshapes, dozensof tinybabyfishswinging from a big mother fish lacquered in bright red or orange, but also more elaborate shapes: lions and tigers and mythical beasts, nagas that swallowed |
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| lock up at night, just like the ones in Bangkok. |
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| It was always difficult to get him to take the ones that weren’t fish. Once we took in a mobile made entirely of spaceships, which our grandmother had copied from one of the American TV shows. (In view of our later experiences, this proved partic­ularly prophetic.) “ Everyone knows," the thaokae said (that was the time he admit­ted us to his inner sanctum, where he would smoke opium from an impressive bong and puff it in our faces) “that a plataphien mobile has fish in it. Everyone wants sweet little fishie |
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| That was when my brother Lek said to me, “You know, Noi, I think it would be grand to be a movie dubber.” |
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| “That’s silly, Phii Lek,” I said. “Some­one has to herd the water buffaloes and sell the mobiles and—” |
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| “That’s what we both should do. So we don’t have to work on the farm anymore.” Our mothers, who were rowing the boat, pricked up their ears at that. Something to report back to our father, perhaps. “We could live in the town. I love that town.” |
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| “ It’s not so great,” my mother said. My senior mother (Phii Lek’s mother) agreed. “WewenttoChiangmai once,for |
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| with rain. It was fuzzy and the sound was off, so Phii Lek put on a magnificent per­formance, putting discreet obscenities into the mouths of Kirk and Spock while the old men laughed and the coils of mos­quito incense smoked through the humid evening. At night, when we were both tucked in under our mosquito netting, I dreamed about going into space and finding my grandmother’s palm-leaf mobiles hanging from the point of the stars. |
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| m |
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| f |
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| f |
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| en years later they built a highway from Bangkok to Chiangmai, |
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| - |
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| both knew that live movie dubbing was a dying art. Only the fact that the highway didn’t come anywhere near Prasongburi prevented its citizens from positively de­manding talkies. But we were young and, relatively speaking, wealthy; we wanted to have a bit of fun before the drudgery of marriage and earning a real living was thrust upon us. Lek did most of the dub­bing—he was astonishingly convincing at female voices as well as male—while I contributed the sound effects and played background music from the li |
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| Since we two were the only purveyors |
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| of, well, foreign culture in the town, you’d |
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| of, well, foreign culture in the town, you’d |
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| far as the tourists are concerned, it’s just |
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| fiddling for water buffaloes.” He meant |
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| there was no point in doing such fine |
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| Those spaceships are a tribute to your |
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| work because it would be wasted on his |
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| think we would be the ones best |
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| equipped to deal with an alien invasion. |
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| Apparently, the aliens thought so too. |
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| Aliens were farthest from my mind the |
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| customers. |
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| grandmother’s skill at weaving dried palm |
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| We ended up with maybe ten baht |
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| day it happened, though. I was putting in |
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| some |
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| leaves, but as far as the tourists are concerned, it’s just fiddling for water buffaloes. ” |
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| apiece for my grand |
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| mother’s labors, and |
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| time at the shop and trying to |
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| time at the shop and trying to |
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| pacify my three honored parents, who |
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| pacify my three honored parents, who |
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| we’d carefully tuck away two of the little |
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| were going at it like cats and dogs in the |
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| blue banknotes (this was in the year 2504 |
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| back. |
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| B.E., long before they debased the baht |
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| “ If you dare bring that bitch into our |
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| town. Streets that wind on and on.. .and and there were no more casual tourists in house,” Elder Mother was saying, fan­ |
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| town. Streets that wind on and on.. .and and there were no more casual tourists in house,” Elder Mother was saying, fan­ |
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| into a mere coin) so that we could go to |
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| the movies. The American ones were fun­ |
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| niest—especially the James Bond ones—because the dubbers had the most outrageous ad libs. I remember that in Goldfinger the dubbers kept putting in jokes about the fairy tale of Jao Ngo, which is about a hideous monster who falls into a tank of gold paint and be­comes very handsome. The audience became so wild with laughter that they actually stormed the dubbers’ booth and started improvising their own puns. I par­ticularly remember that day because we were waiting for the monsoon to burst, and the heat had |
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| Seconds after we left the theater it came all at once, and the way home was so impassable we had to stay at the vil­lage before our village, and then we had to go home by boat, rowing frantically by the side of the drowned road. The fish were so thick you could pull them from the water in handfuls. |
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| air conditioning in almost every public building!” |
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| “We didn’t win the beauty contest, though,” my mother said sadly. She didn’t say it, but she implied that that was how they’d both ended up marrying my father. “Our stars were bad. Maybe in my next life— ” |
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| “ I’m not waiting till my next life,” my brother said. “When I’m grown up they’ll have air conditioning in Prasongburi, and I’ll be dubbing movies every night.” |
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| The sun was beating down, blinding, sizzling. We threw off our clothes and dived from the boat. The water was cool, mud-flecked; we pushed our way through the reeds. |
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| The storm had blown the village’s TV antenna out into the paddy field. We watched Star Trek at the headsman’s house, our arms clutching the railings on his porch, our feet dangling, slipping against the stilts that were still soaked |
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| The storm had blown the village’s TV antenna out into the paddy field. We watched Star Trek at the headsman’s house, our arms clutching the railings on his porch, our feet dangling, slipping against the stilts that were still soaked |
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| Prasongburi. Some American archae­ologists started digging at the site of an old Khmer city nearby. The movie theater never got air conditioning, but my grand­mother did become involved in faking an­tiques; it turned out to be infinitely more lucrative than fish mobiles, and when the thaokae died, she and my two mothers were actually able to buy the place from his intransigent nephew. The three of them turned it into an “antique” place (fakes in the front, the few genuine pieces carefully hoarded in the air |
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| My family were also able to buy a half­interest in the movie theater, and that was how my brother and I ended up in the dubbing booth after all. Now, the fact of the matter was, sound projection sys­tems in theaters had become prevalent all over the country by then, and Lek and I |
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| My family were also able to buy a half­interest in the movie theater, and that was how my brother and I ended up in the dubbing booth after all. Now, the fact of the matter was, sound projection sys­tems in theaters had become prevalent all over the country by then, and Lek and I |
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| ning herself feverishly with a plastic fan—for our air conditioning had broken down, as usual— “I’ll leave.” |
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| “Well,” Younger Mother (my own) said, “I don’t mind as long as you make sure she’s a servant. But if you marry her—” |
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| “Well,/mind, I’m telling you!” my other mother shouted. “ If the two of us aren’t enough for you, I’ve three more cousins up north, decent, hardworking girls who’ll bring in money, not use it up.” |
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| “Anyway, if you simply have to spend money,” Younger Mother said, “What’s wrong with a new pickup truck?” |
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| “ I’m not dealing with that usurious thaokae in Ban Kraduk,” my father said, taking another swig of his Mekong whis­key, and “and there’s no other way of coming up with a down payment. . and besides, I happen to be a very horny man.” |
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| “All of you shut up,” my grandmother said from somewhere out back, where |
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| na meneiB ecadnaC |
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| she had been meticulously aging some pots into a semblance of twelfth-century Sawankhalok ware. “All this chatter dis­turbs my work.” |
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| she had been meticulously aging some pots into a semblance of twelfth-century Sawankhalok ware. “All this chatter dis­turbs my work.” |
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| “Yes, klun mae," the three of them cho­rused back respectfully. My Elder Mother hissed, “ But watch out, my dear hus­band. I read a story in Siam Rath about a woman who castrated her unfaithful hus­band and fed his eggs to the ducks!” |
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| My father sucked in his breath and took a comforting gulp of whiskey as I went to the front to answer a customer. |
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| She was one of those archaeologists or anthropologists or something. She was tall and smelly, as all farangs are (they have very active sweat glands); she wore a sort of safari outfit, and she had long hair, stringy from her digging and the humidity. She was scrutinizing the spaceship mobile my grandmother had made ten years ago—it still had not sold, and we had kept it as a memento of hard times—and muttering to herself words that sounded like, “Warp factor five!” |
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| My brother and I know some English, and I was preparing to embarrass myself by exercising that ungrateful, toneless tongue, when she addressed me in Thai. |
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| “Greetings to you, honored sir,” she said, and brought her palms together in a clumsy but heartfelt wai. I couldn’t sup­press a laugh. “Why, didn’t I do that right?” she demanded. |
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| “You did it remarkable well,” I said. “ But you shouldn’t go to such lengths. I’m only a shopkeeper, and you’re not supposed to wai first. But I suppose I shouldgiveyou ‘Eforeffort’ Isaidthis phrase in her language, having learned it from another archaeologist the previous year— “since few would even try as hard as you.” |
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| “Oh, but I’m doing my Ph.D. in South­east Asian aesthetics at UCLA,” she said. “By all means, correct me.” She started to pull out a notebook. |
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| I had never, as we say, “arrived” in America, though my sexual adventures had recently included an aging, over­whelmingly odoriferous Frenchwoman and the daughter of the Indian babu who sold cloth in the next town, and the pros­pect suddenly seemed rather inviting. Emboldened, I said, “ But to really study |
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| ' our culture, you might consider— ” and eyed her with undisguised interest. She laughed. Farang women are ex­ceptional, in that one need not make overtures to them subtly, but may ap­proach the matter in a non-nonsense fashion, as a plumber might regard a sewage pipe. “Jesus,” she said in En­glish, “ I think he’s asking me for a date!” “I understood that,” I said. “Where will we go?” she said in Thai, giggling. “ I’ve got the day off. And the night, I might add. Oh that’s not correct, is it? You should sen |
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| 8025 S.E. 17th Avenue 235-9419 |
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| 8025 S.E. 17th Avenue 235-9419 |
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| Open Mon.-Sat. 10-6 |
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| air conditioning? Think of the glorious field notes you could write.” |
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| “You Thai men are all alike,” she said, intimating that she had had a vast experi­ence of them. “Very well. What time? By the way, my name is Mary, Mary Mason.” |
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| I / I / e were an hour late getting |
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| |r V the show started, which was pretty normal, and the audience was get­ting so restless that some of them had started an impromptu bawdy-rhyming contest in the front rows. My brother and I had manned the booth and were study­ing the script. He would do all the main characters, and I would do such meaty roles as the Second Storm Trooper. |
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| “ Let’s begin,” Phii Lek said. “ She won’t come anyway.” |
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| “ Let’s begin,” Phii Lek said. “ She won’t come anyway.” |
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| Mary turned up just as we were lower­ing the house lights. She had bathed (my brother sniffed appreciatingly as she en­tered the dubbing booth) and wore a clean sarong, which did not look too bad on her. |
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| “Can I do Princess Leia?” she said, waf-ing to Phii Lek, as though she were already his younger sibling by virtue of her as-yet-unconsummated association |
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| “Can I do Princess Leia?” she said, waf-ing to Phii Lek, as though she were already his younger sibling by virtue of her as-yet-unconsummated association |
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| “Can I do Princess Leia?” she said, waf-ing to Phii Lek, as though she were already his younger sibling by virtue of her as-yet-unconsummated association |
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| down hastily just as my brother (in the tones of the heroic Princess Leia) was supposed to murmur, “ Help me, Obiwan Kenobi. You’re my only hope.” Instead, he began to moan like a harlot in heat, screeching out, “Oh, Ineed aman, Ido, I do! These robots are no good in bed!” |
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| At that point Mary became hysterical with laughter. She fell out of her chair and collided with the shoe rack. I hastened to rescue her from the indignity of having her face next to a stack of filthy flipflops, and could not prevent myself from grab­bing her. She put her arms around my waist and indecorously refused to let go, while my brother, warming to the audi­ence reaction, began to ad-lib ever more outrageously. |
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| It was only after the movie, when I had put on the 45 of the Royal Anthem and everyone had stood up to pay homage to the Sacred Majesty of the King, that I noticed something wrong with my brother. For one thing, he did not rise in respect, even though he was ordinarily the most devout of people. He sat bunched up in a corner of the dubbing booth, with his eyes darting from side to side like window wipers. |
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| I watched him anxiously but dared not move until the Royal Anthem had |
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| knew the days oflive movie dubbing were numbered. Maybe I could go to Bangkok and get ajob withChannelSeven, dubbing Leave it to Beaver and Charlie’s Angels. |
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| I |
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| with me. “You can read Thai?” Phii Lek said in astonishment. |
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| with me. “You can read Thai?” Phii Lek said in astonishment. |
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| “I have my master’s in Siamese from Michigan U,” she said huffily, “and stud­ied under Bill Gedney.” We shrugged. |
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| “Yes, but you can’t improvise,” my brother said. |
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| She agreed, pulled out her notebook, and sat down in a corner. My brother started to put on a wild performance, while I ran hither and thither putting on records and creating sound effects out of my box of props. We began the opening chase scene with Tchaikovsky’s Piano Concerto, which kept skipping; at last the* needle got stuck and I turned the volume |
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| She agreed, pulled out her notebook, and sat down in a corner. My brother started to put on a wild performance, while I ran hither and thither putting on records and creating sound effects out of my box of props. We began the opening chase scene with Tchaikovsky’s Piano Concerto, which kept skipping; at last the* needle got stuck and I turned the volume |
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| finished playing. |
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| Then, tentatively, I tapped him on the shoulder. “ Phii Lek,” I said, “ it’s time we went home.” |
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| Then, tentatively, I tapped him on the shoulder. “ Phii Lek,” I said, “ it’s time we went home.” |
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| He turned on me and snarled. . .then he fell on the floor and began dragging himself forward in a very strange manner, propelling himself with his chin and elbows along the woven-rush matting at our feet. |
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| Mary said, “ Is that something worth reporting on?” and began scribbling wildly in her notebook. |
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| “ Phii Lek,” I said to my brother in terms of utmost respect, for I thought he might be punishing me for some imagined grievance, “are you ill?” Suddenly, I |
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| deavu* |
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| _ deca, Muueau, . the. tteUr^ue! |
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| jet, O ld SelLuMod 7738 SC 13th 230-0418 |
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| Marv Jane Haake (503) 224-8416 |
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| 1017 SW Morrison Suite 205 Portland, OR 97205 |
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| thought I had it figured out. “If you’re playing ‘putting on the anthropologists,’ Elder Sibling, I don’t think this one’s going to be taken in.” |
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| thought I had it figured out. “If you’re playing ‘putting on the anthropologists,’ Elder Sibling, I don’t think this one’s going to be taken in.” |
18 |
| “You are part of a rebel alliance, and a traitor!” my brother intoned—in En­glish—in a harsh, unearthly voice. “Take her away!” |
18 |
| “That’s .. .my God, that’s James Earl Jones’s voice,” Mary said, forgetting in herconfusion tospeakThai. “That’sfrom the movie we just saw.” |
18 |
| “What are we going to do?” I said, panicking. My older brother was crawling around at my feet, making me feel dis­tinctly uncomfortable, because of the el­evation of my head over the head of a person of higher status, so I dropped down on my hands and knees so as to maintain my head at the properly re­spectful level. Meanwhile, he was wrig­gling around on his belly. |
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| Amid all this, Mary’s notebook and pens clattered to the floor and she began to scream. |
18 |
| At that fnoment, my grandmother en­tered the booth and stared about wildly. I attempted, from my prone position, to perform the appropriate wai, but Phii Lek was rolling around and making peculiar hissing noises. Mary started to stutter, “Khunyaai, I don’t know what happened, they just suddenly started acting this way—” |
18 |
| “ Don’t you khun yaai me,” my grand­mother snapped. “I’m no kin to any for­eigners, thank you!” She surveyed the spectacle before her with mounting hor­ror. “Oh, my terrible karma!” she cried. “ Demons have transformed my grand­sons into dogs!” |
18 |
| On the street, there were crowds every­where. I could hear people babbling about mysterious lights in the sky. . .portents and celestial signs. Someone said something about the spectacle out­side being more impressive than the Star Wars effects inside the theater. Appar­ently, the main pagoda of the temple had seemed on fire for a few minutes and they’d called in a.fire-fighting squad from the next town. -“Who’d have thought of it?” my grandmother was complaining. “ A demon visits Prasongburi— and makes str |
18 |
| - |
18 |
| When we got to the shop—Mary still tagging behind and furiously taking notes on our social customs—the situa­tion was even worse. The skirmish be­tween my father and mothers had crescendoed to an all-out war. |
18 |
| - |
18 |
| “That’s why I came to fetch you, chil­dren,” my grandmother said. “Maybe you can referee this boxing match.” A hefty celadon pot came whistling through the air and shattered on the over­head electric fan. We scurried for cover, all except my brother, who obliviously crawled about on his hands and knees, occasionally spouting lines from Star Wars. |
18 |
| Shrieking, Mary ran after the pot­shards. “My god, that thing’s eight hun­dred years old—” |
18 |
| “ Bah! I faked it last week,” my grand­mother said, forcing the farang woman to gape in mingled horror and admiration. |
18 |
| “All right, all right,” my father said, fleeing from the back room with my moth­ers in hot pursuit. “ I won’t marry her |
18 |
| - |
18 |
| . . . but I want a little more kindness out of the two of you. .. oh, my terrible karma.” |
18 |
| He tripped over my brother and went sprawling to the floor. “What’s wrong with him?” |
18 |
| LIDA CARR OLLBKUR TZBENER GYBTRANS FORMATIO NB503B2 87■ 1720 |
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| READINGS CLASSES |
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| “ You fool!” my grandmother said. “Your own son has become possessed by demons. . .and it's all because of your sexual excesses.” |
19 |
| My father stopped and stared at my brother. Then murmuring a brief prayer to the Lord Buddha, he retired, cowering behind the shop counter. "What must I do?” |
19 |
| His wives came marching out behind him. Elder Mother hastened to succor Phii Lek. Younger Mother took in the sit­uation and said, “ I haven’t seen anyone this possessed since my cousin Phii Daeng spent the night in a graveyard try­ing to get a vision of a winning lottery ticket number.” |
19 |
| “It’s all your fault,” Phii Lek’s mother |
19 |
| “It’s all your fault,” Phii Lek’s mother |
19 |
| said, turning wrathfully on my father. “You’re all too eager to douse your staff of passion, and now my son has been turned into a monster!” The logic of this accusation escaped me, but my father seemed convinced. |
19 |
| “ I’ ll go and buat phra for three months,” he said, affecting a tone of deep piety. “I’ll cut my hair off tomorrow and enter the nearest monastery. That ought to do the trick. Oh, my son, my son, what have I done?” |
19 |
| “Well,” my grandmother said, “ a little abstinence should do you good. I always thought you were unwise not to enter the monkhood at twenty like an obedient son should. . .cursing me to be reborn on earth instead of spending my next life in heaven as I ought, considering how I’ve worked my fingers to the bone for you! It's about time, that's what I say. A twenty year old belongs in a temple, not in the village scouts killing communists. Time for that when you’ve done your filial du­ |
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| 00000 |
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| 00000 |
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| FASHION MINISTRY |
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| FASHION MINISTRY |
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| FASHION MINISTRY |
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| ty. . .well, twenty-five years late is better than nothing.” |
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| Seeing himself trapped between sev­eral painful alternatives, my father bowed his head, raised his palms in a gesture of respect, and said, “All right, khun mae yaai, if that’s what you want.” |
19 |
| I / I / hen my father and the VV older females of the family had gone to pack his things, I was left |
19 |
| with my older brother and the bizarre American woman, in the antique shop in the middle of the night. They had taken the truck back to the village (which now boasted a good half-dozen motor vehi­cles, one of them ours) and we were stranded. In the heat of their argument and my father’s repentance, they seemed to have forgotten all about us. |
19 |
| It was at that moment that my brother chose to snap out of whatever it was that possessed him. |
19 |
| Calmly, he rose from the floor, wiped a few foam flecks from his mouth with his sleeve, and sat down on the stool behind the counter. It took him a minute or two to recognize us, and then he said “Well, well, Ai Noil I gave the family quite a scare, didn’t I?” |
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| I was even more frightened now than I |
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| I was even more frightened now than I |
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| I was even more frightened now than I |
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| had been before. I knew very well that night is the time of spirits, and I was com­pletely convinced that some spirit or an­other had taken hold of Phii Lek, though I was unsure of the part about my father being punished for his roving eyes and hands. I said, “Yes, Khun Phii, it was the most astonishing performance I’ve ever seen. Indeed, a bit too astonishing, if you don’t mind your Humble Younger Sibling saying so. I mean, do you think they really appreciated it? If you ask me, you were just fiddling for |
19 |
| “ The most amazing th ing is this. . .they weren’t even after me!” He pointed at Mary. “They’re in the wrong brain! It was her they wanted. But we all look alike to them. And I was imitating a woman’s voice when they were trying to get a fix on the psychic transference. So they made an error of a few decimal places, and—poof!—here |,am!” |
19 |
| Pen baa pai laew\" I whispered to |
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| Pen baa pai laew\" I whispered to |
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| Mary Mason. |
19 |
| “I heard that!” my brother riposted. |
19 |
| “I heard that!” my brother riposted. |
19 |
| “ But I am not mad. I am quite, quite sane, |
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| and I have been taken over by a manus |
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| tang dao." |
19 |
| What's that?” Mary asked me. |
19 |
| What's that?” Mary asked me. |
19 |
| A being from another star.” |
19 |
| Far frigging out! An extraterrestrial!" |
19 |
| she said in English. Ididn’t understand a word of it; I thought it must be some kind of anthropology jargon. |
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| “ Look, I can’t talk long, but. . .you see, they’re after Mary. One of them is trying to send a message to Am er­ica. . .something to do with the Khmer ruin s.. .some kind of artifac t.. .to an­other of these creatures who is walking around in the body of a professor at UCLA. This farang woman seemed ideal; she could journey back without causing any suspicion. But, you see, we all look alike to them, and—” |
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| “Well, can’t you tell whatever it is to stop inhabiting your body and transfer itself to—?” |
19 |
| “ Hell, no!” Mary said, and started to back away. “ Native customs are all very well, but this is a bit more than I bar­gained for.” |
19 |
| “Psychic transference too difficult. ..additional expenditure of energy im­practical at present stage. .. but mes­sage must get through. . .. ” Suddenly, he clawed at his throat for a few mo­ments, and then fell writhing to the floor inanotherfit. “Can’tgetusedtothis grav­ity,” he moaned. “ Legs instead of pseudopods—and the contents of the stomach make me sick—there’s at least fifty whole undigested chilies down here—oh, I’m going to puke—” |
19 |
| - |
19 |
| “ By Buddha, Dharma and Sangkha!” I cried. “ Quick, Mary, help me with him. Give me something to catch his vomit.” |
19 |
| “Will this do?” she said, pulling down something from the shelf. Distractedly, I motioned her to put it up to his mouth. |
19 |
| Only when he had begun regurgitating into the bowl did I realize what she’d |
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| Only when he had begun regurgitating into the bowl did I realize what she’d |
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| done. “You imbecile!” I said. “That’s a |
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| genuine Ming spittoon!” |
19 |
| “ I thought they were all fakes,” she |
19 |
| “ I thought they were all fakes,” she |
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| said, holding up my brother as he slowly |
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| turned green. |
19 |
| “We do have some genuine items here,” I said disdainfully, “for those who can tell the difference.” |
19 |
| “You mean, for Thai collectors,” she |
19 |
| said, hurt. |
19 |
| “Well, what can you expect?” I said, becoming furious. “You come here, you dig up all our ancient treasures, violate the chastity of our women— ” |
19 |
| “Lookwho’stalking!” Mary said gently. |
19 |
| “ Male chauvinist pig,” she added in |
19 |
| English. |
19 |
| “Let’s notfight,” Isaid. “Heseems bet­ter now. . . . What are we going to do with him?” |
19 |
| “ Here. Help me drag him to the back room.” We lifted him up and laid him down on the couch. |
19 |
| We looked at each other in the close, humid, mosquito-infested room. Sud­denly, providentially almost, the air con­ditioning kicked on. “ I’ve been trying to get it to work all day,” I whispered. |
19 |
| “Does this mean— ” |
19 |
| “Yes! Soon it will cool enough to—” |
19 |
| She kissed me on the lips. By morning I had “arrived” in America several deli­cious times, and Mary was telephoning the hotel in Ban Kraduk so she could get her things moved into my father’s house. |
19 |
| I he next morning, over dinner, I |
19 |
| I he next morning, over dinner, I |
19 |
| tried to explain it all to my elders. On the one hand there was this farang woman sitting on the floor, clumsily roll­ing rice balls with one hand and attempt­ing to address my mothers as khun mae, much to their discomfiture; on the other there was the mystery of my brother, who was now confined to his room and re­fused to eat anything with any chilies in it. |
19 |
| “ It’s your weird western ways,” my grandmother said, eyeing my latest con­quest critically. “ No chilies indeed! He’ll be demanding hamburgers next.” |
19 |
| “ It’s nothing to do with western ways,” I said. |
19 |
| “ It’s a manus tang dao," Mary said, proudly displaying her latest lexical gem, “ and it’s trying to get a message to Amer­ica, and there’s some kind of artifact in the ruins that they need, and they travel by some kind of psychic transference— ” |
19 |
| “ You Americans are crazy!” my grand­mother said, spitting out her betel nut so she could take a few mouthfuls of curried fish. “Any fool can see the boy’s pos­sessed. I remember my great-uncle had fits like this when he promised a donation of five hundred baht to the Sacred Pillar of the City and then reneged on his offer. My parents had to pay off the Brahmins— with interest!—before the curse was lifted. Oh, my karma, my karma!” |
19 |
| “ Shouldn't we call in some scientists, or something? A psychiatrist?” Mary said. |
19 |
| “Nothing of the sort!” said my grand­mother. “ If we can’t take care of this in the home, we’ll not take care of it at all. No one’s going to say my grandson is crazy. Possessed, maybe. . everyone can sympathize withthat... but crazy, never! The family honor is at stake.” |
19 |
| “Well, what should we do?” Isaidhelp­lessly. As the junior member of the family, |
19 |
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19 |
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19 |
| I had no say in the matter at all. I was annoyed at Mary for mentioning psychia­trists, but I reminded myselfthatshe was, after all, a barbarian, even though she could speak a human tongue after a fashion. |
20 |
| “We’ll wait,” my grandmother said, “and see whether your father’s penance will do the trick. If not.. well, our stars are bad, that’s all.” |
20 |
| I J' uring the weeks to come, my |
20 |
| * ^bro the r became increasingly |
20 |
| odd. He would enter the house without even removing his sandals, let alone washing his feet. When my Uncle Eed came to dinner one night, my brother actually pointed his left foot at our hon­ored uncle’s head. I would be most sur­prised if Uncle Eed ever came to dinner again after such unforgivable rudeness. I was forced to go into town every evening to dub the movies, which I did in so lack­luster a manner that our usual audience began walking the two hours to Ban Kraduk for their entertainment. My heart sa |
20 |
| One night about two weeks later, Mary and I were awakened by my brother, moaning from the mosquito net next to ours. I went across. |
20 |
| “ Oh, there you are,” Phii Lek said. “ I’ve been trying to attract your attention for hours.” |
20 |
| “ I was busy,” I said, and my brother leered knowingly. “Are you all right? Are you recovered?” |
20 |
| “ Not exactly,” he said. “ But I’m, well, off-duty. The alien’ll come back any min­ute, though, so I can’t talk long.” He paused. “ Maybe that girlfriend of yours should hear this,” he said. At that mo­ment Mary crept in beside us, and we crouched together under the netting. The electric fan made the nets billow like ghosts. |
20 |
| “You have to take me to that archae­ |
20 |
| ological dig of yours,” he said. “There’s |
20 |
| an artifact. .. it’s got some kind of en­ |
20 |
| coded information. . .you have to take it |
20 |
| back to Professor Ubermuth at UCLA— ” |
20 |
| “I’ve heard of him!” Mary whispered. “He’s in a loony bin. Apparently, he be­came convinced he was an extraterre— oh, Jesus!” she said in English. |
20 |
| “ He is one,” Phii Lek said. “So am I. There are hundreds of us on this planet. But my controlling alien's resting right now. Look, Ai Noi, I want you to go down to the kitchen and get me as many chili peppers as you can find. On the manus tang dao’s home planet the food is about as bland as rice soup.” |
20 |
| I hurried to obey. When I got back, he wolfed down the peppers until he started weeping from the influx of spiciness. Suspiciously, I said, “If you’re really an alien, what about spaceships?” |
20 |
| “Spaceships... we do have them, but they are drones, taking millennia to reach the center of the galaxy. We ourselves travel by tachyon psychic transference. But the device is being sent by drone.” |
20 |
| “ Device?” |
20 |
| “ From the excavation! Haven’t you been listening? It’s got to be dug up and secretly taken to America and... I’m not sure what or why, but I get the feeling there’s danger if we don’t make our ren­dezvous. Something to do with upsetting the tachyon fields.” |
20 |
| “ I see,” I said, humoring him. “You know what I look like on the home planet, up there? I look like a giant |
20 |
| mangdaa.” |
20 |
| “What’s that?” said Mary. |
20 |
| “ It’s sort of a giant cockroach,” I said. “We use its wings to flavor some kinds of curry.” |
20 |
| “ Yech!” she squealed. “ Eating in­sects. Gross!” |
20 |
| “What do you mean? You’ve been en­joying it all week, and you’ve never com­plained about eating insects,” I said. She started to turn slightly bluish. A farang's |
20 |
| “What do you mean? You’ve been en­joying it all week, and you’ve never com­plained about eating insects,” I said. She started to turn slightly bluish. A farang's |
20 |
| complexion, when he or she is about to be sick, is one of the few truly indescriba­ble hues on the face of this earth. |
20 |
| “Help m e ... ” Phii Lek said. “The |
20 |
| sooner this artifact is unearthed and |
20 |
| loaded onto the drone, the sooner I'll be |
20 |
| released from this—oh, no, it’s coming |
20 |
| back!” Frantically, he gobbled down sev­ |
20 |
| eral more chilies. But it was too late. They |
20 |
| came right back up again, and he was |
20 |
| scampering around the room on all fours |
20 |
| and emitting pigeonlike cooing noises. |
20 |
| “Come to think of it” I said, “ he is act­ |
20 |
| ing rather like a cockroach, isn’t he?” |
20 |
| / I week later our home was in.X Evad ed by nine monks. My moth­ers had been cooking all the previous day, and when I came into the main living room they had already been chanting for about an hour, their bass voices droning from behind huge prayer fans. The house was fragrant with jasmine and incense. |
20 |
| - |
20 |
| I prostrated myself along with the other members of the family. My brother was there too, wriggling around on his belly; his hands were tied up with a sacred rope which ran all the way around the house and through the folded palms of each of the monks. Among them was my father, who looked rather self-conscious and didn’t seem to know all the words of the chants yet. . .now and then he seemed to be opening his mouth at random, like a goldfish. |
20 |
| “This isn’t going to work,” I whispered |
20 |
| to my grandmother, who was kneeling in |
20 |
| the phraphrieb position with her palms |
20 |
| folded, her face frozen in an expression |
20 |
| of beatific piety. “ Mary and I have found |
20 |
| out what the problem is, and it’s not |
20 |
| possession.” |
20 |
| “Buddhang sarnang gacchami," the monks intoned in unison. |
20 |
| “What are they talking about?” Mary |
20 |
| said. She was properly prostrate, but |
20 |
| seemed distracted. She was probably |
20 |
| uncomfo rtable without her trusty |
20 |
| notebook. |
20 |
| “ I haven’t the faintest idea. It’s all in |
20 |
| Pali or Sanskrit or something,” I said. |
20 |
| “Namodasa phrakhavato arahato— " |
20 |
| the monks continued inexorably. |
20 |
| At length, they laid their prayer fans |
20 |
| down and the chief luangphoh doused a |
20 |
| spray of twigs in a silver dipper of lustral |
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| water and began to sprinkle Phii Lek |
20 |
| liberally. |
20 |
| “ It’s got to be over soon,” I said to Mary. |
20 |
| “ It’s getting toward noon, and you know |
20 |
| monks are not allowed to eat after twelve |
20 |
| o’clock.” |
20 |
| As the odor of incense wafted over me |
20 |
| and the chanting continued, I fell into a |
20 |
| sort of trance. These were familiar feel­ |
20 |
| ings, sacred feelings. Maybe my brother |
20 |
| was in the grip of some supernatural |
20 |
| force that could be driven out by the |
20 |
| proper application of Buddha, Dharma, |
20 |
| and Sa ngkha. However, as the |
20 |
| luangphoh became ever more frantic, |
20 |
| waving the twigs energetically over my |
20 |
| writhing brother to no avail, I began to |
20 |
| lose hope. |
20 |
| Presently, the monks took a break for |
20 |
| Presently, the monks took a break for |
20 |
| to my grandmother in a weird mixture of normal talk and priestly talk. Sometimes he'd remember to refer to himself as atma, but at other times he’d speak like anyone off the street. He was saying, “ But mother, atma is miserable, they only feed you once a day, and I’m hornier than |
20 |
| simultaneously ridding ourselves of a po­tential financial liability? I say sell out the half-share of the cinema and use the pro­ceeds to hire a really competent exorcist. Besides,” he added slyly, “with the rest of the cash I could probably obtain me one of those nieces of yours, the ones whose beauty your daughters are always brag­ging about.” |
20 |
| “ You despicable cad,” my grand­mother began, and then added, “ holy one,” to be on the safe side of the karmic balance. |
20 |
| “ Honored father and grandmother,” I ventured, “ have you not considered the notion that Phii Lek’s body might indeed be inhabited by an extraterrestrial being?” |
20 |
| “ I fail to see the difference,” my father said, “ between a being from another planet and one from another spiritual plane. It is purely a matter of attitude. You and your brother, whose wits have been addled by exposure to too many Ameri­can movies, think in terms of visitations from the stars; your grandmother and I, being older and wiser, know that ‘alien’ is merely another word for spirit. Earthly or unearthly, we are all spokes in the wheel of karma, no? Exorcism ought to work on both.” |
20 |
| I didn't like my father’s new approach at all; I thought his drunkenness far more palatable than his piety. But of course this would have been an unconscionably dis­respectful thing to say, so I merely wa/-ed in obeisance and waited for the ordeal to end. |
20 |
| My grandmother said, “Well, son-inlaw, I can see a certain progress in you after all.” My father turned around and winked at me. “Very well,” she said, sigh­ing heavily, “ perhaps your mentor can |
20 |
| - |
20 |
| You and your brother, whose wits have been addled by exposure to too many American movies, think in terms of visitations from the stars; your grandmother and I, being older and wiser, knowthat 'alien' ismerelyanother word |
20 |
| for spirit. |
20 |
| their one meal of the day, and we took turns presenting them with trays of deli­cacies. After securing my brother care­fully to the wall with the sacred twine, I went to the kitchen, where my grand­mother was grinding fresh betel nut with a mortar and pestle. To my surprise, my father was there too. It was rather a shock to see him wearing a saffron robe and bald, when I was so used to seeing him barechested with a phakhoma loosely wrapped about his loins, and with a whis­key bottle rather than a begging bo |
20 |
| him as father or monk. To be on the safe side, I fell on my knees and placed my folded palms reverently at his feet. |
20 |
| My father was complaining animatedly |
20 |
| ever! It’s obviously not going to work, so why don’t I just come home?” My grandmother continued to pound vigorously at her betel nut. |
20 |
| “Anyway, atma thinks that it’s time for more serious measures. I mean, calling in a professional exorcist.” |
20 |
| At this, my grandmother looked up. “Perhaps you’re right, holy one,” she said. I could see that it galled her to have to address her wayward son-in-law in terms of such respect. “ But can we afford it?” |
20 |
| “ Phra Boddhisatphalo, atma's guru, is an astrologer on the side, and he’s says that the stars for the movie theater are exceptionally bad. Well, atma was think­ing, why not perform an act of merit while |
20 |
| Clinton St. Quarterly |
20 |
| Clinton St. Quarterly |
20 |
| find us a decent exorcist. But none of those foreigners, mind you,” she added pointedly as Mary entered the kitchen to fetch another tray of comestibles for the monks’ feast. |
21 |
| T |
21 |
| I he interview with the spirit doctor JL was set for the following week. By that time the wonder of my brother’s pos­session had attracted tourists from a ra­dius of some ten kilometers; his perfor­mances were so spectacular as to outdraw even the talking cinema in Ban Kraduk. It turned out to be a Brahmin, tall, dark, white-robed, with a long white beard that trailed all the way down to the floor. He wore a necklace of bones—they looked suspiciously human—and several flower wreaths over his uncut, wispy ha |
21 |
| of you is the possessed one?” |
21 |
| “He can’t even tell?” My grandmother whispered to me. Then she pointed at Phii Lek, who was crawling around the front porch moaning “tachyon, tachyon.” |
21 |
| “Ah,” said the exorcist. “A classic case of possession by a phii krasue. Dire mea­ |
21 |
| “Ah,” said the exorcist. “A classic case of possession by a phii krasue. Dire mea­ |
21 |
| low’s obviously a quack. . . never trust a Brahmin exorcist, I tell you.” “Well, let’s give him the benefit. See if he comes up with anything.” |
21 |
| The Brahmin spirit doctor took a good look at us, clearly appraising our finan­ces. “Can he be cured?” Elder Mother asked him. |
21 |
| “ Given your very secure monetary standing,” the Brahmin said, “ I see no reason why not. You can take him inside now; I shall discuss the—ah, your merit­making donation—with the head of the household.” |
21 |
| My grandmother came forward, her palms uplifted in supplication. “ Fetch him a drink,” she muttered to my mothers. |
21 |
| My mother said, “ Does the than mo phii want a glass of water? Or would he prefer Coca-Cola?” |
21 |
| “A glass of Mekong whiskey,” said the spirit doctor firmly. “ Better yet, bring the whole bottle. We’ll probably be hagglingall night.” |
21 |
| ince Phii Lek was no longer the ^^cente r of attention, Mary and I obeyed the spirit doctor and brought him inside. He chose that moment to snap back into a state of relative sanity. We knew he had come to because he imme­diately began demanding chili peppers. “All right,” he said at last. “I’ve been authorized to tell you a few more things, since it seems to be the only hope.” “What about that monstrous charlatan out there?” Mary said. “ He’s only going to delay your plans, isn’t he?” “ Not necessarily. I |
21 |
| The main pagoda of the temple had seemed on fire for a few minutes and they’d called in a fire-fighting squad from the next town. “Who’d have thought ofit?" my grandmother was complaining. "A demon visits Prasongburi— andmakes straightformy own grandson!" |
21 |
| sures are indicated, I’m afraid.” |
21 |
| At the mention of the dreaded phii krasue, the entire family recoiled as a single entity. For the phii krasue is, as everyone knows, a spirit who looks like a normal enough creature in the daytime, but at night detaches its head from its body and, dragging its entrails behind it, propels itself forward by its tongue. It also lives on human excrement. It is, in short, one of the most loathsome and feared of spirits. The idea that we might have been harboring one in our very house sent chills of terror throug |
21 |
| Presently, I heard dissenting voices. “ But a phiikrasue can’t act this way in the daytime!” one said. “Anyway, where’s the trail of guts?” said another. “This fel­ |
21 |
| measure. They randomize the solar system.” “ I think that’s a euphemism for— ” Mary began. "That’s right, Beloved Younger Sib­lings! No more planet earth.” |
21 |
| “Can they really do that?” I said. |
21 |
| “Can they really do that?” I said. |
21 |
| “They do it all the time.” My brother reverted for a moment to cockroachlike behavior, then jerked back into a human pose with great effort. “They might not, though. All the xenobiologists, primitive cult fetishists, and so on are up in arms. Soitmighthappen today.. . itmighthap­pen in a couple of years. . . it might never happen. Who knows? But Galactic Cen­tral thinks that no world, no matter how puny or insignificant, should be ran­ |
21 |
| “They do it all the time.” My brother reverted for a moment to cockroachlike behavior, then jerked back into a human pose with great effort. “They might not, though. All the xenobiologists, primitive cult fetishists, and so on are up in arms. Soitmighthappen today.. . itmighthap­pen in a couple of years. . . it might never happen. Who knows? But Galactic Cen­tral thinks that no world, no matter how puny or insignificant, should be ran­ |
21 |
| domized without due process. But. . .1 |
21 |
| don’t think we should risk it, do you?” |
21 |
| “ Maybe not,” I said. The theory that my |
21 |
| “ Maybe not,” I said. The theory that my |
21 |
| brother had contracted one of those |
21 |
| American mental diseases, like schizo­ |
21 |
| phrenia, was becoming more and more |
21 |
| attractive to me. But I had to do what he |
21 |
| said. To be on the safe side. |
21 |
| Mary and I left Phii Lek and went out to |
21 |
| Mary and I left Phii Lek and went out to |
21 |
| the porch, where the spirit doctor had |
21 |
| consumed half the whiskey and they had |
21 |
| lit the anti-m osquito tapers, whose |
21 |
| smoke perfumed the dense night air. |
21 |
| “ Excuse me, honored, grandmother,” I |
21 |
| “ Excuse me, honored, grandmother,” I |
21 |
| said trying to sound as unassuming as I |
21 |
| could, “ but Phii Lek says he wants the |
21 |
| exorcism done at Mary's archaeological |
21 |
| dig.” |
21 |
| “Ha!” the exorcist said. “One must al­ |
21 |
| “Ha!” the exorcist said. “One must al­ |
21 |
| ways do the opposite of what a pos­ |
21 |
| sessed person said, for the evil spirit in |
21 |
| him strives always to delude us! ” His sen­ |
21 |
| timents were expressed with such re­ |
21 |
| sounding ferocity that there was a burst |
21 |
| of applause from the crowd downstairs. |
21 |
| “Besides,” he added, “there’s probably a |
21 |
| whole arm of phii krasue out there, just |
21 |
| waiting to swallow us up. It’s a trap, I tell |
21 |
| you! This possession is merely the van­ |
21 |
| guard of a wholesale demonic invasion!” |
21 |
| I looked despairingly at Mary. “ Now |
21 |
| I looked despairingly at Mary. “ Now |
21 |
| what’llwedo?” Isaid. “Sitaroundwaiting |
21 |
| for the earth to disappear?” |
21 |
| It was Mary who came to the rescu |
21 |
| It was Mary who came to the rescu |
21 |
| - |
21 |
| e . . . and I realized how much she had absorbed by quietly observing us and taking all those notes. She said, speak­ing in a Thai for more heavily accented than she normally used, “But please, honored spirit doctor, the field study group would be most interested in seeing a real live exorcism!” |
21 |
| The spirit doctor looked decidedly un­certain at being addressed in Thai by a farang. I could tell the questions racing through his mind; What status should the woman be accorded? She wasn’t related to any of these people, nor was her social position immediately obvious. How could he respond without accidentally using the wrong pronoun, and giving her too much or little status—and perhaps ren­dering himself the laughingstock of these potential clients? |
21 |
| Taking advantage of his confusion, Mary pursued relentlessly. “Or does the honored spirit doctor perhaps klua phii?" |
21 |
| “Of course I’m not afraid of spirits!” the exorcist said. |
21 |
| “ Then why would a few extra ones bother the honored spirit doctor?” Mary contrived to speak in so unprepossess­ing an accent that it was impossible to tell whether her polite words were ingenuous or insulting. |
21 |
| “ Bah!” said the spirit doctor. “Mew phii krasue are nothing. It’s just a matter of convenience, that’s all... ” |
21 |
| “I’m sure that the foundation that’s sponsoring our field research here would be more than happy to make a small donation toward am eliorating the inconvenience. . . ” |
21 |
| - |
21 |
| “Since you put it that way,” the exorcist said, defeated. |
21 |
| “ Hmpf!” my grandmother said, tri­umphantly yanking the half-bottle of whiskey away and sending my mother back to the kitchen with it. “ These farangs might be some use after all. They’reas ugly as elephants, of course— and albino elephants at that—but who knows? One day their race may yet amount to something.” |
21 |
| I he whole street opera of an exor |
21 |
| I he whole street opera of an exor |
21 |
| - |
21 |
| cism was in full swing by the time |
21 |
| my brother, Mary, and I parked her official |
21 |
| Landrover about a half hour's walk away |
21 |
| from the site. It had taken a week to make |
21 |
| the preparations, with my brother’s mo­ |
21 |
| ments of lucidity getting briefer and his |
21 |
| eschatological claims wilder each time. |
21 |
| By the time we had trudged through fields of young rice, squishing knee deep in mud, several hundred people had gathered to watch. A good hundred or so were relatives of mine. Mary introduced me to some colleagues of hers, pro­fessors and such like, and they eyed me with curiosity as I fumbled around in their intractable language. |
21 |
| Four broken pagodas were silhouetted in the sunset. A water buffalo nuzzled at the pediment of an enormous stone Bud­dha, to whom I instinctively raised my palms in respect. Here and there, erupt­ing from the brilliant green of the fields of young rice, were fragments of fortifica­tions and walls topped with complex friezes that depicted grim, barbaric gods |
21 |
| last week. |
22 |
| last week. |
22 |
| before, his performance now shifted into an even more hyperbolic gear. He groaned. He danced about, his body coil­ing and uncoiling like a serpent. |
22 |
| I heard my grandmother cry out, “ Ui ta then\ Nuns dropping in the basement!” It was the strongest language I’d ever heard her use. |
22 |
| Mary clutched my hand. Some of my relatives stared disapprovingly at the im­propriety, but I decided that they were just jealous. |
22 |
| “And now we’ll see which it is to be,” Mary said. “ Science fiction or fantasy.” |
22 |
| “ He’s mumbling himself into a trance now,” I said, pointing to the exorcist, who had closed his eyes and from whose lips a strange buzzing issued. |
22 |
| “Are you sure he’s not snoring?” one of my mothers said maliciously. |
22 |
| “What tranquility! What perfect samadhil” my other mother said admiringly, for the spirit doctor hadn’t moved a mus­cle in some ten minutes. |
22 |
| - |
22 |
| Phii Lek’s contortions became positively unnerving. He darted about the sacred circle, now and then flapping his arms as though to fly. Suddenly, a bellow—like the cry of an angry water buffalo—burst from his lips. He flapped again and again—and then rose into the air! |
22 |
| “ Be still, I command thee!” the exor­cist’s voice thundered, and he waved a rattle at my levitating brother and made mysterious passes. “ I tell thee, be still!” |
22 |
| A ray of light shot upward from the earth, dazzlingly bright. The pagodas were lit up eerily. The ground opened up under Phii Lek as he hovered. There he was, brilliantly lit up in the pillar of radi­ance, with an iridiscent aura around him whose outlines vaguely resembled an enormous cockroach. |
22 |
| The crowd was going wild now. They clamored, they cheered; some of the chil­dren were disobeying the sacred cord and having to be restrained by their el­ders. My brother was sitting, in lotus posi­tion, in the middle of the air with his |
22 |
| Some ofthe aliensaren ’tending upimthe bodies they were destined for The military ruler ofnine starsystems doesn ’t want toget thrustinto thebody ofaleprousjanitorfrom Milwaukee. That is precisely what happened |
22 |
| “do you think. . .maybe. . .one last |
22 |
| time?” She caressed my arm. |
22 |
| “ But you’re a giant cockroach!” I said. |
22 |
| “ But you’re a giant cockroach!” I said. |
22 |
| She kissed me. |
22 |
| “You’ve been bragging to your friends all month about ‘arriving’ in America,” |
22 |
| she said. “ How’d you like to ‘arrive’ on |
22 |
| another planet?” |
22 |
| I n the middle of the act I became JLaware that someone else was there with us. I mean, I was used to the way Mary moved, the delicious abandon with which she made her whole body shudder. |
22 |
| Ithought, “The alien’s here too! Well, I’m |
22 |
| Ithought, “The alien’s here too! Well, I’m |
22 |
| really going to show it how a Thai can |
22 |
| drive. Here we go!” |
22 |
| The next morning I said, “ How was it?” |
22 |
| She said, “ It was a fascinating activity, |
22 |
| but frankly I prefer mitosis.” |
22 |
| Fiddling for water buffaloes. |
22 |
| In a day or so I saw her off; I went JLback to the antique’store; I found my grandmother hard at work in her antique­faking studio. A perfect Ming spittoon lay beside her where she squatted. She saw me, spat out her betel nut, and motioned |
22 |
| me to sit. |
22 |
| me to sit. |
22 |
| “Why, Grandmother,” I said, “That’s a |
22 |
| perfect copy of whatever it was the alien |
22 |
| took to America.” |
22 |
| “ Look again, my grandson,” she said, |
22 |
| and chuckled to herself as she rocked |
22 |
| back and forth kneading clay. |
22 |
| I picked it up. The morning light shone |
22 |
| on it through the window. I had an inkling |
22 |
| that. . .no. Surely not. “You didn’t!” I |
22 |
| said. |
22 |
| She didn’t answer. |
22 |
| “Grandmother... ” |
22 |
| No answer. |
22 |
| “ But the solar system is at stake!” I |
22 |
| blurted out. “ If they find out that they’ve |
22 |
| got the wrong tachyon calibrator... ” |
22 |
| “ Maybe, maybe not,” said my grand­ |
22 |
| mother. “The way I think is this: it’s ob­ |
22 |
| viously very important to someone, and |
22 |
| anything that valuable is worth faking. |
22 |
| You say these interstellar diplomats will |
22 |
| be arguing the question for years, per­ |
22 |
| haps. Well, as the years go by, the price |
22 |
| will undoubtedly go up.” |
22 |
| “ But khun yaai, how can you possibly |
22 |
| play games with the destiny of the entire |
22 |
| human race like this?” |
22 |
| “Oh, come, come. I’m just an old |
22 |
| woman looking out for her family. The |
22 |
| movie house has been sold, and we’ve |
22 |
| lost maybe 50,000 baht on the exorcism |
22 |
| and the feast. Besides, your father will |
22 |
| insist on another wife, I’m afraid, and |
22 |
| after all this brouhaha I can’t blame him. |
22 |
| We’ll be out 100,000 baht by the time |
22 |
| we’re through. I have a perfect right to |
22 |
| some kind of recompense. Hopefully, by |
22 |
| the time they come looking for this thing, |
22 |
| we’ll be able to get enough for it to open a |
22 |
| whole antique factory. . .who knows, |
22 |
| move to Bangkok. . .buy up Channel |
22 |
| Seven so your brother can dub movies to |
22 |
| his heart’s content.” |
22 |
| “But couldn’t the alien tell?” I said. |
22 |
| “ Of course not. How many experts on |
22 |
| disguised tachyon calibrators do you |
22 |
| think there are, anyway?” My grand­ |
22 |
| mother paused to turn the electric fan so |
22 |
| that it blew exclusively on herself. The air |
22 |
| conditioning, as usual, was off. “Anyway, |
22 |
| manus tang dao are only another kind of |
22 |
| foreigner, and anyone can tell you that all |
22 |
| foreigners are suckers.” |
22 |
| I heard the bell ring in the front. |
22 |
| “ Go on!” she said. “ There ’s a |
22 |
| customer!” |
22 |
| “Butwhatif—” Igot up with sometrep­ |
22 |
| idation. At the partition I hesitated. |
22 |
| “ Courage!” she whispered. “ Be a luk |
22 |
| phuchail” |
22 |
| I remembered that I had the family honor to think of. Boldly, I marched out to meet the next customer. |
22 |
| I remembered that I had the family honor to think of. Boldly, I marched out to meet the next customer. |
22 |
| Writer Somtow Sucharitkul was born in Bangkok and resides in the U.S. Twice nominated for science-fiction ’s Hugo Award, he won the Locus award for his first novel, Starship and Haiku. His works in­clude Mallworld, the Inquestor Tetralogy and under the name S.M. Somtow, Vampire Junction and The Shattered Horse. This story is reprinted from Tales from the Planet Earth, a novel with nineteen authors cre­ated by Frederik Pohl and Elizabeth Anne Hull—copyright ®1986. Available from St. Martins Press, 175 Fifth |
22 |
| Artist Carl Smool lives in Seattle. He is a frequent contributor to CSQ. |
22 |
| and garlanded, singing apsaras. A row of trunkless stucco elephants guarded a gateway to another paddy field. |
22 |
| and garlanded, singing apsaras. A row of trunkless stucco elephants guarded a gateway to another paddy field. |
22 |
| Every part of the ruined city had been girded round with a saisin, a sacred rope that had been strung up along the walls and along the stumps of the elephant trunks and through the stone portals and finally into the folded palms of the spirit doctor himself, who sat in the lotus posi­tion on a woven rush mat, surrounded by a cloud of incense. |
22 |
| “You’re late,” he said angrily as we hastened to seat ourselves within the protected'circle. “Get inside, inside. Or do you want to be swallowed up by spirits?” |
22 |
| If I thought Phii Lek’s actions bizarre |
22 |
| “ Phii Lek!” I cried out, overcome with relief that he was still alive. |
22 |
| “The tachyon calibrator—” he gasped, holding aloft the spittoon and waving it dramatically in the air. “You must get it to... ” |
22 |
| He fainted, still clasping the alien de­vice firmly to his bosom. |
22 |
| The light shifted... the ghostly, rain­bow-fringed giant cockroach seemed to drift slowly across the field, toward the unmoving figure of the exorcist. . .it danced grotesquely above his head, and he began to twitch and foam at the mouth. . . . |
22 |
| “ I’ ll be dead!” my grandmother shouted. “The spirit is transferring itself into the body of the exorcist!” |
22 |
| In a moment the exorcist too fainted, and the sacred cord fell from his hands. The circle was broken. Whatever was done was done. |
22 |
| I rushed to the side of my brother, still lying prone by the side of the abyss. “Wake up!” I said, shaking him. “ Please wake up!” |
22 |
| He got up and grinned. Applause broke out. The exorcist, too, seemed to be recovering from his ordeal. |
22 |
| “And now,” my brother said, holding out the alien artifact, “ I can return this thing to the person who was sent to fetch it.” |
22 |
| A small, white, palpitating hand was stretched forward to receive it. I turned to see who it was. “Oh, no," I said softly. |
22 |
| For it was Mary who had taken the artifact. . .and Mary who was now gyrat­ing about the paddy field in a most un­feminine, most cockroachlike manner. |
22 |
| Later that night, Phii Lek and I sat on the floor of our room, waiting for Mary to snap out of her extraterrestrial seizure so we could find out what had happened. |
22 |
| Toward dawn the alien gave her her first break. “ I can talk now,” she said suddenly, calmly. |
22 |
| “ Do you need chilies?” I said. “ I think a good hamburger would be more my style,” she said. |
22 |
| “We can probably fake it,” my brother said, “if you don’t mind having it on rice instead of a bun.” |
22 |
| “Well,” she said, when my brother had finished clattering about the kitchen, fix­ing this unorthodox meal, and she was sitting cross-legged on my bedding, munching furiously, “ I suppose I should tell you what I’m allowed to tell you.” |
22 |
| “Takeyourtime,” Isaid, notmeaningit. |
22 |
| “Okay. Well, as you know, the exorcist is a total fake, a charlatan, a moun­tebank. But he does enter a passable state of samadhi, and apparently this was close enough to the psychic null state necessary for psychic transference to enable a mindswap to occur over a short distance. His blank mind was a sort of |
22 |
| The ground opened up under Phii Lek as he hovered. There he was, brilliantlylit up in the pillarofradiance, with an iridiscentaura around him whose outlines vaguely resembled an enormous cockroach. |
22 |
| palms folded, looking just like a postcard of the Emerald Buddha in Bangkok. |
22 |
| palms folded, looking just like a postcard of the Emerald Buddha in Bangkok. |
22 |
| The flaming apparition that had been my brother descended into the pit. We all rushed to the edge. The light from the abyss burned our eyes; we were blinded. Mary took advantage of the confusion to embrace me tightly; I was too over­whelmed to castigate her. |
22 |
| We waited. |
22 |
| The earth rumbled. |
22 |
| At last a figure crawled out. He was covered in mud and filth. He was clutching so m ethin g under his arm. . .something very much like a Ming spittoon. |
22 |
| - |
22 |
| catalyst, if you will, through which, under the influence of the tachyon calibrator, I could leave Phii Lek’s mind and enter Mary’s.” |
22 |
| “So you’ll be taking the spittoon back to America?” I said. |
22 |
| “ Right on schedule. And it’s not a spit­toon. That happens to be a very clever disguise.” |
22 |
| “So .. .” It suddenly occurred to me that she would soon be leaving. I was irritated at that. I didn’t know why. I should have been pleased, because, after all, I had essentially traded her for my brother, and family always comes first. |
22 |
| “ Look,” she said, noticing my unease, |
22 |
| join us in our totally non-smoking restaurant mon-thurs 11am-9pm fri & sat 11am-10pm sun 12n-9pm |
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| I |
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| I |
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| A COMMENT ON COURAGE |
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| A COMMENT ON COURAGE |
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| By T.R. Healy |
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| By T.R. Healy |
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| Illustration by Jack McLarty |
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| "... theartistsimplyfastedonandon, ashe had oncedreamed of doing, and it was no trouble to him, just as he had always foretold, but no one counted the days... |
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| Franz Kafka, The Hunger Artist |
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| Franz Kafka, The Hunger Artist |
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| mong the famous historical monuments in Washington, |
25 |
| A |
25 |
| D.C. situated in Potomac Park was a squalid little cage |
25 |
| made of bamboo. It was crude and rickety, the bamboo almost black it was so weather-beaten. It was part of an exhibit set up by some veterans of the Vietnam War, still dressed in their ragged combat fatigues, who wanted to remind visitors to the park not to forget the soldiers who had never returned from Southeast Asia. The cage was an exact replica of the kind of enclosure that many Americans had been confined to by their captors during the war. It was a miniature prison, every bit as crude and humiliating |
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| It was difficult to imagine a grown man |
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| could actually fit inside such a small en­ |
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| closure. And sometimes, trying to con­ |
25 |
| vince themselves this was so, visitors to |
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| the park would picture themselves inside |
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| the cage, with their knees gathered in­ |
25 |
| side their arms and their backs bent, |
25 |
| though the cage scarcely seemed large |
25 |
| enough to hold any one of the dogs that |
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| roamed the park. It was a hideous thing, |
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| confining its occupant to the darkest cor­ |
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| ner of the black heart of isolation and |
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| fear. One of the young revolutionaries in |
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| Andre Malraux’s novel Man’s Fate is |
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| asked, “What do you call dignity?” and |
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| he replies, “The opposite of humiliation.” |
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| Clearly, one of the worst things one person can do to another is to humiliate him; it isthecruelest of cruelties, capable of denying someone his very dignity as a person. There was, to be sure, no dignity to be found inside the bamboo cage in Potomac Park, only the ignominy of in­carceration. Inside a cage one is inevita­ble diminished, held up to ridicule, de­prived of the respect he can demand from others and owes to himself. Inside one grows smaller and smaller, threaten­ing to disappear as he blends in |
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| J U stonishingly, a Marine veteran of |
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| * Athe Vietnam War, by the name of Casanova, confined himself to a similar bamboo cage alongside a country road in the state of Washington. It is hard to comprehend why anyone would inten­tionally submit himself to such humilia­tion. People put other people into prison |
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| * Athe Vietnam War, by the name of Casanova, confined himself to a similar bamboo cage alongside a country road in the state of Washington. It is hard to comprehend why anyone would inten­tionally submit himself to such humilia­tion. People put other people into prison |
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| cells all the time, but rational people do not put themselves into prison. |
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| Casanova, as it turned out, intended to maintain a fast for 61 days inside his cage, one day for each Washington state serviceman missing in action in South­east Asia. His aim was similar to that of the veterans who had built the cage in Potomac Park. He wanted to make peo­ple aware of the plight of those veterans who had not returned from the war. Dur­ing the course of his fast he gained con­siderable attention across the country, receiving journalists and photographers who had ignored him when he had re­t |
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| Surely, many people regarded the ac­tion of this veteran as ridiculous and wasteful, but his supporters, who wit­nessed him inside his roadside cage and saw his bones slowly shining through his skin, felt a searing admiration. They en­vied his resolve, his conviction, some even wished they could sit beside him inside his cage. His fast recalled the Irish revolutionary Bobby Sands who, a few years earlier, had conducted a hunger strike inside his prison cell to protest the policies of the British government |
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| Death was not his objective, just as it was not Casanova’s objective during his fast. Neither of these young men wished to die when they commenced their fasts. In­stead, their intention was to change gov­ernment policy on what they regarded as important matters of justice and morality. |
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| Both of these men, through their fasts, displayed enormous individual courage. Courage is a rare human attribute de­spite the fact that it is often wrongly as­cribed to the most commonplace en­deavors. Seemingly, anyone who is victimized nowadays is invariably de­scribed as courageous, which is to con­fuse the condition of survival with the |
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| 12 e was not unlike Kafka's hunger artist who occasionally stretched out an arm through the bar ofhis small cage so that a member of the audience could feel how thin it had become and marvel at the artistry of his accomplishment. |
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| ■ |
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| ■ |
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| tacle that did not evoke the memory of the Irish revolutionary Sands but of the hunger artist in the Kafka short story. Courage demands that a person risk himself for something other than his own gratification or pride. The purpose be­hind Casanova’s threat to return to his cage had scarcely anything to do with courage, but seemed to be only a de­mand for continued public attention. He had become something of a celebrity be­cause of his previous confinement, and apparently he was not willing to relin­quish |
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| Indeed, he was not unlike Kafka’s hun­ger artist who occasionally stretched out an arm through the bar of his small cage so that a member of the audience could feel how thin it had become and marvel at the artistry of his accomplishment. His desire to return to his cage was not the act of a courageous man any longer but of a performer demanding the attention of his audience. |
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| The cage was his home, his circle of light, (Ie was someone there. |
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| Writer T.R. Healey lives in Portland. This is his first story in CSQ. Artist Jack McLarty recently illustrated the chapbookEncounters With The White Train, a story by Andy Robinson that first ap­ |
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| peared in CSQ. |
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| genuine achievement of courage. Cour­age requires choice, not simply tenacity. The Irish revolutionary and the Vietnam veteran chose their ordeals—they were not merely victims of circumstance. |
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| Malraux, in a discussion with Saint-Exupery, once dismissed courage as “a curious and banal consequence of the feeling of invulnerability.” The courage exhibited by a soldier, say, who rushed to confront his adversary may indeed be an impulsive act that flows from a feeling of being invulnerable. But this was certainly not the case with Sands or Casanova who deliberately denied them selves nourishment inside their cages. It was inconceivable for them to feel they were invulnerable as they watched their heal |
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| Malraux, in a discussion with Saint-Exupery, once dismissed courage as “a curious and banal consequence of the feeling of invulnerability.” The courage exhibited by a soldier, say, who rushed to confront his adversary may indeed be an impulsive act that flows from a feeling of being invulnerable. But this was certainly not the case with Sands or Casanova who deliberately denied them selves nourishment inside their cages. It was inconceivable for them to feel they were invulnerable as they watched their heal |
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| deteriorate day after day, their bodies be­coming reduced to skin and bone. These two men had consciously risked their dig­nity and their well-being for something other than themselves, which is the es­sence of courage. |
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| ithin a mouth after he had |
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| W |
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| ended his fast, however, Cas­ |
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| ended his fast, however, Cas­ |
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| anova announced he was preparingter,to had achieved the objectives of his commence another fast. He decided to long fast inside his cage. There was no return to his roadside cage after hearing plausible reason to return there. that the Secret Service had recom­What had before seemed a noble and mended that President Reagan not meet courageous sacrifice of his dignity and with him, as the President had earlier health now threatened to become a spec­ |
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| anova announced he was preparingter,to had achieved the objectives of his commence another fast. He decided to long fast inside his cage. There was no return to his roadside cage after hearing plausible reason to return there. that the Secret Service had recom­What had before seemed a noble and mended that President Reagan not meet courageous sacrifice of his dignity and with him, as the President had earlier health now threatened to become a spec­ |
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| promised, becauseoftheveteran’scrimi­nal record. Seething, he hoped to compel the President to meet with him or else he would starve himself to death. This deci­sion confused some of his supporters. Casanova, by making the public at large aware of the plight of the missing Ameri­can servicemen and thereby receiving the pledge of the administration to strengthen its efforts to resolve this mat­ |
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| ach piece that I make is an approximation of what I am becoming at |
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| Ivry |
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| Ivry |
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| Ivry |
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| icf-Kny |
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| [M W |
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| [M W |
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| vtwny > Sand Sh& |
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| dtitr ^bU ^ |
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| dtitr ^bU ^ |
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| polish 4-4-ch xJ bhtt |
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| the time. Each piece is a different combination of past lives. Each piece represents a death of some part of me. Some pieces I never know. It's like when you arrive at where you started and discover the place for the first time. |
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| My father got lost in the woods one lime. He was afraid but trying not to let on to himself. Then he came upon footprints in the snow­ |
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| fresh .. .six feet apart. A giant! He followed them for quite a while until they were joined by another set of tracks, these more normal ones. Two people now! More following and then another set! Well, you get riie picture. TheI irst circle he was scared, and running, and didn't even know it. Then he slowed down and finally caught up with all of himself. Some­times it's like that. |
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| In a semi-waking state, |
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| In a semi-waking state, |
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| when I was about 10, I expe-| rienceda microcosm; that is, I experienced the con ­sciousness of being an atom | |
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| at the edge of a ledge run-1 ning around my room. How-i ever, my experience was not of its smallness but of the enormity of the space within it. It was like being sucked into a small funnel only to emerge out of a very large funnel, one that encom ­passed the universe. I experi­enced a vision so much larger than myself that my eye be­came stretched. It was a vi­sual stretching of my psyche and spirit in a way I had no words or knowledge to de­scribe. I think that was the beginning of my life as an artist: t |
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| My imagery is hard to ex­plain. I work primarily sub­consciously Io evoke what I don't know, something I can't yet see. I want it to swim and fly. I wont it to be in motion. I want to hear its resonance. |
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| My language consists of edges, hard and soft, one form evolving into another; the juxtaposition of this soft­ness against this hardness and how they embrace and reflect each other. I am striving for an image which is both too simple and too com­plex, something which takes an intuitive leap to com­prehend. I want to illuminate the numinous. Young Willy down in Tucson called it the Sliding Paradox. Another friend at the time, with a |
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| Ascending Numen Woman— 1982, Office, Southwest Portland |
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| By Keith Jellum |
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| n |
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| a |
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| r |
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| Wedding Helmet—1976 Sky Cephalopod— 1984, Penguinarium, Washington Park Zoo, Portland B |
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| Calligraphy by Elizabeth Anderson |
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| m T |
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| more acute sense of the ab­surd, modified that to the Sliding Pair of Ducks. |
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| more acute sense of the ab­surd, modified that to the Sliding Pair of Ducks. |
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| Some vocabulary avail­able to me I don't under­stand: like a straight line; like a perfect circle; like a flat sur­face. These things make me very uncomfortable. They are unforgiving. They are too easy and authoritarian. They are unfree—the Western Box which imprisons us. But an almost straight line can be exquisitely beautiful, like the curve of the ocean as viewed from an eye of beach sand. Or juxtapose an egg and a perfect sphere. The egg im­plies something more — something before and after it. The spher |
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| , |
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| easy enough to construct. But I wouldn't want to lie down and put my body next to it. |
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| easy enough to construct. But I wouldn't want to lie down and put my body next to it. |
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| A machinist/philosopher who, in my younger days I thought very wise, used to say: "Poor man(kind). When- |
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| E.P. (Electronic Poet)—1986, SW 10th & Morrison, Portland |
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| ever he gets in trouble or lost he goes running back to nature." He implied that this was not only pathetic but stu­pid. But then, machinist that he was, a straight line and perfect circle were his longing. |
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| ever he gets in trouble or lost he goes running back to nature." He implied that this was not only pathetic but stu­pid. But then, machinist that he was, a straight line and perfect circle were his longing. |
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| A poet friend of mine asks, "But why metal?" I think she sees it only as hard and heavy and dead. To me metal is so versatile and ubiquitous that the reasons seem ob­vious. Of the 112 known |
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| A poet friend of mine asks, "But why metal?" I think she sees it only as hard and heavy and dead. To me metal is so versatile and ubiquitous that the reasons seem ob­vious. Of the 112 known |
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| colder. However, if they are both at the same temperature above body heat, the meta! will feel warmer. Metals have a large number of free electrons which make them good conductors of heat and electricity, . .jf |
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| Being an anarchist at heart I identify with the free elec­trons. Unfortunately, how­ever, over the years the free electrons have identified with me, and I have suffered from varying states of metal poisoning-bronze-found­ers' ague. |
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| was as adornment and in ob=cts of a spiritual/aesthetic ature. Originally these were restricted to the ruling aristoc­racy. The utilitarian function came next but because few knew how to work metal, its use was still restricted to the wealthy: goblets, beakers, containers, adornment and a |
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| - |
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| few axes and knives. As the knowledge of working metal began to spread along with the discovery of different al­loying techniques and meth­ods for achieving higher tem­peratures, the utilitarian function grew. For thousands of years, copper, gold and sil­ver dominated the metal scene. The use of forced air into the fire and higher tem­peratures led to the discovery |
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| chemical elements about 65 are metal, half-metal or near-metal. |
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| Metal is unique in its flexi­bility. The alloying of differ­ent metals and near-metals with the application of heat yields wondrous contradic­tions and possibilities in the same substance: hard and soft; solid and liquid; dull and glossy. Metal can exhibit amazing strength and ex­treme fragility (indium is not strong enough to support its own weight); it can be ex­ceedingly plastic and utterly brittle. |
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| If you have a block of metal and a block of wood both at the same temperature below 37°C, our body tem­perature, the metal will feel |
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| Untitled—1976, SW Corbett, Portland |
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| and use of iron, and its abun-B dance and greater hardness (compared to bronze) led to conquering armies with superior weapons, and the profane, paradox. |
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| - |
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| For me nothing more nearly approaches a religious experience than pouring molten bronze (at 2,000°F) from a crucible into a mold. Since it is difficult to maintain in this state, the next best things is to have the bronze around, solidified in the form of a piece of sculpture, in a temporary state of potential transition. |
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| hen he was about seven years old I gave my son some wax to play with and showed him how to heat and work it. I told him that what­ever he made in wax I would cast into metal for him. He worked away silently, alone, for several hours. I expected |
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| him to come up with a little cat or maybe a primitive car or truck. When he was finished he brought me three objects: a dagger; a ring with a very sharp point on it; and a set of wax 'brass knuckles' with the word love spelled out backwards, such that whatever softness was struck by them, they would leave |
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| him to come up with a little cat or maybe a primitive car or truck. When he was finished he brought me three objects: a dagger; a ring with a very sharp point on it; and a set of wax 'brass knuckles' with the word love spelled out backwards, such that whatever softness was struck by them, they would leave |
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| the legible impression of LOVE. Swear to God. I had no idea what he was making. He still has the metal versions |
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| o f a ll three. Today, at 23, he has a heavy metal rock band in the Bay Area. Carrying on the tradition. Blending the soft and the hard? |
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| Minnie, a friend of mine, once told me, "I just hate all my friends." She was wres­tling with an interesting para­dox. Another artist friend, Helen, recently said to me, "Reality just isn't the same anymore." Not-only was she having difficulty with the par­adoxes but they were sliding on her. |
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| There is a definite absur­dity about trying to be.an art­ist in a Society which worships primarily money and power. Such absurdity used to in­trigue me. |
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| However, absurdity isn't as much fun as it used to be. Most of our choices have grave consequences. There is |
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| am striving for an |
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| image which is both |
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| too simple and too |
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| complex, something |
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| which takes an |
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| intuitive leap to |
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| comprehend. I want |
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| to illuminate the |
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| numinous. |
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| an undeniable holiness about life that needs to be addressed. Homage must be paid to the lurking spirits. My work is my homage. |
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| Artist Keith Jellum lives and works in Sherwood, Oregon, just south of Portland. This story was produced with finan­cial assistance from the Oregon Arts Commission. |
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| TYPICAL COMPOSITIONS OF C O M M O N COPPER ALLOYS |
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| Bronze: 90% copper, 10% tin (harder than pure copper) Brass: 70% copper, 30% zinc (harder than bronze) Red Brass: 85% copper, 5% each—tin, lead, zinc (faucets, sculp­ture alloy) Silicon Bronze: 93% copper, 7% silica (replacing red brass as sculpture material) Tumbago: Copper, gold (in use by South and Central American Indians when Spanish arrived) Monel Metal: 65% nickel, 35% copper Pewter: 91% tin, 7% antimony, 2% copper |
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| y son is a professional football player. This was his rookie year; he was paid. I remember my lover explain­ing to both of us when Danny was in high school: Amateur comes from the same word as amor. Amator is Latin for lover. The amateur plays for the love of it. I wonder now about professional. To profess. I ask my father about rookie. “ I have no idea,” he says, in a hint of his customary annoyance with my weird interests. So I look it up, read it to him, bent to his trailer hitch on the mid-Oregon coast. |
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| (Professional: 1978. Walking Men­stop in front of a TV in the window of docino streets, a cold foggy night. The Mendoza’s Hardware Store. A football ocean pounds the town. They say Danny game. The Dallas Cowboys. And see it: has to be afootballplayer. Atsix-five he's Professional. Men. Not boys. Paid. No not tall enough to play basketball, the soul. No love. All armor, it seems. That is, sport he’s best at, the sport he loves. I no amor.) |
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| aniel Clark Doubiago was born Sep­tember 25, 1960 in Escondido, Califor­nia. I was nineteen and so large I had begun to expect him in July. The doctor, my husband’s Palomar College football team’s doctor, said August. By the third week of September, I gave up. I accepted the fact that I would always carry this football for a belly. The twenty fourth was a Saturday. George and I, living in my hometown of Ramona, a small desert­mountain town in the back country of San Diego County, drove down the long, wind­i |
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| Fishing and football: the great forces of my son’s life. Long distance driving, birth and Indians, the great forces of mine. |
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| When he came, he came as an athlete. |
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| 1 |
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| 1 |
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| “What’s that noise?” I asked after they had taken him from my arms. The nurses and doctors all stopped their work and watched, amazed. He was on his hands and knees, butting his head repeatedly into the glass end of the isolette. A nurse pulled him down and like lightning, like a ram, he crawled to the end again and began beating his head against the glass. In the two days at the hospital he became legendary: his physical strength, his advanced maturity. They cut his fingernails while he was still in the de |
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| His father George and I separated when Danny was five, his sister two. I would have left much sooner but for the belief of that bygone era that children need their fathers more than anything else. When I left it was on the painful realization that my children were being damaged by their father. Not that he didn’t love them, wasn’t good to them, but that he didn’t love me, couldn’t, ever. I realized that my son would grow up un­able to love women, that my daughter would grow up expecting not to be loved by m |
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| This is not to say that they were not hurt. They were, they are, profoundly. The separation served to make the dis­tant, unknown father the object of great longing: romantic, perfect, like God. Danny, more than Shawn, actively, pain­fully longed for his father all his childhood and I, |
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| p o f’ |
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| p o f’ |
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| out of |
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| the great loss too, and sens­ing an unfairness in my ever-present ad­vantage, tried never to discredit him. But though he lived less than fifteen miles away, he rarely visited and never gave financial support. |
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| As all parents learn, life is a fantastic surging of all the chaoses, the gifts and the curses. Sometimes, proudly watch­ing my son play football, I see so clearly that his quest is still the quest to find the father. |
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| hen Danny was seven, Shawn four, Mark came to us until Danny was sixteen and she was thirteen. Then, very abruptly he left. In that nine-year period we lived what was called a hippy life, the life of the anti­Vietnam War counter-culture, in Los An­geles, Malibu, Vermont and finally on the Mendocino Coast of Northern California. Shawn and Mark were nearly insepara­ble, but there was always tension be­tween Danny and Mark, partly Mark maintained, because of Danny’s longing for his father, that man disappeared |
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| April 26, 1983—the NFL Draft |
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| My birthday. I’m dreaming Danny is a small blond man with a butch haircut. He’s not a football player. He’s just a very interesting young man. Iwake up with the urgency to tell him—Danny, you don’t have to be a football player. Have I ever made this clear to him? I’m sleeping in my van outside my sister’s house in Ash­land, Oregon. I climb out, dial his number in Salt Lake City. |
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| “Mom, that’s a terrible dream. Go back in the van and dream another one. And don’t say ‘fuck.’ You’re hooked up to the microphone and everyone in this room can hear you.” Then he wished me a happy birthday and apologized for not sending me anything. |
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| April 27, 1983—Free Agent |
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| He signed with the Seattle Seahawks! I can’t believe how excited I am that he’ll be in Washington, how much he’ll love it there—all the fishing he can do—how much I’ll love it with him there. His agent |
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| He signed with the Seattle Seahawks! I can’t believe how excited I am that he’ll be in Washington, how much he’ll love it there—all the fishing he can do—how much I’ll love it with him there. His agent |
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| convinced him, though there were fifteen other teams after him and the second one was the L.A. Raiders—L.A.where he’s wanted to play ball all his life—that he should sign with Seattle. They have a new coach, Chuck Knox, they offered him the most money, they’re trying to build up their offensive line. |
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| In the past 24 hours he’s flown twice to Seattle! |
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| Now I remember: all year he’s had the Seattle Seahawk’s logo on his University of Utah dorm door. |
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| xMay 8, 1983—Ashland, Oregon Mothers Day |
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| I got a huge bouquet of flowers today. The card says, “Happy Mother’s Day, Love, The Seattle Seahawks.” I wonder how they tracked me down. |
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| July 25, 1983—the moon in Aquarius |
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| I’m in Seattle at a women writer’s con­ference. The Olympic torch has been lit in Olympia, Greece, origin of the Olympic games nearly 2800 years ago. It will be carried by runners and planes to the 1984 Los Angeles Summer Olympic games. I read the sports page every day. Is it my imagination that men look at me oddly when they see this? |
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| My boss at the Back Alley Jazz Tavern in Port Townsend, one of my more optomistic friends, told me the odds are virtually nil for my boy to make it in pro ball. That was the first time I felt the spirit rise in me. The belief that he will make it. It’s true that I don’t know football but I know my kid. |
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| - |
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| I know him and I’m going to die for him if he gets cut. Days and nights I’m haunted by the fear that I didn’t encour­age him enough in other areas. What will he do if he doesn’t make it? Open a fish tackle shop, he told me once. “You know what I’m really interested in, Mom?” he said another time. “Oceanography.” I was thrilled. Of course. He loves the sea. |
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| I open the sport’s page, as always, check first the Cut List. Daniel Doubiago, OT, |
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| “ I was better than the guys they kept,” he said on the phone. “ But there were so many tackles I never even got a chance to show what I could do.” He drove to L.A. to stay rent-free with his father and be near his agent. Ithink it was his first long journey by himself. In Port Townsend, I felt every mile, every crack in his heart, his soul. In some ways it was the longest, most painful journey of my life. |
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| August 9, 1983—Troublesome Mom |
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| I wrote Chuck Knox a letter. I thanked him for the beautiful bouquet of flowers and told him he’d made a terrible mistake in cutting my son. I told him all the ways Danny is a great football player. I said it was immoral of him to sign so many guys to one position (twenty, I think, for offen­sive tackle) so they can’t be signed by other teams. |
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| Sandy, his girlfriend of three years in college cut him just days after the Sea­hawks. On the phone I could hear his heart breaking. Certainly his voice. My own screamed out for him. "Danny— don’t shut your heart down now." I was particularly concerned because of all times, he was staying now with his father, the man whose heart was destroyed so long ago. |
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| “ Look at me," I cried. “ You know as well as anyone what my men and love have done to me. And you know I never let them kill my heart, the thing they were all afraid of. If you let them kill your heart, everyone loses.” I repeated what I’d always told him. “Your heart, your great spirit, Danny, is what will make you a great athlete. Your body is small next to how large it must be. If you let it shrivel, die, if you turn bitter, cynical, you’ll never make it.” |
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| - |
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| His agent sent him to the Ram’s camp |
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| where he was tested by the line coach as |
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| having the greatest vertical jump from a |
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| still position of any offensive lineman |
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| he’d ever tested—33 inches. |
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| “What does that mean?” |
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| “ Explosive power,” he laughed, exag­ |
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| gerating the middle syllable of explosive. |
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| His broadjump was impressive too—9 feet, 7 inches. “Imagine,” his father ex­plained, “ if you got in the way of him in that nine feet.” |
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| But he wasn’t picked up. His hope rested with the USFL, the new spring football league. “ People talk to me all the |
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| But he wasn’t picked up. His hope rested with the USFL, the new spring football league. “ People talk to me all the |
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| time about the money I can make,” he said one night. “I don’t care about the money. 1just want to play. I’d pay to play.” |
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| December 18. 1983 —Port Townsend The Uptown Bar |
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| I’ve walked here to call Danny. The Seahawks are playing the New England Patriots. The excitement here is some­thing. A funny mixture, not your typical fans, at least as I assume them to be— poets, publishers, artists, fishers, log­gers, bartenders, dancers, hippies. Many think my son is still with the Sea­hawks. “No,” I explain to Linda, who’s marking the bet board, “ he was cut. He’s going to Pittsburgh. Something in his Seahawk’s contract makes him a Mauler.” “Oh,” she says, the response I will get over |
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| The guy next to me explains the USFL to her. I listen carefully. I love being in here. I’ll wait for the game to be over. I know Danny’s watching it in L.A. Told him I’d call tonight. A big effort on everyone’s part |
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| ing |
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| ing |
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| to get the whole family to Ashland for Christmas. |
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| “ I have to work out every day, Mom,” he had said to my urging. I found a gym in Ashland, told him to fly up on the |
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| 23rd, that I’d drive him down to L.A. on |
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| the 26th. He’s broke, almost as broke as |
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| me, but I’ll find some way. |
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| I love the excitement in here, the warmth of all these bodies. It’s a really cold winter. Why do Americans love foot­ball? The appeal for me is my son. These people love it. I saw a poll that says that football is the favorite of all sports among fans. I’m still so ignorant about the game. How will I ever learn it? |
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| Football is a collective effort. I under­stood that in Utah. A sort of communistic effort. You wouldn’t dare say such a thing, though. Now, on the TV, an inter­view with a Seahawk who’s a devout Christian. “It’s God’s will I’m not playing now.” Football is a Christian sport, I’m sure. How many American Jews, Moslems, Buddhists, Hindus, atheists, communists play football? "Aw, go back to the seminary,” David Sharp, poet and bartender, spits at the guy. |
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| After the game—phone booth on Lawrence Street |
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| "Yeah, I saw it.” The hurt in him be­comingbitterness. “Mom, Ican’tcometo Ashland. I’m on crutches. In a cast.” |
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| I die. In the phone booth. Frozen. |
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| “ I was jogging Friday night in a park near here, stepped in a hole. It sounded like a tree branch breaking. When I got home, Dad took me to Emergency. That doctor took X rays, said it was broken, put it in a cast. Next day, my agent set me up with one of the best doctors in sport’s medicine. He says it’s just a bad sprain. He thinks it will be ready in five days. It’s some sort of electronics, an electrical program. Expensive. I go back to him Wednesday, Thursday, |
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| Friday |
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| , V7 |
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| , V7 |
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| for treat­ |
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| for treat­ |
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| ment. In two weeks, January 15,1fly out of Carson City for Pittsburgh. |
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| “ Shit, I can’t believe it Mom, less than a month. No serious injuries in five years of college ball. I was getting in great shape just working out, keeping my spirits up, waiting. Pittsburgh is really high on me. Dick told me not to tell them. They'll just tell me not to come. Or send me home when I get there." |
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| I’m doodling a heart with an arrow shot through it. “ Did it happen at 7 pm?” "Yeah, exactly. Why? Was it the moon or what? It was full. I saw it rising.” |
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| “Yes, full in Cancer and the sun’s in Capricorn. Broken bones, alright. But that's not why I asked. I was running my­self and right at 7 pm I twisted my ankle on the ice. It wasn’t serious but it took my breath away. Now I know it shook me up because it was really happening to you.” |
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| Oh Christian, Jewish-Mormon-Buddhist-Hindu-Atheist-Communist-Ameri­ |
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| - |
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| si |
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| si |
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| si |
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| f |
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| is? |
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| can-FootballHippy-Astrology- |
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| - |
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| Poet Goddess, I pray to you, I beseech you, don't let them make a cripple of my son. |
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| December 24, 1983—Ashland ROZIER TO SIGN WITH MAULERS? |
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| In my Christmas card from Jack and Shirley Little, my Lakota Indian friends in Crazy Horse, North Dakota, there was an article that Heisman Trophy winner Mike Rozier has agreed to a three-year $3 mil­lion dollar contract with the Pittsburgh Maulers. It makes him the second high­est paid player in professional football. |
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| Danny’s contract is for $24,000. What will it do to his soul to block for a famous millionaire? |
35 |
| n January 17 in Ashland, I gave a poetry reading at The Vintage Inn, the begin­ning of a 1984 tour that included twenty­seven readings, several writing work­shops, an ecology conference and two benefits for Central America. This tour eventually took me as far south as San Diego and as far east as Massachusetts. |
35 |
| Mark showed up at the first Sacra­mento reading. Since I’ve always felt he left us eight years before because I be­came a poet—"taking a bath in public” he described my work then—his pres­ence seemed odd and a little wonderful. I learned that weekend that he was keep­ing as close tabs on Danny as I was. |
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| January 22, 1984 —The Superbowl |
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| I followed Mark to meet my brother |
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| Clarke in Modesto, two hours south of |
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| Sacramento, for the Superbowl in a deli |
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| • Ui |
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| • Ui |
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| - |
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| tv |
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| d |
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| n |
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| la o ilh M id a |
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| D |
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| D |
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| off Highway 99. All my brother’s friends were there. Clarke introduced me to Hank, a longhaired, longbearded cattle inseminator on his way to Nicaragua to work with farmers. He asked me about Danny and the Mauler’s training camp and suddenly, because Jim Plunkett was being interviewed on the big screen, asked me if I knew that both Plunkett’s parents are blind. And Indian. I was stun­ned. Blind? I could see the Indian. |
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| The game started. The place was packed, the excitement about the game, intense. To be raised by blind people would give you tactile, kinesthetic ge­nius. The best players are kinesthetic, |
36 |
| . my sister Donna Eden, the Ashland healer says. They can feel the whole field in motion. They know from the feeling where everyone is, what’s happening to them. Visuals learn the fastest. The speed of light is quickest. Auditories are second. Kinesthetics pick up vibrations. The speed of feeling is slowest. Football players get reputations for being slow or dumb because they’re such great feel­ers. It takes time to feel. It’s impossible to feel anything as fast as you receive light and sound. |
36 |
| I started to share this with Mark and Clarke, but Mark was suddenly saying that Danny probably won’t make it be­cause he’s lazy and Clarke was agree­ing—he’s really up against it now, pro camp ain’t no circus. I exploded. |
36 |
| “Lazy!” I spit, popcorn flying. “Lazy? The boy is in Florida in professional foot­ball camp playing with a broken ankle! Lazy! That’s the first thing you ever said about that boy, Mark, when he was five, and you’ve never been able to say any­thing else. Lazy is what you’ve always called your younger brother too, the one you’ re so jealous of! Lazy? and I chugalugged some beer to drown nearly twenty years of anger at this man and crunched down on a mouth full of pop­corn and broke an upper right tooth com |
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| - |
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| ■pletely off. My dog Moonlight was whin­ing for me at the door, everyone was pretending I wasn’t yelling. What is it in the love-hate relationship of the parents that makes a football player? |
36 |
| Sundays are cut days. That night at Clarke’s we called his father, George. “He’s playing with a brace but he hasn’t been cut yet.” |
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| February 19, 1984 —Santa Monica Midnight Special Bookstore |
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| I was standing at the podium about to begin my dedications, my “prayers,” when the phone rang. I waited, intuitively knowing it was for me. When the clerk hung up he walked over to me, handed me a tiny slip of paper. |
36 |
| “The guy on the phone said you’d |
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| know what this meant.” It said, “Danny made the team.” Squealing, I leaped over to Shawn, |
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| who was with me, and showed her. We jumped around, holding each other. It was the happiest poetry reading I ever gave. |
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| February 26, 1984—Manhattan Beach, L.A. The First Game |
36 |
| All alone in my ex’s bedroom, propped against the foot of his waterbed to watch my kid’s (our kid’s) game on TV. His first pro game, if he plays. Imagine. This is the kid I wouldn’t allow to have a television. Now I’m sitting here waiting to visit him on television. They were playing the Oakland-Arizona game, offering occa­sional updates on the others. |
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| George’s walls are covered in posters from the mid-sixties when we split and he moved in here. Big breasted blondes. Can’t help but notice they all look like me at 15 when we met. Don’t know where he is. |
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| “WELCOME TO THE SECOND SEA­SON OF THE UNITED STATES FOOT­BALL LEAGUE!” |
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| UPDATE: The Pittsburgh Maulers 0, The Oklahoma Outlaws 0. |
36 |
| Driving rain here in Tulsa. Rozier: five carries, one yard. A shot of the Maulers ontheirgoalline. I’mcertain Isee Danny. (Not really certain.) Rozier, the an­nouncer says, is having a hard time. Shit. My child has a broken ankle and a bad cold. |
36 |
| Halftime. The phone rings. Mark! “Yeah, it's me alright. No, I don't know where he is. Yes, Danny’s excited he made the team, though he found out he got the lowest contract of the team.” |
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| “Well, $24,000 is more than I make.” Same old tone in his voice, that I baby |
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| Danny. “The important thing is he made it.” “Yes, of course. It’s wonderful. Still, it’s demoralizing at thispoint. |
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| He hangs up abruptly. |
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| He hangs up abruptly. |
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| Imagine, my ex calling my other ex. As if he’s their son together. He’d have talked about football if I’d have been George, a guy. Now remember Danny, you’re a feminist. |
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| my son.” We pull right in. |
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| I wait in the lobby. The music is Paul Simon’s— “the motherand child reunion, is only a motion away.” Suddenly Danny is here. Always I’m shocked by his size. His arms when we hug. And something else. The sweetness is gone. |
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| “ Mom, what are you doing here?” That old exasperation. “Where’s Moonlight, where’s the van? I gotta go to practice, |
36 |
| I cbugalugged some beer to drown nearly twentyyears ofanger at this man and crunched down on a mouthfull ofpopcorn and broke an upper right tooth completely off What is it in the love-hate relationship |
36 |
| oftheparents that makes afootballplayer? |
36 |
| Final score: Pittsburgh 3, Oklahoma 7. Pittsburgh lost. I sit here, unable to move. March 3: Pittsburgh at Michigan, 24-27 Lost March 11: Birmingham at Pittsburgh, 30-18 Lost March 18: Pittsburgh at Washington: 16-7 Won March 24: Philadelphia at Pittsburgh, 25-10 Lost April 1: Oakland at Pittsburgh, 14-28 Won April 8: Pittsburgh at New Orleans, 24-27 Lost |
36 |
| II of March I holed up at my brother’s house in Modesto to prepare an Eco­Feminist paper to be delivered April 17 at |
36 |
| the University of Wisconsin. The time spent with my brother was good. I lost Danny more during this period than any other part of the season. Cramming, reading a hundred books, trying to under­stand how man’s fear of nature is the same as man’s fear of women. The paper |
36 |
| I finally wrote is called “ Mama Coyote Talks to the Boys.” In a stray note from this time I find: “ Rural is not wilderness. Football is not war.” |
36 |
| March 15: Phone call before the Washington game. I asked him about girlfriends in Pittsburgh. “ I remember you said just wait. I’ll find her.” |
36 |
| - |
36 |
| April 11—8 pm, Pittsburgh |
36 |
| Burst through a tunnel, suddenly Pitts­burgh, glitter of jewels on the junction of three rivers. Where the Allegheny and Monongahela birth the Ohio. “There’s Three Rivers Stadium,” someone says. Danny doesn’t know I’m coming. I decide not to call him. |
36 |
| The bus station is typically raunchy, typically frightening. Finally a taxi. A rat­tletrap. The guy about fifty, skinny and black. We talk. I’m high, excited. Feel safe in here with him. “ I thought this city was supposed to be ugly. It’s beautiful!" |
36 |
| you know. I can’t visit. I’m gone all day. The house is out in the boonies. What are you going tojdo out there?” |
36 |
| “I’ll just be here till the game. Don’t worry about me. I’ll read, write, walk. You know me. I love the boonies.” |
36 |
| In the basement where I sleep I read all night about the Pittsburgh Maulers, about the USFL, of players who have ricocheted back and forth to different teams for years. The story of Michigan’s David Tipton has me in tears. "Thank God,” his wife said, “for the USFL.” This from Kickoff, the official league maga­zine. I keep looking at the photos of the individual players. Some of their faces are wide open, clear and ebullient. Danny’s is serious, mean, sneering—a real mug shot. |
36 |
| April 12—Thursday |
36 |
| Waking. To their deep voices above me. Getting themselves up and off to work. Shredded wheat. How do they maintain their weight? Danny's voice gruff and serious. “ Has anyone ever vac­uumed this place?” In another minute, “ Listen. We gotta pay the rent.” A little |
36 |
| I while later the same thing. Imagine. My |
36 |
| son |
36 |
| is person in the |
36 |
| is person in the |
36 |
| Friday the Thirteenth * |
36 |
| Four of the boys just came home. Now they’re watching Loving, their favorite |
36 |
| I soap. “Written by the same lady who wrote All My Children,” the Free Safety, Dave Langlois, #22, tells me. Now Dave is vacuuming. His parents are coming from Palo Alto for the Denver Gold game on Saturday. “ My mom is ultra conservative,” he ex­plains,ashesucks undermyfeet. “She’ll give the place the white glove test.” Now Danny and I are driving the city. “ I can’t believe it. I finally have enough money to buy a pair of pants,” he says, wheeling me over the Ohio. “ Nowhere in this whole town can I find |
36 |
| “I ’m still trying to understand why men so universally turn awayfrom women. I’ve come to understand that this ultimately becomes a turningfrom life,from nature, that it’s the root of war. Men create war to compete with women who create life. ” |
36 |
| He points out the Libby Glass Building. A million square sheets of shining glass. Back across the Ohio, he points out Three Rivers Stadium. My son’s a Mauler, I tell him gleefully. We go across rivers, down into hollows, dark and mys­terious folds. We are out in the sticks. He’s worried. His first week on the job. The miles tick off. “ Look, why don’t you pull into the next restaurant and I’ll call |
36 |
| He points out the Libby Glass Building. A million square sheets of shining glass. Back across the Ohio, he points out Three Rivers Stadium. My son’s a Mauler, I tell him gleefully. We go across rivers, down into hollows, dark and mys­terious folds. We are out in the sticks. He’s worried. His first week on the job. The miles tick off. “ Look, why don’t you pull into the next restaurant and I’ll call |
36 |
| just wrote. He listens to me. For the first time this visit he seems to relax with me, dropping down into the real relationship. |
36 |
| “Well, I’m still trying to understand why men so universally turn away from women. I’ve come to understand that this ultimately becomes a turning from life, from nature, that it’s the root of war. Men create war to compete with women who create life. It seems that it has a lot to do |
36 |
| with the males seeking gender identity, |
36 |
| how the boy, unlike the girl, must differ­ |
36 |
| entiate completely from the mother. He |
36 |
| must pull back from his first great love, |
36 |
| the first God, withdraw and see her, learn |
36 |
| to be like the distant, probably absent |
36 |
| father. This is the ‘natural’ origin of |
36 |
| mother hate, of woman hate, of the |
36 |
| male’s embrace of everything opposite |
36 |
| from the mother: war, mechanism, mas­ |
36 |
| tery, control, abstraction, the intellectual |
36 |
| propensity toward anti-matter. Matter |
36 |
| comes from mater, that is mother.” |
36 |
| He is listening. He is actually looking at |
36 |
| me. I never dreamed I’d get this much |
36 |
| out. So I hurry on. |
36 |
| “ Ever since you were born I’ve tried to |
36 |
| understand why since women birth and |
36 |
| raise the boys, they grow up to be sol­ |
36 |
| diers. Why isn’t the world a more sen­ |
36 |
| suous, loving place. A more feminine |
36 |
| place? And you know what Danny? |
36 |
| There’s not a single book that I’ve been |
36 |
| to find on this subject. Women and |
36 |
| to find on this subject. Women and |
36 |
| war, mothers and soldiers. Not one! The |
36 |
| most fundamental, crucial issue. . He nodded at his burger. I looked at |
36 |
| mine. |
36 |
| “ But there s one book, the one I want |
36 |
| everyone to read. Dorothy Dinnerstein’s |
36 |
| The Mermaid and the Minotaur. She goes |
36 |
| into all of this. She describes the great |
36 |
| love the helpless infant feels for its |
36 |
| mother while still so dependent on her, |
36 |
| and how it inevitably suffers humiliation |
36 |
| and betrayal when it discovers that it is |
36 |
| not her only love. I rememl ten that |
36 |
| happened to you, and to Shawn too. Din |
36 |
| - |
36 |
| nerstein shows so clearly how and why |
36 |
| we are on this nuclear brink. I mean it’s |
36 |
| that heavy. We are finally going to destroy |
36 |
| ourselves in the oldest war, the war be­ |
36 |
| tween the sexes. |
36 |
| “So?” he says, signaling to the wait­ |
36 |
| ress for two more drafts. What’s to be |
36 |
| done?” |
36 |
| “ Dinnerstein says the men must raise |
36 |
| the babies. She says that the only way we |
36 |
| will survive is if half of the babies on earth |
36 |
| are raised by men in the first year or two |
36 |
| of their lives so that the first turning from |
36 |
| the parent—a necessary step for ego de­ |
36 |
| velopment— isn ’t universally from |
36 |
| women, from the feminine.” |
36 |
| When we finished, I reaci |
36 |
| purse. |
36 |
| “ I got it,” he says, laying down a twenty. |
36 |
| It’s the first food he’s ever bought for me. |
36 |
| It’s hard to let him do it. And not once in |
36 |
| this outrageous conversation did he ever |
36 |
| ridicule me, show his customary exas­ |
36 |
| peration, or even tease me. He listened. |
36 |
| It’s dark. We're crossing the Liberty |
36 |
| Street Bridge. I ask him about the |
36 |
| Maulers. How it all feels. |
36 |
| “The team’s actually doing good,” he |
36 |
| says. “We’re a tot better than the win/ |
36 |
| losses say.” He cites statistics, but I’m |
36 |
| still a football idiot. I understand what |
36 |
| he’s saying, but probably as he under­ |
36 |
| stood my mother-son rap, in a general, |
36 |
| intuitive way. “ We’ve almost won every |
36 |
| game. It’sjustweirdwehaven’t. Lastmin |
36 |
| - |
36 |
| tstuff. |
36 |
| u |
36 |
| e |
36 |
| D o you th in k jt s |
36 |
| “ |
36 |
| ' |
36 |
| morale?" |
36 |
| “Maybe. Idon’t know. But we still have |
36 |
| a good chance.” |
36 |
| My kid’s great spirit. The greatest. |
36 |
| April 13—Friday night, Skyvu Drive The ^Mother and Child Reunion |
36 |
| Danny's pleased now, or so it seems, |
36 |
| that I am here. I sit on the living room |
36 |
| floor, he in the recliner. We drink Irontown |
36 |
| Beer. The guys come in, sit down with us. |
36 |
| Now we’re on our third beer. We are |
36 |
| getting down to it. |
36 |
| “ I tell guys about you. Mom, and they |
36 |
| don’t believe me. You know, most of the |
36 |
| time I have no idea where you’re at.” |
36 |
| He gets to talking about Mendocino, |
36 |
| his high school years. A story about |
36 |
| Coach Mastin making them all run until |
36 |
| they puked. “You didn’t know that, did |
36 |
| you? I was the only one who didn’t.” He |
36 |
| tells about the time I did know of when |
36 |
| everyone on the basketball team quit ex­ |
36 |
| cept him after the Cloverdale Tourna­ |
36 |
| ment when Mastin threw the second |
36 |
| place trophy at them. |
36 |
| “Second place?” he sneered, holding |
36 |
| the trophy up in the locker room. “ Sec­ |
36 |
| ond place?” This after graciously accept­ |
36 |
| ing the trophy in the crowded gym above |
36 |
| after going into four overtimes. “ Second |
36 |
| place? You know what I think of second |
36 |
| place?” |
36 |
| “I saw it coming,” Danny says, “ I |
36 |
| barely ducked in time. It whizzed right by |
36 |
| my ear, slammed against the locker room |
36 |
| wall, shattering into a hundred pieces. |
36 |
| Monday morning back at Mendo High |
36 |
| Clinton St. Quarterly |
36 |
| Clinton St. Quarterly |
36 |
| the entire team quit. They’d told their par­ents. They said the coach was a bad sport. I spent that whole week talking to every guy, trying to get him to come back. Eventually most of them did, but you have no idea, Mom. You have no idea.” |
37 |
| “ Mastin told me once,” Danny says. “What’s worse? A cop or a ref? I never forgot that." |
37 |
| I look at my son, a little dumbfounded. This poor kid who was raised by the greatest cop hater of all time, Mark. And now I discover that Danny doesn’t even know, much less understand what hap­pened to Mark. Why he was in jail so much of the ‘60s when he first started living with us. |
37 |
| “ I remember waiting in the car outside the jail in downtown L.A. while you visited him. I was five. I was scared.” |
37 |
| I tell him about the draft, about Mark’s refusing to go to Vietnam, how they wouldn’t recognize him as a conscien­tious objector. “You know what made him decide to refuse induction? He imagined himself years later trying to explain to his children why he had killed, why he had gone along with the state, followed orders. |
37 |
| “ I think I might have been blackballed, Mom,” he responds.’’Because you made me register for the draft as a conscien­tious objector.” |
37 |
| This is the first I knew that he regis­tered as a conscientious objector. June, 1979. He had just gotten home from his first year in college. Carter was reinstitut­ing the draft. All boys born in 1960 had to register. I took him to see a volunteer counselor. I felt it was my duty to inform him of the alternatives, including not reg­istering at all, and then I let him go. I assumed he had rejected the C.O. sta­tus. I never asked. |
37 |
| “ I think it might have hurt me in foot­ |
37 |
| ball, caused me some trouble.” |
37 |
| “What if there had been a war? Would |
37 |
| you have been a soldier? What if there is |
37 |
| one?” |
37 |
| Oh, I don’t know. Maybe.” |
37 |
| “Well, Daniel. That’s why the draft is |
37 |
| wrong. An 18 year old doesn’t know his |
37 |
| mind. He registers just like his parents |
37 |
| tell him. |
37 |
| As we drink another Irontown, the |
37 |
| years and distances and differences |
37 |
| seem to melt away. I am so happy to be |
37 |
| here on this floor, connecting with my kid. |
37 |
| And he is clearly happy too. Then he tells |
37 |
| me the article [’’SON” , Clinton St. Quar­ |
37 |
| terly, Fall, 1983] I wrote about him is |
37 |
| wrong. “All sorts of things in it are |
37 |
| wrong.” |
37 |
| “It wasn’t Jan who made that pillow |
37 |
| with American Pro crocheted on it” —the |
37 |
| one stuffed with panty hose I use in the |
37 |
| van. “That pillow was made by Sandy.” |
37 |
| He was a freshman in high school, Sand |
37 |
| - |
37 |
| ywas a senior in love with him. |
37 |
| “ I don’t know how to explain it. But |
37 |
| after Jan and I had sex I just lost interest. |
37 |
| I don’t know why, but that’s what hap­ |
37 |
| pened. I began seeing things about her I |
37 |
| didn’t like. I guess you wouldn’t approve, |
37 |
| being a feminist and all, but that’s what |
37 |
| happened.” |
37 |
| Mybreath isgone. Idon’t know how to |
37 |
| respond, what to say. My ears are ring­ |
37 |
| ing. I want to cry. |
37 |
| “I didn’t know how,” he goes on, so |
37 |
| strong and direct, as if it’s important to |
37 |
| tell methis, “totell someone Ididn’t want |
37 |
| to be with them anymore.” |
37 |
| I see beautiful Jan wandering lost out­ |
37 |
| side the dark gym where he is playing the |
37 |
| basketball game that will make him once |
37 |
| again the league’s Most Valuable Player. |
37 |
| I know all the heartbreaking betrayals of |
37 |
| my own men. I remember the mermaid |
37 |
| and the minotaur, those mythical, half­ |
37 |
| human, half-animal creatures so sym­ |
37 |
| bolic of the human race. |
37 |
| I don’t know how to respond, what to |
37 |
| say. I feel like I’m turning to stone. Later |
37 |
| I’ll remember Dinnerstein’s explanation |
37 |
| of this common experience, the male’s |
37 |
| fear in sex of losing his hard earned dis­ |
37 |
| tance from the female, of losing his very |
37 |
| masculinity. Rejecting Her (his mother) |
37 |
| was his first act of will. But now on this |
37 |
| floor my heart pounds. I know all too well |
37 |
| my part in this scenario. |
37 |
| He is telling me I am full of it. I don’t |
37 |
| know who he is. He is telling me he is not |
37 |
| just my son. He is his own person. He is |
37 |
| telling me that his life, his psyche is not |
37 |
| so simple as I assume. |
37 |
| / am telling you who I am. I am telling you so that you may know me. So that you who are my mother, who are so wise, so full of love, can really love, can make use of love with all the facts, if as you say, Mom, this istheheartofwar, ofthegriefof |
37 |
| / am telling you who I am. I am telling you so that you may know me. So that you who are my mother, who are so wise, so full of love, can really love, can make use of love with all the facts, if as you say, Mom, this istheheartofwar, ofthegriefof |
37 |
| our sexual arrangements, if this is why we great thing we have in common, “when are about to destroy the earth. But will he was small, loved to go out and play ball you? Can you? Can you love me? in the mud.” |
37 |
| Mrs. Langlois' long red-painted nails, |
37 |
| April 14, 1984—Three Rivers |
37 |
| extended toward the father of her child, |
37 |
| Stadium |
37 |
| rise and then fall like rain on the back of |
37 |
| Denver at Pittsburgh, 2:30 pm the front seat. She turns her perfect pro­ |
37 |
| Mr. and Mrs. Langlois pick me up at the file to him. Dave is her baby. She even house, an elegant, attractive couple in says it. At this moment all the world—the their fifties. She wears a silver fur. They car, the beautiful couple, the sky, the rain |
37 |
| “Afte rJanand I badsexIjust lost |
37 |
| interest. I don't know why, but that’s what happened. I began seeing things about her I didn’tlike. Iguess you wouldn’t approve, |
37 |
| being afeminist and all. ” |
37 |
| “Is this what I birthed and raised my child for? Football? What would my son be, with hisperfect,giant body, in aperfect society? And there remains the other great mystery. What is thefunction of this game for the spectators? Why do Americans love football?’’ |
37 |
| don’t seem to know what to make of me. and hail, the three rivers, the cement sta­ |
37 |
| My leather motorcycle jacket, my many dium as we pull up to it—is silver. |
37 |
| earrings, my red punk shoes, my U.S. They let me off near my entrance. I feel |
37 |
| OUT OF EL SALVADOR button. On the like one of their kids, climbing out of the |
37 |
| way to the stadium the rain that has been backseat. Be good I expect them to say. |
37 |
| blowing and falling since yesterday be­The ushers and stadium workers are on |
37 |
| comes a downpour. Turns to hail. She is strike. The first picket line I ever walked |
37 |
| worried her son will be hurt. “ Danny,” I through. Here comes the sun! I can’t be­ |
37 |
| say from the backseat, trying to lift the lieve it, they’re playing the Beatles as I |
37 |
| mood, trying to connect with the one come down the aisle. It’salright. . Sec­ |
37 |
| mood, trying to connect with the one come down the aisle. It’salright. . Sec­ |
37 |
| tion 222, Row O, Seat 4. The Denver Gold. I feel sort of like a bride. The sun splashes everything. |
37 |
| A twelve-year-old girl in an aqua jump suit sings the Star Spangled Banner. I always forget about this. My old vow not to stand for the flag that took us into Vietnam. Why is the national anthem sung at games? As always, it is a near unbearable moment. I feel so deeply the insult to the others, their eyes on me un­believing. Are you really not standing for the flag? |
37 |
| He’s listed in the starting lineup: |
37 |
| Flowers, Maggs, Corbin, Correal, Lukens, Doubiago, Raugh, Anderson, Carano, t Coles, Rozier. Offense. |
37 |
| Now the Flashdancers. “A bit of flash with a touch of class.” Twenty-six purple leotards, red-sashed tits and asses. Sil­ |
37 |
| ver heels. Maniac! She’s a maniac for your love. |
37 |
| Kickoff. First play, the guy gets by |
37 |
| Danny. Second play, Danny stops him. |
37 |
| Now patting the ref. “What’s worse,” he |
37 |
| said, “ a cop or a ref?” |
37 |
| End of the first quarter: Maulers 14, the |
37 |
| Gold 0. |
37 |
| Gold 0. |
37 |
| Second Quarter: Danny's never still. |
37 |
| Defense is in now. His helmet off, talking |
37 |
| to a coach. |
37 |
| “ The pressure on these guys is |
37 |
| murder,” says Tony, a man behind me. |
37 |
| Danny Boy of the Great Spirit runs |
37 |
| right into the endfield when Greg Ander­ |
37 |
| son makes the touchdown. Congratu­ |
37 |
| lates him. “On a bootleg rollout. . .a |
37 |
| fake. . .the quarterback does it on his |
37 |
| own.” Talking the special language of |
37 |
| football that is not necessarily self- |
37 |
| explanatory. |
37 |
| I’m watching Danny’s every move, |
37 |
| Clinton St. Quarterly 37 |
37 |
| every squat, rise, block, his great arms bent in front of him at the elbows, but even here I’m falling into philosophy, po­etry, Americana. I start a letter on the program to an old love. |
38 |
| “ The football player in America is like the artist in America*. When Danny was in high school and it was apparent that ath­letics was to be his path, I often equated, to him and to my friends, the poet and the athlete, focusing on the high ambition in both to excel, the spirituality of the quest to find the self-genius. (Genius, genii: guardian deity or spirit of a person.) Muse and second wind, as Dannyhimselffound out, are the same word in Greek. This was an important revelation as all my friends were ra |
38 |
| “ . . .like the artist in America! The same loner, the same heroic figure so out­sidethemainstream, butperformingforit. Both are like the shaman, the one who heats oneself, who comes back trans­formed from the mutilating experience to show the world how. The same quest in both for magic, transcendence, the same vision toturn theself, greatinallofus, into the supremacy of the collective human whole. . . the same insecurities (“ No job security, Mom.” ), and often the same rootless lifestyle. |
38 |
| “Still I have these funny moments. Is this what I birthed and raised my child for? Football? What would my son be, with his perfect, giant body, in a perfect society? And there remains the other great mystery. What is the function of this game for the spectators? Why do Ameri­cans love football?" |
38 |
| I write in circles and leaps around the names and stats, wherever there’s a blank. Isign myletterwith abigAmerican kiss. Halftime: 21-0, Maulers. |
38 |
| This is really amazing. My first pro game and my kid is playing every play. Just like this was high school. But now, this is what happens when you gloat. |
38 |
| “ Hey Sharon, your son held them up!” the beer vendor is leering in my face. Saliva. “They’ll be practicing that one all week,” Tony spits. At me, it seems. |
38 |
| Langlois misses the ball, coming right at him. The Gold make a touchdown. 21-13 now, third quarter. “That's it,” says Fred, Tony’s partner. “ Games over. 21-13. I don’t think anyone’s going to score now.” |
38 |
| Dave Langlois intercepts. 9;19 left. Now 21-21. Dave Langlois down. Hurt. Spread out on the field. Danny walking back and forth, helmet off, kicking pop­cans. The Flashdancers take advantage |
38 |
| Carl Leusenkamp. Mesa. Arizona 1984 US Olympic Bicycle Team Coach Current National Cycling Team Coach for Track Racing |
38 |
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38 |
| of the break—she’s a maniac. How obscene they are, shaking their purple bodies, Dave in pain behind them. |
38 |
| Suddenly my friends get up to leave. 27-21 Gold. Tap my shoulder, bend per­functorily to me. “ So long. Tell your son good luck.” They say this very ironically. “Very nice to meet you.” |
38 |
| “There go your fans,” the announcer says. “Today’s attendance, ladies and |
38 |
| “There go your fans,” the announcer says. “Today’s attendance, ladies and |
38 |
| ball with a mom like me? |
38 |
| “Iwas stronger than sixty” —He’stalk­ing slowly to Hoss now, low and de­pressed. We’re coming across the dark, swollen Ohio— “but he found my weak­ness. Kept going for it. One time,” he sits up, “ he went for my eyes with his fingers.” |
38 |
| That’d really screw up a dyslexic, I think. |
38 |
| “The reason, ”he says, pronouncing each word with hate, “I've not been as good as I should be is that I have the unfortunate luck of beingfrom a ninth-generation |
38 |
| hippy mother.” |
38 |
| gentleman, sixteen thousand, seven hundred and thirty three.” |
38 |
| Tony’s face, manner and gesture. Hatred. The scorn of the fan. The power. The fans’ role in this, the fans’ impor­tance. We will show you, your very son sprawled broken on that field, you people from God knows where with your motor­cycle jackets and your silver furs, that the game is finally ours, that finally we can desert you. I feel hurt, like a lover has betrayed me. |
38 |
| I didn’t even see it, but I guess he fucked up. Shaking his head. Now on his knees. Pounding his helmet to the ground. God Danny, get up. the gong and hiss of the maul on steel rings out. 31 -21. Now the fans are gone. Just us family left. Wives and moms, the girls. As they drive up the field. Four seconds. Danny down. Holding his right arm as if it hurts. Someone down there yelling at him, hanging over the cement wall. Head down. Sun in Libra, moon in Scorpio, God, can’t you see how bad he feels, leave him |
38 |
| I come home with Danny and Hoss. I sit in the back. Hoss drives. Though he sat through the entire game, it is he who consoles my son. “You did okay, a few mistakes at the end, that’s all.” |
38 |
| “I thought you played great,” I offered my head to the guillotine. The truth is I did. Somehow I was blind that last quarter, didn’t see any of it. |
38 |
| “Mom, you don’t know nothing. . .(the disgust is horrible). . .about football. Didn’t you see those sacks I allowed?” |
38 |
| I’m sure I’m somehow to blame for them. How are you going to make it in pro |
38 |
| “As I was leaving the field a fan yelled at me. ‘ You motherfucker*.’ That’s the first time in my whole life I’ve been booed.” Motherfucker. First time I ever heard that word. A month after your father and I were married. China Lake Naval Air Sta­tion, the Mojave Desert in July, 1959. Motherfucker. It was the first word George had said to me since the wedding. His commanding officer, this short guy, called him a motherfucker. He mumbled all this, . barely a whisper as he slid behind the |
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| wheel, but the hot air exploded, his embarassment that he had said this word to me, that he had said any word to me. It did make me gasp, my heart stop, I’d never thought of that before, heard it, the con.cept, motherfucker. So I laughed, sweetly, gratefully. I was so happy he had finally spoken. I wanted him to know there was nothing he couldn't say to me. There |
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| - |
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| - |
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| wasn’t. |
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| Now I am coming with our son, our warrior who has just lost a battle, into the dark Whitehall. Somehow I’m surprised, how they just go home now, like all people after work. In the backseat I see the Flashdancers kicking in a chorus line across the dark Appalachian hills. |
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| Maniac. |
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| Dave and Mr. Langlois sit on the couch, |
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| Dave and Mr. Langlois sit on the couch, |
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| Dave leaning into his father’s arms. His |
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| pants are down around his ankles, he has |
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| grey sweat shorts on beneath, an ice |
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| pack on his elevated knee, a beer be­ |
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| tween his thighs. Mrs. Langlois brings |
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| her husband a screwdriver. |
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| Danny is convinced he’s going to be |
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| Danny is convinced he’s going to be |
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| cut. “Don’tthinkI’llbe atthe L.A. game.” |
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| His father is very excited about this |
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| game, May 5; is chartering a bus of Dou- |
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| La Paloma |
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| biago fans from Manhattan Beach. |
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| “Your life is as insecure as a poet’s,” I say, gently grinning. He grins back. Hoss is talking about his father, the 135-ton truck he drives. We parents and our love is getting to him. |
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| We are all a little drunk, sweetly so. Mrs. Langlois tells her husband she wants to sit next to her son. She eases into Dave’s left side. Her nails so perfect and red around his neck. “ If you were younger,” she says to him, “ I could kiss it.” It never occurs to me that this boy is seriously hurt. They just sent him home, but on Monday he’ll have X rays. Surgery on Tuesday. Out for the season. |
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| In the night girls coming and going, doors slamming. The guys’ depression my own, like the weight of the house on top of me. All night I think it’s time to get up, afraid I’ll miss my 6 am bus. Wanting to free him of me. Get out of here. “The mother of a warrior, the most honorific role of all,” says Mary Gordon, in a rare essay about birthing a son. I read the word as “ horrific.” |
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| April 22, 1984—Easter Sunday Martha’s Vineyard |
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| I watch the New Jersey Generals play the Maulers live at Three Rivers Stadium on a black and white in the kitchen of the small house where I am staying. Watch­ing my kid. Again, that lonely feeling, the strangeness of watching TV by myself. It’s like a live visit. Where I was last week. Wonder if Fred and Tony who sat behind me are in their seats. It’s the mid-point of the season and the announcers are dis­cussing the Mauler’s heartbreaking losses—how statistically they are one of the top teams—but have los |
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| May 5, 1984— Boston, phone with Shawn |
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| “You know what happened, Mom! You won’t believe this. The Hole-in-the-Wall got a bus for Doubiago fans from Man­hattan Beach to go to the Pittsburgh-L.A. game. Everyone had jerseys with Dou­biago written on them. They served mar­garitas on the bus. Ugh. I hate to get drunk. After the game Danny came back with us. Dad was so sweet, enthusiastic, loving to him. He treats me like I’m not here. I just started crying. You know what Dad said to me then. He said I had to get tough. I was too sensitive. He said I |
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| wouldn’t believe what’s happened to him, the horrible things. You know what I think. I think that's why he looks the way he does. He’s stuffed everything inside, kept it there.” |
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| May 12, 1984—Boston Houston at Pittsburgh |
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| After dinner with friends of Michael’s (the poet Michael Daley), I found out a Mauler’s game was going to be on TV. They begged me to go off with them to record poetry. Bob said he would tape it and I could watch it when we got back. I could care poop about a tape. Ha! This was live. The announcer kept saying “ Doubiago.” I think he liked saying the name. “With a name like Doubiago,” Nancy Littleriver said to me once at a high school game, “ he’s bound for the pros.” Doubiago played great against Houston. K |
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| May 20, 1984—Ohio, I-75S |
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| Michael picked me up in Toledo in a driveaway, a ‘66 Volvo. We stay at his great aunt’s in Swanson, Ohio, and after an evening of WW1 stories of the genera­tions on his father’s side, the Irish, when I finally slept I had this nightmare: |
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| The team, lined up one behind the other, all the way back to the goalpost. Danny is about sixth back. Each player runs forward to me, then splits off to the side, one to the left, the next to the right. Then Danny moves up and out, to the right, sneering at me. The sneer deform­ing his face as he comes out from behind the guys. “The reason,” he says, pro­nouncing each word with hate, “ I’ve not been as good as I should be is that I have the unfortunate luck of being from a ninth-generation hippy mother.” |
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| May 21, 1984—Louisville, Ken­tucky, Kupie’s Bar Monday Night Football-Pittsburgh at New Jersey |
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| - |
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| The bartender had the game on both his big screen and on the TV at the other end of the bar. I kept looking from one to the other all night. On one screen he was so big he was in danger of disappearing like a forest for the trees. In the other he was so contracted, so bright, so small, he looked like a pawn in an important chess game, a stick of dynamite (a burning red star) before it goes off. |
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| A great shot of his ass. This side, that. The veins in his hand, his wrist, my wrists. “You want to see an offensive line­ |
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| A great shot of his ass. This side, that. The veins in his hand, his wrist, my wrists. “You want to see an offensive line­ |
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| man as a tight end. Watch Doubiago.” Daniel Clarke Doubiago in slow motion making a great block all across the coun­try. ESPN. Ain’t that America! It’s happy hour at the Seagull and at Dick’s in Men­docino, in Eugene where my parents are watching, in Manhattan Beach, a great lunge and tumble for his dad. I’ ve never been so happy. |
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| I left a big tip. I was certain the bar­ |
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| “ Number 72 of the offense: holding.” The referee, so self-righteous, pointing his finger at my child. “What’s worse, a ref or a cop?” There was always a sense of tolerance in my family, but behind that an inflexible ethic of right and wrong. I know I passed that shitty trait, the horror of it at least, onto my child. To point your finger at him, for the whole nation of TV to be watching—the humiliation. I hear that |
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| “LastMonday this girl comes skipping across thefloor. I thought who’s this idiot on my hands now. I thought, oh boy, she’s on the drug. ”Still I can ’t help it. I’m jumping around, squealing again. |
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| tender thought we were rich, the parents of a pro. We drove about fifty miles, found a field to sleep in. |
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| June 11, 1984—Port Angeles, WashingtonSan Antonio at Pittsburgh |
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| The Chinook Pancake House and Lounge is a dive: the damp air of the Straits, the logging/fishing atmosphere of the docks, this skid road of bars from the turn of the century. This could be the last game I ever see of my son. I have friends along from Port Townsend. |
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| “ Have a good game, Babe.” John, last week’s asshole bartender, is handing me a beer, his face open and sweet. Then I hear him telling my motley crew— “ Last Monday this girl comes skipping across the floor. I thought who’s this idiot on my hands now. I thought, oh boy, she’s on the drug.” Still I can’t help it. I’m jumping around, squealing again. Danny! Right there! That funny way he runs, just like when he was ten months old. |
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| Amazing the rhythm week after week. The big game. As if the only one ever. To imagine ones whole life doing this, down on the line, down and block. All the time I was in Utah I wanted him to dress me in the uniform, the whole thing, so I could know the experience of that. |
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| A devastating close-up of him coming out of a play. The nastiest sneer imagin­able, except in my dreams. Pat behind me moans, “Oh no, Sharon.” Dear Danny, so you finally found the way to become mean. Oh sweetheart. Don’t do it. I know you’re losing so bad, you’re humiliated, butthetrueathlete won’t lose heart, no matter what. |
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| sound I first heard at Three Rivers Sta­dium, that clang, then hizzzzzz of the maul hitting steel, the sound of the foundry on the street I grew up on, Indus­trial Avenue. The pissed fans. “This is the thirteenth loss for Pittsburgh.” Score: 21-3 San Antonio. |
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| “ The great fear that athletes have, George Plimpton says, “is the fear of hu­miliation. They don’t think that much about being hurt, they don’t even think that much about winning. ” |
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| I drive us west out of town. The moun­tains of Canada are streaks of gold in the silver sky. I stop at the very end of Ediz Hook, the two mile sand spit that curls out into the Straits. The water laps all around us, the water in the rainbow colors of the setting sun. We are looking back on the small city, lighting up pow as the sunlight leaves. Port Angeles, redneck maverick capital of the Northwest, whose founding history is of collectives, communes, uto­pian communities. A port for the angels. For us. The |
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| What happens to your American soul when, despite all your efforts, the laying of your body and soul on the line, you keep losing? |
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| Danny Doubiago played the 1985 sea­son with the L.A. Express. With the USFL’s dissolution, he is dealing black­jack in a casino in Reno, Nevada, biding his time while hoping something breaks in the NFL. |
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| “Oneoftheproblems ofbeing a football player—and they’re starting it now in the third and fourth grade—zs that you get somebody telling you what to do, when to do it, why to do it, where to do it, and that’s everyting. It’s all encompassing. It’s classes, it’s school, it's what you eat, it’s what you do while you play. It’s everyting. You get a lifetime of that jammed down your throat and all of a sudden you find yourself 25 or 30 years old—how do you change? You don’t break those habits easily. It’s frighte |
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| Writer-Poet Sharon Doubiago travels around the United States from her current homebase in Sherwood, Oregon. She has just completed a book-length poem, South America Mi Hija, about travelling with her teenage daughter Shawn in “direct quest of the problems of racism, sexism and war.” She is the author of the epic poem Hard Country and has won two recent Pushcart Prizes. |
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| ECKANKAR® Northwest Regional Seminar THE LIGHT AND SOUND OF LOVE: THE SACRED WAY Saturday, January 31,1987 1:00-5:15 PM 7:30-9:00 PM Sunday, February 1,1987 9:15-11:30 AM 1:00-3:30 PM FREE INTRODUCTORY TALK SATURDAY 10:30-11:30 AM World Forestry Center, 4033 SW Canyon Road, Portland For Information: Visit the Portland ECK Center, 3341 SE Hawthorne Blvd. Phone (503) 233-1595 Sponsored by ECKANKAR students of Oregon |
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| ECKANKAR® Northwest Regional Seminar THE LIGHT AND SOUND OF LOVE: THE SACRED WAY Saturday, January 31,1987 1:00-5:15 PM 7:30-9:00 PM Sunday, February 1,1987 9:15-11:30 AM 1:00-3:30 PM FREE INTRODUCTORY TALK SATURDAY 10:30-11:30 AM World Forestry Center, 4033 SW Canyon Road, Portland For Information: Visit the Portland ECK Center, 3341 SE Hawthorne Blvd. Phone (503) 233-1595 Sponsored by ECKANKAR students of Oregon |
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| ECKANKAR® Northwest Regional Seminar THE LIGHT AND SOUND OF LOVE: THE SACRED WAY Saturday, January 31,1987 1:00-5:15 PM 7:30-9:00 PM Sunday, February 1,1987 9:15-11:30 AM 1:00-3:30 PM FREE INTRODUCTORY TALK SATURDAY 10:30-11:30 AM World Forestry Center, 4033 SW Canyon Road, Portland For Information: Visit the Portland ECK Center, 3341 SE Hawthorne Blvd. Phone (503) 233-1595 Sponsored by ECKANKAR students of Oregon |
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| “Absorbing and sparklingly fresh biography... we see Thoreau perhaps more vividly than ever before, as traveler of the mind, significant thinker and likable man.” |
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| ost people view the growing economic crisis as evidence of something gone wrong. Depending on ones eco­nomic philosophy, one can put the blame on various groups and institutions. Conservatives point to the govern­ment, monetarists blame the Federal Reserve Bank, Marx­ |
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| - |
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| ists blame the capitalist system, politicians blame their predecessors, consumers blame big business and OPEC, |
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| the |
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| the |
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| e |
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| and big business has blamed consumers, OPEC, and government. Like a losing team, we see only our failure, and as a result, we have turned on one another. Economic opinion has diverged because the economic events of the past decade do not fit into any economic theory. We are bewildered by an economy in which some suffer while others grow rich, in which some towns are worse off than they were during the Depression while others are booming. The economy defies not only prognostication but categori­zation. Some |
42 |
| There is another way to look at present passage from one structure to the next. economic events. We have entered a pe­Current economic problems are no more riod between economies, or, to be more a sign of failure than adolescence is the precise, between economic structures, failure of childhood. While coming of age and the troubled economy reflects the may not be the most apt metaphor for our |
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| By Paul Hawken |
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| By Paul Hawken |
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| crisis, it at least expresses the trauma that can accompany rapid change vyhen proper understanding is lacking. |
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| The reason it is difficult to step back and see an underlying pattern is that many things are wrong. We have gone from double-digit inflation and recession under President Carter to double-digit unemployment and recession under President Reagan. Unquestionably, we are witnessing the relative decline of what I call the mass economy, the econ­omy of the industrial age, a period during which nations amassed enormous man­ufacturing capabilities that depended on |
42 |
| the large-scale' extraction of resources, particularly fossil fuels. The mass econ­omy was a formative economy in which virtually all of the work that human beings once did by hand or with the assistance of animals became mechanized through the use of machinery, technology, and energy. This mechanization included the development of the automobile, steel, rubber, chemical, electrical, heavy equip­ment, and machine tool industries, as well as the thousands of businesses re­quired to support them. Infusing the |
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| political administration. Under this seg­ment is the market economy, the making and selling of goods: businesses, stores, shops, and farms. Submerged further, but just as important, is what Braudel calls ‘material life,’ the constant and un­defined activity of sharing and barter, the giving and taking and making of objects and services between people in local areas. This most basic level—a ‘rich zone, like a layer covering the earth’— and the market economy above it have changed dramatically in the past dec |
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| A |
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| X Adaptation to the rising cost of energy is creating the informative economy. In­dustry is inventing more efficient man­ufacturing processes and redesigning products so that they use lighter, more durable materials and require smaller |
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| we do not bemoan the fact that when our sons and daughters come of age they cease to grow taller. At adulthood, we entirely redefine the concept of growth. Can we not define the economy similarly? |
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| econ |
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| econ |
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| amounts of capital investment as well as less energy to produce. American cars weigh 30 percent less than they did a decade ago, last longer, and are more fuel-efficient. New housing is smaller, uses fewer building materials, and needs less heating and cooling. Consumers wanting to preserve their standard of liv­ing are choosing those products that conform to this adaptation while shun­ning those that ignore it. The result is less consumption of materials and energy (mass). |
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| One way to reduce consumption is through microelectronics. The industrial age mechanized manual labor; now sem­iconductors and microprocessors are bringing technology to the mind: analy­sis, communication, design, and deci­sion-making. The microprocessor im­parts to manufacturing processes, products, and services much of the power of the human nervous system. Au­tomobile engineers have discarded the bulky carburetor for electronic fuel-injec­tion in order to reduce waste and in­ |
43 |
| One way to reduce consumption is through microelectronics. The industrial age mechanized manual labor; now sem­iconductors and microprocessors are bringing technology to the mind: analy­sis, communication, design, and deci­sion-making. The microprocessor im­parts to manufacturing processes, products, and services much of the power of the human nervous system. Au­tomobile engineers have discarded the bulky carburetor for electronic fuel-injec­tion in order to reduce waste and in­ |
43 |
| crease efficiency. The Boeing 767, part of the new generation of fuel-efficient air­craft, could not have been designed with­out computers. Such repetitive service occupations as bank teller and telephone operator are being replaced by silicon-chip microprocessors. This is how infor­mation is replacing mass—by revolution­izing the design, creation, and function of goods and services. Whether in satellites or subcompact cars, toasters or tractors, semiconductor technology is reducing the size, cost, and ener |
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| Whether the conservation of mass is accomplished through the new tech­niques of computer technology or the vir­tues of workmanship and design, the in­formative economy comprises those individuals, companies, and institutions that understand that every unit of phys­ical resource, regardless of whether it is a gallon of oil, a ton of steel, or a stand of timber, will need greatly increased intel­ligence (informed activity) to transform |
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| ^ I l lustration by^g iBruce McGillivray^ |
43 |
| ^ I l lustration by^g iBruce McGillivray^ |
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| raw material into the components of truly economic goods or the instruments of effective services. The ratio between mass and information is changing, and it must continue to change. Our prosperity depends on it. |
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| There is no better example of the shift from a mass economy to an informative one than energy conservation. To con­serve means to reduce the amount of mass—in this case, energy, in the form or oil, coal, and gas—used by industry, transportation, and housing. To do so re­quires information—new technologies, improved designs, and better mainte­nance. Pacific Gas and Electric, the na­tion’s largest utility, has realized that it is less expensive to offer no-interest loans to homeowners for insulation and weath |
43 |
| It was the philosophy of the mass econ­omy that conservation was a negligible factor in the ability of the United States to achieve energy independence. All ad­ministrations since 1973 have concen­trated on new energy production. Presi­dent Reagan, asked about conservation in his energy policy, described it as ‘being hot in the summer and cold in the winter.’ Despite such government at­titudes, the U.S. economy is moving rapidly toward energy conservation, promising to make it one of the biggest industries |
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| om |
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| per gallon—almost triple the 1974 aver­ |
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| age of 14 milesper gallon. |
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| Reagan’s attitudes reflect the com­ |
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| monly held belief that energy conserva­ |
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| tion is not economic growth whereas en­ |
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| ergy exploration and development are. If |
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| our view of healthy economic growth is |
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| synonymous with more, what do we call |
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| an economy that consumes less and pre­ |
43 |
| serves more? For example, suppose a |
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| person who used to buy a new car every |
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| three years finds a mechanic who makes |
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| this proposition: he will maintain the new |
43 |
| car from the outset for a period of twelve |
43 |
| years for a flat fee of $1,000 per year plus |
43 |
| parts. The contract, although expensive |
43 |
| at first, shifts the advantage, as time |
43 |
| goes on, to the owner, who has not had to |
43 |
| replace his vehicle in the fourth, seventh, |
43 |
| and tenth years. The mechanic will only |
43 |
| benefit if he does an excellent job of |
43 |
| maintenance. If he does a bad job, the |
43 |
| car will break down, and his income per |
43 |
| hour will drop. In this situation, society |
43 |
| has received the benefit of a car—trans­ |
43 |
| portation—for less cost than it would ' |
43 |
| have if it replaced the car; less materials |
43 |
| have been used and more labor has been |
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| used per year than would have been em­ |
43 |
| ployed making a new car every three |
43 |
| years. The problem is that productivity |
43 |
| has gone down and the economy has |
43 |
| shrunk, as has the auto industry. Such a |
43 |
| practice would be reminiscent of the an­ |
43 |
| cient Chinese method of paying the phy |
43 |
| cient Chinese method of paying the phy |
43 |
| - |
43 |
| sician a retainer as long as the patient is healthy; when the patient gets sick, the retainer is dropped until the patient re­covers. The incentive on the doctor’s side is to keep the patient healthy, as no bene­fit is derived from pathology. Since the GNP currently grows as someone gets ill, is an economy in which the GNP goes up when cars last and people are healthy conceivable? Imagining such an econ­omy requires an entirely different com­prehension of growth. |
43 |
| J u s t what is growing in our economy? |
43 |
| Do we necessarily want all that grows? If we use fewer drugs of X rays or spare parts in our bodies, are we a failing econ­omy? We do not bemoan the fact that when our sons and daughters come of age they cease to grow taller. At adulthood, we entirely redefine the con­cept of growth. Can we not define the economy similarly? The ‘unremitting cultivation of goods,’ as George Gilder, author of Wealth and Poverty, describes a capitalist economy, is but mere incessancy. We now require a new definition of growth— |
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| - |
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| The informative economy will not re­place the mass economy; it will absorb and include the mass economy in the course of its evolution. We will need steel, rubber, airplanes, pulp mills, and trucks for centuries. The industrial age was not a failure but an unmitigated success. If we refuse to change and try to extend the industrial age beyond its useful life, we will change success into failure by not recognizing our maturation. |
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| The shift of the mass economy to the |
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| informative economy can be compared |
43 |
| with ‘product life-cycle’ theory. When a |
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| successful product is introduced, de­ |
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| mand for it grows quickly, and emphasis |
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| is placed on the rate of production. As |
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| demand begins to be satisfied, variations |
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| of the new product are introduced. Again, |
43 |
| economic emphasis is on the rate of pro­ |
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| duction to satisfy demand. Eventually, |
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| the market approaches saturation, and |
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| resources that were formerly directed to­ |
43 |
| ward increasing the rate of production |
43 |
| are channeled into improving the quality |
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| of the product—in production, perfor­ |
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| mance, and cost. While this phe­ |
43 |
| nomenon has long been observed in cer |
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| - |
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| y |
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| y |
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| tain product cycles, the theory has not |
43 |
| been applied to the macroeconomy as a |
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| whole. |
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| whole. |
43 |
| In the case of the economy, the under­lying reasons for the shift from mass to information are different from those lead­ing to an improved product. In product life-cycle theory, the shift in emphasis from the rate of production to the quality of production is caused by decline in de­mand. The shift from the mass economy to the informative economy is being caused by a decline in the supply of re­sources rather than a decline in the de­mand for goods. In this respect, the economy, during its present period o |
43 |
| - |
43 |
| The mass economy carried with it a sense of unlimited horizons and re­sources that was confirmed by the falling prices of most raw materials since 1870. That resources in fact are limited is not important, because the economy, if we may ascribe animatedness to it, has acted as though resources were un­limited. Because of this, the 100-year pe­riod between 1870 and 1970 was domi­nated by a high rate of growth and replication. There was no attention given to the maximum carrying capacity of the environment wi |
43 |
| The mass economy carried with it a sense of unlimited horizons and re­sources that was confirmed by the falling prices of most raw materials since 1870. That resources in fact are limited is not important, because the economy, if we may ascribe animatedness to it, has acted as though resources were un­limited. Because of this, the 100-year pe­riod between 1870 and 1970 was domi­nated by a high rate of growth and replication. There was no attention given to the maximum carrying capacity of the environment wi |
43 |
| and can be symbolized on a chart by a J curve, because it starts out as a curving line and eventually becomes closer to a straight line of growth perpendicular to the base of the chart or graph. In nature, when J-curve growth occurs among fauna, such growth is rewarded with a ‘bust,’ because species growth soon out­strips the environment’s food supply. At that point, population growth halts and contracts to a point where the environ­ment can support this new lower level of population. This pattern of boom a |
44 |
| There is another type of adaptation to rapid population growth seen in nature, and this is represented by a sigmoid, or S, curve. In both J and S growth, the population, whether birds, bushes, or bacteria, expands as much as the supply of food or nutrients allows. Since there seem to be no limits at first, growth starts as an exponential curve. But in S-curve growth, the species begins to detect lim­its to expansion. These limits are the ca­pacity of the environment to provide food at the same rate as the r |
44 |
| Using growth curves seen in animal population expansion as an analogy for economic behavior, we can see in the figure that the informative economy is not different from the mass economy, but, rather, that it describes a more mature stage of economic development, a stage that at first will be volatile, turbulent, and chaotic. As I have drawn the chart repre­senting the economy, my guess is that we are on the point marked with an X. We have experienced nine years of slow growth—a tapering off of the rate of e |
44 |
| yVhat becomes obvious when one uses such a chart to depict economic transition is that strategies appropriate during the rapid growth of the mass econ­omy are inappropriate to its mature phase, the informative economy. Those strategies are worth repeating here as a group in order to contrast them with strat­egies appropriate to the informative economy. |
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| A |
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| I s the mass economy moves toward the informative economy, there will ini­tially be disorder, because the activity of all economic components must change behavior, movement, and pattern. Prod­ucts must change. Energy-intensive, marketing, consumption, and consumer habits must also change. Each compo­nent of the mass economy must either adapt or perish, but it will take time to understand what part each plays (or no longer plays) in what will be the new economy. This loosening, or untighten­ing, of the econo |
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| 4 |
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| Ecology is the study of the relationship between organisms and their environ­ments. Since our wealth, economic health, and real growth now depend inti­mately on our understanding of our en­vironment, any business or economist without an ecological sensitivity runs the risk of not adapting. For decades, eco­logical science could be ignored by busi­nesses and economists because the en­vironment was forgiving of demands placed on it. The planet was large enough and the population small enough to allow us to ig |
44 |
| Gently but firmly, the environment is telling us that we are outstripping its ca­pacity to fill our current demands. Ac­cording to Lester Brown, author of Build­ing a Sustainable Society, the world reached a major watershed in 1960 that |
44 |
| but firmly, the environment is telling us that we are outstrippingits capacity to fill our current demands. The world reached a major watershed in 1960 that we have yet to acknowledge. I |
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| we have yet to acknowledge. During that year, the world’s population reached 3 billion, and for the first time ‘the yields of three basic biological systems [forests, seas, and grasslands] expanded less rapidly than popujations.’ Since that time, the margin between total demand and total output has narrowed and even become negative, so that today we are eating into past reserves. Many items, such as fish, wool, and meat, have stead­ily dropped in both per capita and abso­lute production since the early 1970 |
44 |
| we have yet to acknowledge. During that year, the world’s population reached 3 billion, and for the first time ‘the yields of three basic biological systems [forests, seas, and grasslands] expanded less rapidly than popujations.’ Since that time, the margin between total demand and total output has narrowed and even become negative, so that today we are eating into past reserves. Many items, such as fish, wool, and meat, have stead­ily dropped in both per capita and abso­lute production since the early 1970 |
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| The mass economy has met food de­mand through the industrialization of ag­riculture. Large equipment operating on large farms has changed farming from labor-intensive to capital-and energy-in­tensive. The problem with increased U.S. food production has been that intensive methods of cultivation and fertilization are rapidly reducing the amount of topsoil and topsoil fertility. In other words, we have turned our farms into mines, and what we are extracting with our food is long-term fertility or, at the very |
44 |
| - |
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| The industrialization of agriculture was made possible by the low cost of energy. We could afford to use more energy per unit of output, reducing our labor costs during a period when labor was leaving |
44 |
| The industrialization of agriculture was made possible by the low cost of energy. We could afford to use more energy per unit of output, reducing our labor costs during a period when labor was leaving |
44 |
| the farm for higher-paying jobs. It is esti­mated that the United States expends ten calories for every calorie of food taken off the field, while the Chinese spend one. In order to achieve yields at one-tenth the energy cost of ours, China uses more labor. While the United States does not want to go back to a labor-inten­sive agriculture to save energy, U.S. farmers are faced with the prospect of continually higher operating costs and dwindling profits. However, the world is making more people, not more la |
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| H aving more people work the land flies |
44 |
| in the face of conventional wisdom about the benefits of increasing mechaniza­tion, but conforms closely to the idea of an informative economy. For food pro­duction to increase and the land to regain its fertility, there will have to be a shift in the ratio of mass to information. Mass is represented by land and energy; infor­mation by intelligence, technique, and people. Smaller, more intensively worked farms are considered a romantic notion. It was Secretary of Agriculture Earl Butz, under President Nixon |
44 |
| in the face of conventional wisdom about the benefits of increasing mechaniza­tion, but conforms closely to the idea of an informative economy. For food pro­duction to increase and the land to regain its fertility, there will have to be a shift in the ratio of mass to information. Mass is represented by land and energy; infor­mation by intelligence, technique, and people. Smaller, more intensively worked farms are considered a romantic notion. It was Secretary of Agriculture Earl Butz, under President Nixon |
44 |
| in the face of conventional wisdom about the benefits of increasing mechaniza­tion, but conforms closely to the idea of an informative economy. For food pro­duction to increase and the land to regain its fertility, there will have to be a shift in the ratio of mass to information. Mass is represented by land and energy; infor­mation by intelligence, technique, and people. Smaller, more intensively worked farms are considered a romantic notion. It was Secretary of Agriculture Earl Butz, under President Nixon |
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| next five years. |
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| What made American farmers the most productive in the world is now threatening to put them out of business: abundant energy. From a labor-intensive livelihood, farming has become a capital-and energy-intensive industry that re­quires the investment of large amounts of capital and energy into the land and ob­tains high yields in return. But, like big industry, farmers have been fooled. By putting so much capital into energy-in­tensive machinery and technologies, they are being driven into insolvency. In 1982 |
44 |
| - |
44 |
| The shift from a mass to an informative economy reverses the polarities of what is and isn’t economical. It was romantic to think of farming a small amount of land in the past few decades, because the economies of scale prevented a person from making a living unless he were growing specialty crops like wine grapes or tobacco. The $50,000 combine and |
44 |
| The shift from a mass to an informative economy reverses the polarities of what is and isn’t economical. It was romantic to think of farming a small amount of land in the past few decades, because the economies of scale prevented a person from making a living unless he were growing specialty crops like wine grapes or tobacco. The $50,000 combine and |
44 |
| the $40,000 tractor didn’t pay for them­selves on the 100-acre farm. And for many years, small equipment didn’t pay either, as land prices rose and crop prices fell. Equally romantic now may be the large farm, or, at the very least, start­ing a large farm and having it serve its debt or give even a moderate return on equity. But whether a farm is large or small, the means to make it pay for itself are the same. The farm must produce more income relative to expenses. Since |
45 |
| U.S. farms, in general, have pushed yields to the upper limits of the soil’s ca­pacity, the answer must involve lower costs. And the way one lowers the cost of fertilizers, equipment, fuel, pesticides, and herbicides is to use less or to use none at all. So-called biological farming techniques, once considered frivolous or idealistic, were recommended for se­rious consideration by Bob Bergland, Secretary of Agriculture during the Car­ter administration. Bergland said that organic farming could rebuild soil |
45 |
| As long as farmers could replace labor with machinery and fertility with fertil­izers, the green revolution could proceed apace. Farming could make the huge productivity gains it has during the past fifty years. With the peaking of the mass economy, much of what the farmer learned is no longer useful in adapting to a time of rising resource prices. The knowledge that is required now is not how to wring more out of the soil but how to obtain suitable yields with less. If you are using pesticides, you want to |
45 |
| In countries where geography or de­mographics prohibit large holdings, there is already a demand for such tech­nology. In the United States, the need for downsized machinery will be slow in building, since land ownership patterns can only change gradually over decades. Nevertheless, American companies are feeling the impact of this changing de­mand, particularly in their export sales. While International Harvester staggers toward a possible bankruptcy, Kubota has aggressively pursued the small and intermedi |
45 |
| The conclusion that small farms work better than large farms has recently been confirmed by the Department of Agri­culture. In a 1981 study, it found that in the Corn Belt the most efficient farms |
45 |
| ha i more people work the land flies in the face of conventional wisdom about the benefits of increasing mechanization, |
45 |
| but conforms closely totheideaofan |
45 |
| informative economy. |
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| were those of 640 acres, but that over 90 percent efficiency could be attained by farms of 300 acres. On wheat farms, the most efficient were found to be ones with 1,476 acres, but, again, 90 percent effi­ciency could be accomplished on 232 |
45 |
| - |
45 |
| acre farms. By contrast, in some develop­ing countries, the most efficient farms have between 2 and 5 acres. In both cases, the most efficient farm size is one that can be worked by a family that owns its land, or at least receives the fru its of its work and production. Whereas the U.S. farmer can afford the machinery to work 640 acres, the farmer in India must culti­vate largely by hand. Each case reflects a different ratio of mass to information, but a proper one for the land and econ­omy in question. |
45 |
| here is also a social ecology to adhere to in an informative economy. This is the way people relate to their greater en­vironment, what philosopher James Ogilvy refers to as our ‘neo-nature,’ the human-made environment around us comprised of cities, institutions, employ­ |
45 |
| here is also a social ecology to adhere to in an informative economy. This is the way people relate to their greater en­vironment, what philosopher James Ogilvy refers to as our ‘neo-nature,’ the human-made environment around us comprised of cities, institutions, employ­ |
45 |
| T |
45 |
| X |
45 |
| ers, neighborhoods, and laws. Our rela­tionship to that environment must also change. For example, as the economy begins to contract, there already has been a marked change in the rela­tionship between unions and business. During the expansionary stages of the mass economy, growth required a ‘who gets what?’ bargaining strategy. Unions and big business were fighting over the spoils by using each other’s withdrawal from participation—strikes or lockouts— as bargaining chips. Now that real con­traction has se |
45 |
| - |
45 |
| For example, Uniroyal has created a councif composed of workers and man­agement that will engage in an ongoing discussion of the company’s finances, marketing, and corporate planning. Unions also have been granted the right |
45 |
| For example, Uniroyal has created a councif composed of workers and man­agement that will engage in an ongoing discussion of the company’s finances, marketing, and corporate planning. Unions also have been granted the right |
45 |
| to make presentations to Uniroyal’s board of directors, in return for which they gave up cost-of-living allowances for three years, which would have increased salaries by $25 million. |
45 |
| Timken, the ball-bearing manufac­turer, has agreed not to relocate to a new plant in the Sun Belt, in exchange for an eleven-year-no-strike clause in the new union contract. Colt Industries, McLouth Steel, Pan American Airways, Continen­tal Airlines, United Airlines, and Western Airlines have agreed to open their books to unions in return for pay freezes or cuts. |
45 |
| To cope with rapid economic change and the need for workers and manage­ment alike to keep abreast of new devel­opments, Japanese management ro­tates employees through different jobs, avoiding the overspecialization so com­mon to U.S. business. The advantages of rotating personnel through a corporation are threefold: first, a worker does not solely identify with one part of the com­pany but sees himself or herself as part of an integrated whole; second, cross­fertilization of staff develops better chan­nels |
45 |
| For an informative economy to suc­ceed, we must inform each other about what we do and how we work. In a boom­ing and expansive economy, there may be complex interrelationships between individuals as entities in an economy, but there is no real dependence because economic growth provides an abun­dance of new wealth. When an economy stabilizes or contracts, our individual condition and standard of living come to rely much more heavily on the actions and decisions of others. This is the kind of behavior seen |
45 |
| Writer Paul Hawken lives in New York City. This article is from Sustainable Commu­nities, published by Sierra Club Books, 730 Polk Street, San Francisco, CA 94109. Copyright 1986 by Sim Van der Ryn and Peter Caltho rpe. Reprinted with permission. Artist Bruce McGillivray lives in Portland. |
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| SA |
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| Are You Able to Be Your Own Lawyer and Succeed? |
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| in the legal system takes years of training. That’s our department. We represent your concerns professionally while giving you the continual per­sonal attention you need to be informed. |
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| N ICARAGUA |
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| The Seattle Connection |
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| The Seattle Connection |
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| By Andrew Himes |
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| By Andrew Himes |
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| Ph oto s by Jo rge Garcia |
47 |
| I n 1968, Antonio Dajer was a small boy in the land of no |
47 |
| hope, a Nicaragua of sorrow, disease, and endless hunger. Dr. Dajer is now a family practice doctor at the University of Washington Medical Center. “I was born in New York,” he says. “I did most of my growing up there, but both my parents were Nicaraguan. We had strong family ties there, so we went back for long visits several times. |
47 |
| “What I rerpember most was the pov­erty. Beggars would come to the door and my mother would fix them a plate of food. You’d go to the countryside and there were these little hovels that people lived in and children with bloated bellies from starvation. I thought, this is a country without hope, people will always be poor. The place was so depressing that at the age of ten I was plotting my escape. I was going to run away back to New York, I was going to go on up the Pan-American Highway and get back to the |
47 |
| “That’s one thing they don’t really grasp, all these people who are going to Nicaragua now. The contrast. The differ­ence. Before 1979 nobody ever went to Nicaragua. You would see only poverty, depression, misery. There was no reason to go. All the Somocistas knew that noth­ing would ever change, and even the anti-Somocistas knew that nothing would change, ever.” |
47 |
| oday, however, some of the most re­markable changes have taken place in the health care system. Within a few short years Nicaragua went from being one of Latin America's “health basket­cases,” as one observer put it, to having the U.N. World Health Organization name Nicaragua the Third World’s “model country” in health care. Many North American health professionals are taking a deep interest in Nicaraguan medical affairs. Seattle in particular has provided substantial medical assistance to the new Nicaragua |
47 |
| 1/ |
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| “The poorest country in Central Amer­ica used to be the sickest,” reports Dr. |
47 |
| Steve Tarnoff, a physician at Group Health’s Rainier Medical Center who trav­elled in Nicaragua in 1984. “That has changed and part of the success of this emerging health-care system is non­medical; it’s an obvious change of mor­ale. The government is trying to make the people healthier and they know it. I think pride has a lot to do with the incredible cooperation at the most grass-roots level. In Nicaragua you see tremendous pov­erty, but you don’t see squalor.” |
47 |
| Dr. Antonio Dajer returned two years ago to a Nicaragua which was no longer a country he’d known. “It was like they had unleashed this fresh spring which was being held back by Somoza, and some very natural things were able to take place. People were taking care of themselves, and cleaning things up and getting shots for kids.” |
47 |
| Health conditions in Nicaragua und^r |
47 |
| the Somoza regime were abominable by any standard, even worse than in most of |
47 |
| the Somoza regime were abominable by any standard, even worse than in most of |
47 |
| its Central American neighbors, accord­ing to a report in the New England Journal of Medicine. Thirty-five percent of the ur­ban population and 95 percent of the rural population lacked access to potable water. The Sandinista government esti­mates that 90 percent of medical ser­vices were directed to 10 percent of the population. More than half the doctors and medical beds were located in the capital city. |
47 |
| Malaria, tuberculosis, and parasitism were endemic in much of Nicaragua. One-third of the people contracted ma­laria at least once in their lives. Measles was a great killer of children. In mal­nourished children, measles may be ac­companied by an overwhelming and often fatal bacterial pneumonia, usually of staphylococcal origin, and recent stud­ies indicate that up to two-thirds of chil |
47 |
| Malaria, tuberculosis, and parasitism were endemic in much of Nicaragua. One-third of the people contracted ma­laria at least once in their lives. Measles was a great killer of children. In mal­nourished children, measles may be ac­companied by an overwhelming and often fatal bacterial pneumonia, usually of staphylococcal origin, and recent stud­ies indicate that up to two-thirds of chil |
47 |
| - |
47 |
| tancy at the time of the revolution was only 53 years. Infant mortality was esti­mated at between 120 and 130 per thou­sand (compared, for example, with Pan­ama’s purported rate of 30 per thousand). |
47 |
| Dr. Jorge Garcia, a volunteer for two months in 1983 at a war zone health clinic in northern Nicaragua, now works as a family physician at a clinic for mi­grant workers north of Seattle. He just completed specialty training at Group Health Cooperative in Seattle, and was a founder of Partners for Health (PFH), an alliance of Group Health consumers and employees which has established a sis­ter clinic relationship with Acahualinca, a clinic serving 7,000 residents in one of Managua’s poorest communities. PFH |
47 |
| “Nicaragua had some big problems to tackle," says Dr. Garcia. “First they set out to deal with hunger and malnutrition, to distribute food, especially to children and nursing and pregnant women. They trained almost 30,000 public health work­ers, they call them brigadistas, that’s al­most 10 percent of the population in­volved in some form of health care. They set out to immunize people, especially children, thousands of whom died every year from easily preventable diseases like polio, bacterial diarrheas, t |
47 |
| Health policy has focused on primary care, and has relied on the urban and rural poor themselves. About half of the health centers and posts built since the revolution were constructed by local comm unity groups. Eleven national health campaigns for sanitation, immu­nization, rabies control, first-aid training, and malaria control have been held. Polio has been eliminated, measles and rabies have nearly disappeared, and other vac-cine-preventable infections have been greatly reduced. Advances like these in |
47 |
| “That’s why I get excited about Nic­ |
47 |
| aragua,” says Dr. Dajer. “I talk to friends, |
47 |
| docs and medical students who go to |
47 |
| other Latin American countries where life |
47 |
| is generally short, nasty, and brutish. |
47 |
| They go to Guatemala, Honduras, Co­ |
47 |
| lombia, Brazil; they come back and say: I |
47 |
| pushed pills, I have vitamins, but as soon |
47 |
| T HE POORE ST COUNTRY IN C ENTRAL A MERICA |
47 |
| USED TO BE THE SICK EST. TH AT HAS CHAN GED |
47 |
| AND PA RT OF TH E SUCCESS OF THIS EM ERG ING |
47 |
| HE ALTH -CA RE SYSTEM IS NON -ME DICA L; IT’S AN |
47 |
| OBVIOUS CHA NGE OF MOR ALE. T HE GO VERN MEN T |
47 |
| IS TRYIN G TO MAKE THE PEOP LE HEAL THIE R AND |
47 |
| TH EY KNOW IT .” |
47 |
| as we leave it’s the same old crap, things will never change. But in Nicaragua there’s a chance to be a part of something that might actually change things.” |
47 |
| A d i the accomplishments of the revolu­ |
47 |
| tion, though, seem easy and simple com­pared to the tasks that remain, in the face of Nicaragua’s poverty and the ravages of the Contra war. |
47 |
| “One thing I was struck by,” says Dr. Dajer, “was how difficult it is to create a health system when you have nothing. Coming from the U.S. Ijust assumed that if you organize something, and if the right people are making the decisions, then you’ll have adequate health care. No problem, you just redistribute the re­sources rationally and adequately, no sweat. Well, that’s not true. You do need resources. You do need training and management skills, you need supplies |
47 |
| .Adtacks on health facilities and per­Greenbaum. “They recycle supplies as much as possible. They take used rubber sonnel have been a major focus of Contra surgical gloves and re-sterilize them time activity. In the first four years of the Contra after time until they just fall apart. We war, 63 health units have been put out of collect supplies and used equipment for service because of Contra attacks, in­them, from hospitals, doctor’s offices, in­cluding one hospital, three health cen­dividuals here in the |
48 |
| “They’re short of everything,” says |
48 |
| U.S. trade embargo which began in 1985 Garcia. “Two were members of the ma­has had a dramatic impact, for until that laria control project. Another was a 56time Nicaragua bought and sold more year-old paramedic. The Contras particu­ |
48 |
| - |
48 |
| EALTH POLICY HAS FOCUSED ON PRIMARY |
48 |
| CARE, AND HAS RELIED ON THE URBAN AND |
48 |
| RURAL POOR THEMSELVES. ABOUT HALF OF THE |
48 |
| HEALTH CENTERS AND POSTS BUILT SINCE THE |
48 |
| REVOLUTION WERE CONSTRUCTED BY LOCAL |
48 |
| COMMUNITY GROUPS. |
48 |
| goods here than with any other nation. larly targeted health care workers and This has been coupled with support to clinics. I could not visit certain commu­the ex-Somocista Contra forces, which nities because the trails were too dan­have forced the diversion of most of Nic­gerous. I was additionally at risk for being aragua’s meager resources to the de­a foreigner. Just before I left, a platoon of fense effort. “Actually, there’s been very Contras gang-raped and severely beat little improvement in health c |
48 |
| goods here than with any other nation. larly targeted health care workers and This has been coupled with support to clinics. I could not visit certain commu­the ex-Somocista Contra forces, which nities because the trails were too dan­have forced the diversion of most of Nic­gerous. I was additionally at risk for being aragua’s meager resources to the de­a foreigner. Just before I left, a platoon of fense effort. “Actually, there’s been very Contras gang-raped and severely beat little improvement in health c |
48 |
| rorizing the population. system based on preventive medicine is |
48 |
| “I remember treating one eight-year-especially appropriate. It requires a low old girl who was wounded in a mortar level of technology and a small amount of attack on her house,” says Dr. Garcia. money. But medicine by definition re­“She had second-and third-degree quires technology if it’s going to be diag­burns on her back, and her mama held nostic and curative, and that’s the es­her awkwardly up on her shoulder so her sence of U.S. medicine., highly back wouldn't be hurt. Every day she individualized, hi |
48 |
| These are people who yesterday had no |
48 |
| These are people who yesterday had no |
48 |
| “One morning a pickup truck appeared |
48 |
| health care, and now they see it as their |
48 |
| at the clinic. Two boys lay in the back |
48 |
| right. The same poor peasant who never |
48 |
| covered with blood. The older one was |
48 |
| saw a doctor before 1979 is now in your |
48 |
| unresponsive and pale. We placed him |
48 |
| office saying, ‘What do you mean you |
48 |
| on a stretcher and ran into the clinic. His |
48 |
| don’t have time to see me today? Screw |
48 |
| pulse was rapid and weak. He took shal­ |
48 |
| yo u !’ ” |
48 |
| low breaths. We put intravenous lines in |
48 |
| What is needed in Nicaragua is a medi­ |
48 |
| both arms, poured in two liters of saline, |
48 |
| cal system adapted to the particular |
48 |
| and elevated his legs. Still no blood pres­ |
48 |
| needs of the vast majority of the Nic­ |
48 |
| sure, and he stopped breathing. I began |
48 |
| araguan people. The U.S. medical sys­ |
48 |
| mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. He lost his |
48 |
| tem, highly technological and indi­ |
48 |
| pulse. We began chest compressions, |
48 |
| vidualist as it is and geardd to the prof­ |
48 |
| then he vomited and was dead. Just 16 |
48 |
| itability of the major insurance |
48 |
| years old. His nine-year-old cousin had a |
48 |
| companies and health care provider or­ |
48 |
| smaller wound in the leg, and a bullet in |
48 |
| ganizations, cannot be the model for |
48 |
| his shoulder. He grimaced with every |
48 |
| Nicaragua. |
48 |
| movement as we removed the burnt flesh |
48 |
| movement as we removed the burnt flesh |
48 |
| “The biggest job of all is to change |
48 |
| and coagulating blood, and then treated |
48 |
| people’s ideas,” says Dr. Dajer, “to con­ |
48 |
| the wound. But he never cried out or |
48 |
| vince people that the U.S. model isn’t the |
48 |
| made a sound. I don’t know whether he |
48 |
| right one and neither is the Cuban model, |
48 |
| kept his leg. |
48 |
| which ironically has much in common |
48 |
| HEY ’RE SHORT OF EVERYTHING . T HEY RECYCLE SUPPLIES AS MUCH AS POSSIBLE. THEY |
48 |
| TAKE USED RUBBER SURGICAL GLOVES AND RE ­ |
48 |
| STERILIZE THEM TIME AFTER TIME UNTIL THEY |
48 |
| JUST FALL APART.” |
48 |
| “Later, a truck arrived with the bodies of with U.S. health care. When you make a the three who had died in the attack—the mass public health care system from grandfather, Pedro Villareine; his son scratch you lose quality. You’re not going Ramon, and his eight-year-old grand­to have superspecialists in their little daughter. They had been shot in many cubicles in Managua dispensing high places and were drenched in blood. The quality medicine, and for rich people and small girl lay on a stretcher, her skull |
48 |
| “This family of farmers lived in a small just because their parents have enough village near Condega. Shortly after dawn money to send them to an expensive |
48 |
| school. Many of them now come from |
48 |
| oeasant and working class backgrounds, |
48 |
| oeasant and working class backgrounds, |
48 |
| and equipment, an intelligent system of referrals, a setup for primary and second­ary and tertiary care.” |
48 |
| Alan Greenbaum is a trauma unit nurse at Harborview Hospital in Seattle who spent two months in early 1986 working at La Trinidad Hospital, about 130 kilometers north of Managua. Greenbaum is an organizer for the Com­mittee for Health Rights in Central Amer­ica (CHRICA), a group which is working with Partners for Health to raise money for a new truck and clinic building for Hospital Fernando Velez Paiz in Man­agua and for the Acahualinca Clinic. |
48 |
| fruit on the streets of Managua, for exam­ple, instead of farming. Everything is in short supply.” |
48 |
| Dr. Jorge Garcia experienced similar problems. He worked for three weeks in Condega, a small town in the north­western mountains only about 25 kilo­meters from the Honduran border. “We had a crippling scarcity of simple im­ported materials, such as paper. We took empty sacks of Canadian flour, cleaned and cut them to wrap up surgical gloves for re-sterilization. I wrote prescriptions on pieces of newspaper, between the lines. We had no penicillin, or medicine for parasites. We dispensed only ten as­pirin at |
48 |
| they were ambushed by a platoon of Con­tras. The family had two guns, relics of their war against Somoza. After their ammunition ran out the Contras came, found seven people still alive, and marched them to Honduras. Some of the family had hidden and survived. |
48 |
| - |
48 |
| “The survivors of the war are victims also. There was a woman whose family had all been killed, she was the only one left. She wandered in a daze for months, not understanding what happened. In Nicaragua people get old at a very early age. The sad thing is, war has now re­placed diarrhea, malaria, and other in­fectious diseases as the number one cause of death.” |
48 |
| W n e thing that struck me was how much they’re torn between wanting a |
48 |
| U.S. style medical system and one that makes sense for Nicaragua,” says Dr. Da­jer. “They even believe a U.S. doc is better than a Nicaraguan doc, just because of where he’s from. Given the limited re­sources of a poor country, a health care |
48 |
| U.S. style medical system and one that makes sense for Nicaragua,” says Dr. Da­jer. “They even believe a U.S. doc is better than a Nicaraguan doc, just because of where he’s from. Given the limited re­sources of a poor country, a health care |
48 |
| and they are chosen for their enthusiasm for serving people and taking part in the mass public health campaigns. Medical students are taught to think of them­selves as public health workers. During the summers they work in hospitals and clinics and rural health posts, making beds, emptying bedpans, sweeping floors. |
48 |
| Nicaragua has made an impressive beginning in breaking the hard ice of ex­clusivism and elitism in which the Nic­araguan medical system had been frozen for so many years. Now the chal­lenge for the revolution is to continue building on this foundation in the face of the ongoing, U.S.-armed and funded op­position. Nicaragua must draw from the knowledge and skills provided by outside medical personnel while discovering and shaping the system most appropriate to its own needs and economic limitations. One thin |
48 |
| Andrew Hines is a writer living in Seattle. |
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| Clinton St. Quarterly & |
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| Clinton St. Quarterly & |
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| GARRETT < COLLECTION |
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| GARRETT < COLLECTION |
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| INTERNATIONALPUZZLES |
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| INTERNATIONALPUZZLES |
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| ■ |
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| ■ |
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| ■ ■■1 |
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| ■HI |
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| 1. GEOMETRY IN STAINLESS The origin of this type of puzzle 6. PYRAMID. Use these two wooden pieces to form a was first proposed in the tenth century. This stainless pyramid. The pyramid is made of exotic hardwood. puzzle challenges you and others to rearrange all the Innocently deceptive.‘ This stylization is of American pieces into the simple elegance of six geometric origin. $10.95 |
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| shapes. These shapes are a square, rectangle, 7. MAGIC SQUARE. On this plexiglass table every row, rhomboid, Greek cross, right-angled triangle and a column and diagonal must add up to fifteen. trapezium. Use your ingenuity with this historically known Mathematicians enjoy the magic square. In Ancient puzzle. $19.95 Egypt, priests used the square to predict the future. |
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| 2 HEARTBREAKER Thistype of puzzle was popular decades $2495 ago among the Pennsylvania Dutch. It is made out of 8. PICKING CHERRIES Disengage the cord and balls from steel and the object isto remove the heart. The display the leather rectangle. Picking cherries isa perfect mind stand comes with it. $19.95 teaser. Originating in Europe, this type of puzzle has |
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| 3. CHECKS ON LEATHER Use your skill in the games of chess been played for centuries 11.95 or checkers on this fine leather piece. Silk-screened in 9. THE HATCHING EGG. Break apart this handmade terra the traditional chess board pattern. Luxurious for the cotta egg and see how many bird varieties can be home and perfect for travel. Checkmate on this made. Letyourimagination fly andbe inventive. $19.95 makeover of a classic! 14 inches square— playing |
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| 10.CHANGE OF HEART. As in most matters of the heart, this |
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| 10.CHANGE OF HEART. As in most matters of the heart, this |
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| pieces not included. Chess |
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| board—$40.00 |
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| game is purely abstract. It could be the beginning of |
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| 4. |
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| 4. |
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| 4. |
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| BALL PUZZLE Transfer the ball from one hanging loop of rendering new geometric possibilities This handmade cord to the other. Your wits will be tested. Centuries ago terra cotta heart can be formed into fanciful shapes the ball puzzle was used in magic rites by African tribes and curves. Shown are examples of the puzzle Our version is solid brass $19.95 reassembled. $19.95 |
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| 5. |
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| 5. |
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| Tangram. Scholars believe tangrams originated in 11. TANGRAM Sailing / Dancing. This Ancient Chinese puzzle China. The earliest known reference was published in a is made out of myrtlewood, grown in Oregon. It is Chinese book in 1803. Many versions have been surprising the variety of boats and dancers that can be invented and have proven to be popular through achieved using all the pieces Challenge yourself to history. Use all five pieces to make a five-inch square. form the examples shown or invent new one |
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| giftsfor those with curious minds |
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| giftsfor those with curious minds |
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| ORDER FORM |
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| ITEM# ITEM NAME PRICE NO. ORDERED TOTAL PRICE TO: Name: |
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| Address: |
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| Address: |
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| C ity:S ta te :Z ip : |
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| FROM: Name: |
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| FROM: Name: |
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| Address: |
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| SEND ORDER FORM & PAYMENT TO: Clinton Street Quarterly |
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| Deadline for Christmas orders December 15,1986 |
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| Box 3588, Portland, OR 97208 |
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| PRICES INCLUDE UPSSHIPPING |
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| TOWN/NORTH BEACH • BASQUE CUISINE • ROOMS FROM $30 • 1208 STOCKTON ST. • SAN FRANCISCO, |
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| CALIFORNIA 94133 • (415) 989-3960 • |
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| OBRERO |
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| OBRERO |
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| HOTEL & RESTAURANT IN THE BASQUE TRADITION |
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| .. .every time you wear your new Breathe! T-shirt. Beautiful’ white calligraphy on fresh, long-wearing 50% poly/50% cotton.blend, $12.00 postpaid. Crew neck: green, hot pink, purple, turquoise. S, M, L, XL. Please specify two color choices. |
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| Handy Breathe! reminder stickers (l'4”x 1’4"), 7 for $1.25 postpaid, and friendly over­sized postcards (5”x8"), 12 for $9.00 postpaid, have cobalt calligraphy on glossy white stock. |
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| Allow 4to6 weeksfordelivery. Sendcheckor |
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| money order to: |
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| Breathe! T-shirt |
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| Breathe! T-shirt |
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| 600 S.W. 10th, Suite 542 Portland, OR 97205 |
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| GSSNESZS SQUEEZED JUICES |
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| APPLE & APPLE BLENDS A35MLABLE TN PORTLAND AT THESE |
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| NUT NECTAR SMOOTHIE |
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| QUALITY FOOD STORES |
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| QUALITY FOOD STORES |
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| CARROT & CARROT BLENDS HONEY LEMONADE ORANGE |
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| Inner City Hot Springs |
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| Inner City Hot Springs |
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| Natures Corbett & Fre mont Food Front Cooperative Montgomery Market Peoples Coop |
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| Ma $ |
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| Ma $ |
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| * |
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| * |
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| C |
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| R |
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| CUSTOM FRAMING GALLERY |
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| QUALITY CRAFTSMANSHIP — SERVICE — VALUE |
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| X XX |
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| X XX |
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| RESTORATION & SPECIALTY WORK WELCOME |
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| SE 60th & DIVISION 771-3858 |
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| ART Andy’s Pub 15 Pastaworks 16 |
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| Reju |
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| vena |
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| tion |
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| Hous |
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| e Pa |
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| rts 4 |
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| 0 |
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| CBread and Ink Cafe 15 Pau! BeOn First 13 Image Gallery 14 afe des Amis 32 People 's 24 |
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| onte |
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| mpora |
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| ry C |
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| rafts |
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| 14 |
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| rgen |
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| 33 |
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| Seco |
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| nds |
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| C |
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| Yestershades 16 |
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| Yestershades 16 |
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| M.A.D. Photography 49 mico 4 Popper's Supply 27 |
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| C |
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| aro A |
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| C |
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| C |
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| c N. W. Artists Workshop 2 46 Porretta's Pizza 24 FINANCIAL & |
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| 3 |
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| Cass |
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| idy’s |
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| LE |
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| GA |
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| L |
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| <3. O.S.A.C. 14 East Ave. Tavern 24 Portland Bagel Bakery 40 ISTANCE u |
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| ASS |
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| M |
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| l |
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| _C 00 3 Real MEscape From NY Pizza 49 Ross Island GBridgetown Realty 40 u ART Foothill Broiler 32 Sheridan Fruit 31 Dixon, Nicholls & Friedman 46 > in oO en Loaf Bakery 16 Starflower 26 |
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| s |
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| o |
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| othe |
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| r Goo |
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| se 2 |
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| roce |
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| ry 27 |
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| UJ |
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| < |
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| U |
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| CO |
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| Gold |
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| o |
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| Ct wo |
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| UJ Cc OFFICE SUPPLIES PER |
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| SO |
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| NA |
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| L T |
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| RE |
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| ATS |
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| The Good Earth 13 |
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| The Good Earth 13 |
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| 0 33 Artistic Airbrush 45 GETAWAYS Christine Payne-Towler 27 |
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| 2 o Hamburger Patti’s 23 g House (OB) 9 |
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| O |
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| OJ |
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| Th |
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| e Bo |
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| ardin |
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| C Art Media 13 Dermigraphics 18 F EHarriet’s Cafe Breitenbush (OC) 13 & Lotions 33 |
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| 0 |
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| U |
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| 3 |
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| a |
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| 3 |
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| Esce |
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| ntial |
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| Oils |
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| uo Kinko 8 |
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| Hawthorne St. Gilbert House (OB) 9 |
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| 2 |
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| Cafe |
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| 16 |
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| UJ aMarvella’s Frames, Gallery 55 Family Hot Tub 16 |
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| O |
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| > oo Hot Lips Pizza 46 (SF) 55 |
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| Obr |
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| ero H |
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| otel |
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| tl oP Old Town Copyworks 13 For Heads Onl |
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| y 24 |
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| UJ E Hunan 41 |
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| Paper Tree 23 GIFTS/FLOWERS Gary Luckey |
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| Hair |
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| Desig |
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| n 39 |
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| 2 Indigine 24 |
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| F |
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| —2? o Paper Parlour 14 Chrystal's Deja Vu 18 Hair Zoo |
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| 8 |
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| D Key Largo 4 |
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| D Key Largo 4 |
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| Ellen's Flower Cart 33 Inner City Hot |
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| Sprin |
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| gs 23 |
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| 0 BOOKS La Patisserie 38 |
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| 5 Escential Oils 33 |
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| RE |
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| CO |
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| RDS |
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| u Ash Creek Press 14 Martinotti's 40 |
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| u Ash Creek Press 14 Martinotti's 40 |
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| Endgames 51 |
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| 3 Great NW Bookstore 31 Michael’s Italian Sausage 39 Artichoke Music 2 |
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| Habromania 41 |
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| Habromania 41 |
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| Q• Hawthorne Blvd. Books 38 My Father’s Place 16 Audio Alternative 26 |
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| International Puzzles 54 |
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| International Puzzles 54 |
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| Holland’s Books 31 Old Wives’ Tales 23 Bass Basses 16 |
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| □ Laughing Horse Books 33 O’Connor's 41 Beat of Soweto 56 |
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| hlXS |
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| lAI |
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| La |
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| Palo |
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| ma 3 |
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| 8 |
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| Lazar’s Bazar 51 |
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| Lazar’s Bazar 51 |
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| Looking Glass Bookstore 49 Papa Hadyn 46 Crocodile Records 16 Nor’western Bookshop 31 Pau! Bergen 33 Northwest ArtMusic Millenium 33 Northwest Futon 14 |
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| ists W |
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| ork |
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| shop |
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| 2 |
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| Paper Moon 24 Pharmacy Fountain 32 Park Ave Records 41 Powell’s Books 29 Pizza the Pie 29 Portland Opera 2 |
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| Ol |
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| d Ho |
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| mest |
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| ead 1 |
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| 5 |
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| Rainy Day Flowers 27 |
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| A |
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| D |
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| The Progressive 50 Porretta Pizza 24 Roadahh |
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| X 46 |
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| Real Mother Goose 2 |
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| Real Mother Goose 2 |
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| Univ, of Calif. Press 41 Portland Bagel Bakery 40 The Ooze 33 |
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| INDEX |
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| Sunbow 15 |
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| Sunbow 15 |
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| Women’s Place Books 40 Riverway Inn 49 Turtable Mar |
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| y’s 9 |
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| Yestershades 16 |
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| Yestershades 16 |
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| Yestershades 16 |
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| Satyricon 31 |
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| APPAREL CAR & SCHOOLS/ |
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| Subway 23 HEALTH |
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| Alan Costley 40 |
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| BICYCLE Sweet Basil 24 Clarice Johnson, DMD 9 |
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| BICYCLE Sweet Basil 24 Clarice Johnson, DMD 9 |
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| CA |
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| RE |
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| CO |
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| NF |
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| ERE |
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| NC |
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| ES |
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| Avalon 41 |
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| Cielo SpTabor Hill Cafe 16 Cielo 29 |
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| Cielo SpTabor Hill Cafe 16 Cielo 29 |
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| ort 3 |
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| 3 |
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| Hum |
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| an R |
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| elatio |
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| ns In |
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| stitut |
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| e 51 |
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| Big Bang 46 |
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| Oregon School of |
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| City BiThe Zoo (E) 46 Portland Naturopathic Clinic 9 |
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| kes 1 |
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| 5 |
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| Blue Gardenia 46 |
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| Hawthorne Auto Clinic 16 Arts & Crafts 14 |
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| Breathe! T-Shirts 55 FOOD/TAKE-OUT |
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| Mic |
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| hael |
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| Sears |
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| Chi |
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| ropra |
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| ctor |
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| 33 |
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| NW Bicycles 32 D. 23 Women with a Heart 14 |
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| Dr. D |
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| anie |
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| l Sis |
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| co N. |
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| Clothes Encounter 18 Coffee Merchant 24 |
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| /VIDEO/ Diane Wilson Yoga 49 SPECIAL PROJECTS Ekankar 39 |
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| F |
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| ashio |
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| n Min |
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| istry |
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| F |
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| ILM |
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| C |
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| olum |
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| bia B |
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| rewe |
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| ry 1 |
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| 3 |
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| Gazelle 4 Food Front 32 HOUSE/GARDEN |
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| Gazelle 4 Food Front 32 HOUSE/GARDEN |
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| T |
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| HEA |
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| TE |
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| R |
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| Metro Crisis |
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| Grin & Wear It 24 Clinton St. Theatre 51 Genesis Juices (E) 55 Bridgetown Realty 40 |
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| NW ANSIR 55 |
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| Keep 'Em Flying 33 9 Golden Loaf Bakery 16 Chrystals Deja Vu 18 La Paloma 38 PCVA 24 Krom’s Wines 27 Cotton Cloud Futon 23 Mr. Formal 45 Martinotti’s 40 Country Home Antiques 9 Oregon Beach |
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| L |
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| Aube |
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| rge 2 |
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| (OB |
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| ) |
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| FOOD/ |
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| FOOD/ |
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| Oregon Graphic Designwear 4 Murphy’s Seafood 32 Fiestaware 38 Eugene (E) Second Generation 15 RESTAURANTS Nancy’s Yogurt 26 Haggle Shop 15 scades (OC)Vintage Venture 23 Albert's Champagne Bistro 8 Nature's 27 NW Futon 15 |
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| Ore |
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| gon |
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| Ca |
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| San Francisco (SF) |
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| What's Upstairs 32 Acapulco Gold 32 The Open Door 49 Real Mother Goose 2 |
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| Clinton St. Quarterly 55 |
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| With a subscription to 2 years of the 100% rec ycla ble |
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| M |
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| THEINDESTRUCTIBLEBEATOFSOWETO |
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| THE INDESTRUCTIBLE BEAT OF SOWETO |
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| THE INDESTRUCTIBLE BEAT OF SOWETO THEINDESTRUCTIBLEBEATOF SOWETO |
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| "My favorite album of 1986 so fa r... over that ebulliently indigenous groove, the voices reached for and attained some sort of interna­tional identification and suddenly I realized that a rock n roll equiva­lent[andindustry) ofunimaginable vitality, complexity, andhigh spirits was somehow thriving in apartheid's face." |
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| Robert Cristgau Village Voice |
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| Sept. 23,1986. |
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| Be the 1st on your block to get a 2-year subscription plus the sounds that are shaking the continent! |
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